The Need for Touch

A human need, no matter what our age

At the age of 72, ( I keep talking and writing about that number to help it sink in), I realize more than ever how important touch can be.

I live alone and am grateful for all that this brings. But I do find that I miss human touch. I don’t mean sexual, necessarily, although if that were to present itself in a way that felt safe and ok, I would be open to it (even though that may shock younger readers to know this. We are old, not dead!).

What I really miss is the gentle touch, a hand on my shoulder, a soft physical acknowledgment of our togetherness in this moment. The sensuality of feeling something alive and soft touching you, human or otherwise, is such a gift.

I love to touch. I will put a hand on someone’s shoulder when saying goodbye, give hugs often when they are welcomed, touch someone’s hand if they start talking about things that are vulnerable or painful, to let them know in a more visceral way that I am there and hearing them.

I have lived with cats for many years of my life. I have loved their purring and snuggling up against me. Sleeping with a furry buddy at night is a pleasure that is beyond description, to reach out and feel that presence beside me, hear a purr in response to my touch, or a nuzzle in the morning. This is such a wonderful way to start and end a day.

I have known the pleasure of human physical touch, both in romantic relationships and friendships, and am grateful.

But these days, unless I intentionally create opportunities for touch, it is not so frequent. I miss it.

I am a woman of solitude and enjoy a significant amount of alone time. It is where I renew myself, where I replenish myself after I have ‘peopled” too much. So, it’s not a lot of contact that I crave, but it is a meaningful, present-filled contact that I miss, a way of being together that words alone cannot fill.

In my career as a social worker, and especially in my last position in a nursing facility, there were times that words were no longer available for some of the patients. So, I touched gently, where I could and when it felt like it would be welcomed or accepted. I like to think that my touch reached people in a place where my words could not.

I stop and lean against the redwood trees when I go for walks in the park. I feel both of our roots in the ground as we inhabit this space and moment together. The feelings that flood through me can bring me to tears and I’m grateful to let them flow.

I have, since I retired, enjoyed doing more of the things that I love. Writing is one of my passions, as are painting and reading. But these are all solitary activities. I also volunteered at the local zoo, as part of the behavior observation team, with elephants. I felt such a deep connection with these majestic creatures, but again, for the zoo’s very appropriate safety reasons, I wasn’t able to touch them much.

So, I need to be more intentional these days on getting the touch that I crave.

Today I reached out to another possible volunteer option, at a local wildlife rescue place, where some of the positions seem to allow handling or helping with animals in the hospital. I hope to be able to do that. I think that the healing will go both ways.

We are human and much of what we need does not really change over the years. With aging and wisdom comes the realization that we must acknowledge those needs, feel them, and then provide the self-love and care to get what we need.

It’s a gift to be human, to crave touch, to connect, to embrace all that being human involves. Let’s give that to each other and to ourselves while we still can.

Random Gifts

You never know when something magical will appear

In these challenging times in our country and in the world, I find that I treasure unexpected moments of grace and joy.

I realize that I need to slow down to be present for these moments and to appreciate them. I need to stop focusing on all the chaos and pay attention to the beauty all around.

I’ve had a few of these special moments recently that I am grateful for.

I’ve had moments of walking in the redwoods and having a butterfly stay close to me on the path for a while, or having a raven follow along with me for a few moments, flying to another branch close to me as I go along. I speak to it and like to think that it hears and responds to me.

I have birdbaths in the back yard and can look up in a random moment to catch one (or sometimes three or four at once!) taking a bath. Have you ever stopped and really watched a bird take a bath? It is its own type of ballet, quite intricate and lovely (and thorough!).

I volunteer at the zoo, and those moments watching and connecting with animals are amazing. I have spent time in front of an elephant, both of us standing still and aware of each other. There are no words for that sacred connection.

I have stood in front of a California condor, both of us looking at each other. Words are not needed. I am humbled by the majesty that I get to observe. When he spreads his wings, I am in awe of the splendor.

I watch children mesmerized by the bears, sitting in front of the glass part of the pool at the bear exhibit, staring at the bears right in front of them, with the bears sometimes staring right back. This is such a sweet and sacred moment of pure connection to be lucky enough to witness.

I feel blessed to be able to write and have others respond to what I write. Each response is such a delight and a connection that can surprise me at times with its depth. Recently, I had a fellow volunteer at the zoo come up to me and ask if I was the woman in the photo that he showed me on his phone, asked me if I was “that blogger” and went on to tell me that his wife loves my writing! OMG! Could he possibly mean me? Yes, that was my photo. This happened on my birthday, and was the best gift I could have received! To be seen, heard, recognized was such a delight, and which I think can be one of the greatest gifts that we can give each other. He even wanted to take a selfie with me! What??!! This was such a delightful moment and one that kept me smiling for the rest of the day.

I have yet another zoo experience to share. The other day a little boy came up to me with a sticker with a picture of a mountain lion on it. I wasn’t sure what he wanted. The docents (which I am not) have animal cards that they give to the children. I don’t carry the cards, being one of the animal behavior observation team, so I wondered if he wanted a card. I asked him, but he just held out the sticker. He didn’t say anything, so I wondered if he was non-verbal. I then asked if the sticker was for me, pointing to myself. He nodded! And I was so happy to get that gift, and thanked him so much, holding my hands crossed at my heart and smiling. I looked up and caught his mother’s eye as we both smiled at each other. What a lovely random gift. With no idea as to what triggered that connection for him, I was so touched and honored by his gift. I will treasure that sticker.

I was at another protest the other day, glad to be among all the people there. A young woman in front of me turned around, talking about how great this was to do this together, to see each other. I responded yes that it helped us feel less alone. We made eye contact, felt the connection and resonance… all with someone whose name I did not know, but whose heart I met in that moment.

Sometimes when walking along, there may be a random stranger and we make eye contact. Mostly it’s brief, and we look away. But there are those times that the look lasts for a bit, and we smile, acknowledging that we see each other and are saying hello without words. Those moments can change the course of what might have been a difficult day up to that point.

A friend from many years ago recently sent me a beautiful journal that she saw and said made her think of me. How lovely to receive this journal from her, and how lovely that something that she saw brought me to mind. It tells me that I still exist at times within her, as she does within me. I love to call her a sweet nickname that we used to call her in college, as a way to bring a smile and to say I remember her and that I still love her.

My ex-husband and I have lovely email contact on our birthdays and anniversaries. This has been such a healing treasure for me. The love that was there, although different in form, survived, even if it was dormant for many years. I am so grateful that we are in contact again, and that we hold each other in our hearts.

As I continue to age, it becomes so important to know that I continue to be in others’ hearts, that I am remembered, that I am seen and heard, that there is still love. And that I can also remember to feel that within and for myself, to acknowledge all that I have gone through, and that I am still here, still sensitive to it all, still alive.

My young neighbor, a sweet young woman, helps to raise Guide Dogs for the Blind. One of them that she had for a while, a beautiful black lab named Whistler, connected in a special way with me. (I think we may have known each other in a past life!) When he visits, he comes up to me with such excitement and love. It makes my day. My neighbor says that he looks out the window when he sees me get home and watches me until I walk through the front door, and that he often will look out the window toward my house to see if I am there.

The other day, this same neighbor came over and brought me a beautiful lilac sprig from her garden. The scent was amazing. What is even more amazing is that I lost almost all my sense of smell years ago after some sinus surgery and it only comes back very randomly and infrequently, mostly for vanilla. But, that day, I could smell that glorious lilac and it brought me to tears. You really appreciate something once you have lost it and get to have it again, even for a moment. I have the memory of that scent still, even as I write this.

Life is not easy, and these times are certainly not easy. I am often filled with anxiety, sadness, frustration, anger, and fear about what will happen. And yet, amid all this, I get these wonderful moments and gifts. These gifts from nature, from the Universe, from God, all remind me to slow down, breathe, and feel the miracles that are still here, still around me. And that helps me come back into my body, helps fortify me for the battles, and helps calm me and remind me to savor each random gift and moment of this one precious life.

Finding Balance

From hikes in the redwoods to protests in the city

I celebrated my 72nd birthday last week. What a time that we are in these days, and my birthday felt different in the midst of it all.

I am grateful to have reached this birthday and to still be here. And I am in turmoil with everything that is going on in our country, the world, and the earth.

I continue to struggle with how to hold onto some semblance of balance.

I want to keep informed, but as has been said before, it’s a fine line between staying informed and maintaining one’s sanity. I keep working on how to walk that line.

So, on my birthday, I signed up for one of my volunteer shifts at the zoo. Being around animals helps soothe and center me. I am training in a new area as a behavior observation volunteer. I did this task for 11 years with the elephants when we had them at the zoo. Now I am learning about a variety of other species that I will be observing during a shift. Pretty much everything moves faster than an elephant, so that is a challenge. And there are a whole lot more animals in this new area, so that’s another change, as are the number of guests, given the huge playground that is also there in front of one of the exhibits.

I will keep learning and training and see if this new area is a good fit. In the meantime, I am falling in love with all of the animals up there and making connections, as well as interacting with the guests and offering what information I have at this early point. I spend time getting to watch eagles, condors, wolves, jaguars, brown bears, black bears, mountain lions, and bison. They are all so special in their own unique ways. It is such a gift to spend time with them all.

Our zoo does a lot of conservation work, education, and does its best for the animals we have, most of them rescues. We even are helping to repopulate the bison tribe for the Blackfeet Nation in Montana. When we have bison calves, and when they are ready and able, we transport them from California to Montana, with ceremonies and prayers held along the way.

It was a good birthday morning. I came home and was quiet for most of the rest of the day, happy to receive birthday messages from friends. A friend had taken me out for a wonderful birthday dinner the evening before, as the restaurant that I wanted to go to was closed on my birthday. It was a day filled with much love and gratitude. I also tried to limit the amount of news that I watched that day, which helped.

The next day, earth day, (at this age, I celebrate my birthday week, and even birthday month! Why not?) I took myself to the redwoods for a long walk. That is my cathedral, where I most feel the Sacred Presence of God/the Universe/all the names we use for that which is greater than us. The trees are sacred to me. I feel their essence when I touch them. Yes, I am a certified tree-hugger and proud of it! They don’t hug and tell, either, as they are discreet and I know that my secrets are safe with them. I feel safe being with them, which is not how I feel in the world these days.

The following Saturday, my neighbor and I attended a protest (against what is currently happening in our government) that was held downtown. We took our signs and yelled, clapped, and shared that time with others who were like-minded. It warmed my heart to see all ages represented there, from all walks of life. It felt right to be among the crowd, to use our voices, to stand up for what we believe in and what we have fought so hard for in this country. I have marched in demonstrations before, being 72, for various causes. I have been in marches for peace, for the women’s movement, against the slaughter of elephants for their tusks, and other causes. I treasure my freedom to do that, and I don’t want future generations to lose that, to lose our beloved freedom of speech.

Looking back, I am struck by all that the week contained, from the animal connections, the peace of the redwoods, the celebration of this beautiful earth and wanting to heal the damage that we have done, to the anger and pain of the protest. This is a metaphor for life, I think. It contains joy and pain. It’s important to remember to take moments of peace, as well as to use our voices. It is all part of the journey, Balance means including it all, but not getting too lost in any one part of it, so that we maintain our sanity and wholeness, so that we can keep carrying on, so that we can try to save what we can for those to come, so that we can try and take care of things that we can while we are here.

I love being alive, with all of its gifts, including the painful ones. If we are truly alive, we feel it all. We celebrate, we mourn, we love, we fight, we live. I am grateful for what I have, for all that we still have, and for the energy and love that I still see around me that I pray will overcome the hatred and division in the end.

I have hope, and will continue to hang onto that, even if I don’t live long enough to see things turn around. I must believe in the power of love, and that keeps me going. I will keep celebrating being alive, celebrating human kindness, compassion, strength, resilience, and hope.

I will keep working on finding balance each day, even if with wobbly steps. And I will remember to reach out and hold onto others’ hands as we walk together.

Owning the Time Left

I find myself thinking it’s too late for many things, but is it?

As a member of the elder tribe, I find that I can easily slip into a sense of things being over, of it being too late for anything major, of even wondering what purpose I may serve or is this the do the best you can until you die time.

To give a bit of background, I came from a family where my parents began talking about being too old for many things while they were still in their 40’s. So, yes, this was not a great message to start with.

Our society doesn’t help that message either. We glorify youth, the future, making plans, working toward goals, and all that the earlier parts of our lives can offer, if we have the opportunities and means. These are all wonderful parts of life, but is that all that there is?

It seems that, once we reach a certain age, it is easier to believe in and wear the cloak of invisibility that is thrust upon us, to believe that we are on the sidelines, now that we have supposedly ended the productive, useful, vibrant part of our lives. We are portrayed as cute, infirm, nonsexual, forgetful, doddering, to be smiled at with an attitude that implies that we are somehow less than.

This is interesting, given that we have already lived full lives, and now suddenly we are to get off the carousel, sit on the sidelines, and smile lovingly from a distance and from the land of observer versus participant. Why?

And even more distressing to me, what I discover these days is the internal judge and commander within me who buys into this attitude and reminds me of it constantly. Sit home, don’t do that, don’t try that, you can’t do that, your time has passed and you lost the chance, you are too old, this is beyond you….you get the gist. You can probably add your own versions of these messages.

I am not discounting the changes that come with aging. Changes in my body, in my flexibility, in my strength, in my memory, sharpness of mind, or speed of thought… I see and feel them all. And I must adjust to these changes as needed.

Are these reasons to stop living as fully as I might?

One thing that I think that I need to do is to look within and see if my negative internal messages might be justifications, excuses so that I don’t have to face my fears of failing, looking foolish, or being judged and laughed at. I talk about not caring nearly as much about what others think anymore, and to an extent, this is true and one of the gifts of aging. But, if I look more deeply within and watch my own actions, I have to wonder if there is still part of me that bends to the ever present internal judge, the rules (both internal and external) , the admonitions, the commandments for how to be old.

I think that these days I feel this even more sharply, given the catastrophic changes that are happening in our country and in the world. I can easily feel that sense of defeat, hopelessness, powerlessness, with not enough time or energy within me left to fight. With enough messages and actions thrown at us every day, we can become disoriented, lose focus, feel as if we are powerless and that there is nothing left to do. And if we are older, we can feel that way even more intensely with thoughts that we may not even live long enough to see things turn around.

It’s time to challenge the dictators (inside and out), to look at the messages and challenges in a different way, to remember who we have been, what our strengths are, and to once again use them to participate fully however we can in our lives.

With our country and the world, we can decide to join where we may be useful, contribute in ways that we can, encourage hope, light, and kindness as well as to protest when we see evil, discrimination, hatred and division. We can look more at where the messages are being sent from instead of pointing fingers at each other, distracted and divided. We can still be active members of this country, of the America that I still believe in, the one that I grew up in, the one that my parents fought hard to come to and came to deeply love and appreciate and taught me to do the same.

And with my journey of aging, perhaps I can realize that there is more inside me than the internalized rules and admonitions about aging. I still have the hopes and delights of the young girl, the dreams and passions of youth, the laughter and love for life. These things don’t get old, they just get pushed into being quieter. Perhaps I don’t have to be so quiet and can live out loud as an elder. Perhaps we can age proudly and loudly.

We can claim our right to still be here, to still participate fully, to enjoy life and each other, to encourage the next generations and be examples of how to keep living, keep fighting, keep hoping, keep loving and keep being present until the very end.

It’s not over yet, not by a long shot.

Writing from the Storm

Chaos all around me. I need to write again.

I can’t find my center these days. The crisis and turmoil of our country and the world stir endlessly inside me. I try and take breaks, like from the news, but it is still happening and I am still reacting, as are so many of us.

What happened? How did we get here? And how did we become so divided? When did being mean and cruel, condescending to other world leaders, contentious and provocative to our neighbors, hateful toward any who do not agree, censoring and banning words, books, and any opposition…when did these things become acceptable? When did we throw out the Constitution and rule of law. When did this country decide to move toward becoming a monarchy and no longer a democracy.

I haven’t been able to focus, to write, to paint, to do much of anything except the very basics. I feel lost and off balance. I know that I am not alone, and talking with others who are of like mind helps for a bit. But the chaos continues to come.

So, one question becomes, how do we figure out the best way to take care of ourselves?

Watching too much news is not good, I know. As someone said, it’s a fine line between keeping informed and maintaining our mental health.

I contribute to causes and fights. I will figure out where and how I can best devote time and energy.

But I must keep also fighting for the survival of myself. The self who writes, the self who paints, the self who goes for walks in the redwoods, the self who remembers to laugh and most importantly, to take deep long breaths.

I am older, and I have seen many things come and go, have survived things, have seen major shifts and changes. I know that things keep changing. But sometimes it’s hard to stay balanced when the pendulum has swung to such an extreme.

I still believe in the power of kindness and love. So, I can, as an act of rebellion (but mostly because it is who I want to be) continue to be kind wherever and whenever I can, given that I am human and not always successful. But, most of the time, I think that I am kind. And there are also times when boundaries need to be set, when anger lets us know that something is wrong and needs paying attention to.

All this stress and division can make us ill. I can feel the cortisol flowing through my body, and that’s not good. It causes inflammation. I am inflamed in many ways, I think. Can I turn that fire around and aim it where needed? Can it become a fire of truth, conviction, values, and belief in love? Can it join with others to flame the feeling of That’s enough. No more. We are better than this. We can do better. We cannot quietly accept what we see happening around us that has left so many of us lost, confused and not knowing which way to turn.

So today I am writing, and grateful. I am not going to worry about how much to edit. I just need to write and send it out, to let the voice inside me know that I still hear her and will let her out into the world, at a time when we are being threatened for speaking our truth, when institutions are being threatened when they don’t follow the new rules, when free speech itself is being strangled.

And I will pull out a canvas and start a sketch, to allow that side of me to express itself as well, no matter what may show itself on the canvas. That needs to be ok.

We must not allow our inner voices, feelings, sadness, frustration, and anger be quieted. We cannot allow the shock and confusion and utter disbelief to stop the life within us and the life between us. We are not enemies. We are humans trying to sort through this life, and we need to come together, have discussions, stop calling each other names. I can try to understand your point of view, why you have done things that you have done, and I ask the same from you. Our system was not perfect, by any means, but it was not broken to the point of having to be completely destroyed, I think.

Can we come back together? Can we salvage this. Can we stop any further damage. Can we heal. I don’t know the answers. So, for today, I will write, I will start a sketch, I will reach out to friends, and I will sit quietly in prayer to the Universe, for us all.

The Gift of Sadness

We need not fear it

I’ve noticed how difficult it can be at times to simply sit and be with someone in their sadness.

It can be hard to see someone struggling, especially someone that we care about. It’s hard to see their tears, feel their pain, and to be with them in the darker parts of being human. We are drawn to want to help them feel better. I know that I can fall into that pattern as well and have to try and catch myself.

Maybe their sadness also reminds us of our own struggles, pain, and grief.

And so, well intentioned as it may be, we may try to distract them, ask them about something positive, try to help them see things differently, tell them that this too shall pass, or relate our own sad story and how we got through it.

But what if we just sat beside them and listened, perhaps put a hand on their shoulder for a moment, and let them know we are there beside them, caring, hearing them, seeing them?

We are not taught to be comfortable with all of our own feelings, to honor all of them and not just those that may feel more pleasurable. And if we are not comfortable with our own feelings, it’s also harder to be comfortable with someone else’s.

I think that sadness can be a gift of being human. We feel, and that’s a gift. And to feel sadness can mean we have loved and lost, or that we have lived and been bruised by life in other ways…. and to then share that with another is to expose a very tender and vulnerable part of ourselves. Sharing that vulnerability can create more depth and true connection between us, as we acknowledge each of our fragile places inside and treat them tenderly and with love.

I was watching a TV program the other day as this soulful singer performed “What Makes You Sad” ( Nicotine Dolls/ Sam Cieri.) When he sang the line “Tell me what makes you sad”, that question went right to my core. I could imagine someone asking me that, how that would make me feel that they wanted to really know me on a deeper level. As the song continued and the camera showed members of the audience, I could see others reacting as well, especially women, holding their hands up to their hearts.

Think about it…. If I ask you to tell me what makes you sad, what does that touch inside of you?

I have a dear friend who frequently asks me, when we talk on the phone, about what good things happened to me that day. I appreciate that he wants to know that, but there are times that his question may shut down where I really am emotionally at the moment, as I get the message that he only wants to hear the positive experiences. And so that’s what I share. But it inadvertently can create a bit more distance rather than closeness. And he’s not someone that I would likely call when I’m upset and need to talk.

Life has joy and pain, laughter and tears, and much bittersweetness. It’s all part of being human, of who we are and what we go through on this journey. How sacred it can be to share all of this with each other, to acknowledge our pain and broken pieces, and to realize we are in this together and can offer each other understanding, comfort, and love.

Maybe we can begin by hearing our own sadness, by really listening to our hearts and asking ourselves… Tell me what makes you sad… So then we will know the answer when someone asks us, and can more deeply hear their answer when we ask them.

Women of a Certain Age

Certain about what?

We females of the elder tribe are often referred to as”women of a certain age”. What does this even mean? What are we supposed to be certain about? Did I miss something somewhere?

I find that I’m not certain about a lot of things these days. I’m not certain about where my body and face will end up as they morph into what seems to be a combination of my mother’s and father’s aging faces and bodies.

I’m not certain how far south my breasts will travel. I’m not certain if my lips will disappear altogether as they roll back into my mouth, or how much more decorated my face and body will become as they get increasingly adorned with lines, wrinkles, and spots.

I’m not certain about which hikes I can take until I research the location of restrooms along the way. (Is this what they mean by “golden years”?)

It’s so important to keep our sense of humor, yes?

I’m not certain about whether I’ve fulfilled my purpose thus far in my life or even whether I know what that purpose might be.

I’m uncertain about where I’ll end up living as I continue aging, which of my friends will be on this path with me, who may leave too soon, whether my mind will stay with me. So many questions, so much that we cannot know.

And yet, I realize that I have had lessons and experiences along the way that do help me become more certain about at least a few things.

I’m learning to let go of things that I cannot control. That list gets longer every day.

I’m learning about the power of kindness, the exquisiteness of silence in a forest, the deepening connection that I feel with the earth and its creatures, the comfort of touching a tree and feeling that touch to my core, the loveliness of random connections, the gift of a smile that can change the course of my day, the slowing down that elderhood can bring, the slowing that helps me look around me and see more deeply, the relief of forgiveness and letting go, the bittersweetness of loss and grieving that is a testament to the depth of love felt.

I am learning that I still feel hope, even in the darkest times, when I look into the faces of my neighbor’s babies. And I’m hopeful when I see examples of human kindness every day.

My memory may not be as sharp these days, my body may not have its youthful vigor, but my heart expands and my spirit grows ever deeper.

I’m grateful these days for each morning that I wake up, for each breath, for my life.

And about all of that I’m very certain!

An Uber Ride with Benefits

No, not THAT kind of benefit!

As I continue my walk through this land of elderhood, I continue to be surprised by the random gifts and moments of shared experiences and smiles that can come from such unexpected places.

The other day, I had just dropped my car off at the dealer to get it serviced and was waiting for an Uber driver to take me home. I slipped into the car, said hello, and we were on our way.

These rides can be so unique. Some drivers are quiet, some quite talkative, and some seem to try and sense how you are. This was a man who told me that he had just dropped off his son at school, his son being 13. Oh, I said, the start of the teenage years! He laughed, said yes, and said that his son was a good kid.

He asked what I had planned for the day.

This is such a different question for me since I have retired. I did have plans for the day, but they are certainly different than what I might have said when working, or when running errands on weekends. Do I tell the truth? What will that sound like, I wondered? But, since my goal is to live more authentically these days, I told him that I was going to be doing some writing and some painting.

To my surprise, he seemed delighted with my response. Really, he asked. All that? And he then went on to share that he also loved to paint and to write. As he told me more about himself, he talked about having worked in many different jobs in his life, such as a firefighter, a paramedic, and other different positions. He said that his primary goal was to spend time with his son while he grew up, to be able to be with him as much as possible and to not spend too much of that precious time to any one job. He talked about his son with such love and tenderness, and how happy he was that he had made this choice. As a matter of fact, he went on to say, he and his son had talked about selling a lot of the stuff that they had accumulated in the house so that he could continue spending more time with his son (like coaching his sport teams) and went on to say that he could continue to work at odd jobs to make money to pay the bills.

It was such a delight to hear his story, how much heart he had in the decisions that he was making, how happy he was to have this time with his son, how he had no regrets about his choices and how he hoped that he would be a model for his son when he had his own children.

Here was someone who was living their values to the best of their ability, who was walking the walk and not just talking the talk.

I shared a bit about how, since I had retired, I now had time to do the things that I loved, such as writing, painting, walking in the redwoods, taking classes that I enjoyed, and relishing in solitude when I needed it. I went on to say how I thought that it was wonderful that he was doing this now, not waiting for retirement, to live his life, to enjoy his family, to make choices from his heart and figure out how to make those choices work.

He seemed to be pleased with my comments and encouragement. And I loved being able to be an elder at that moment and let him know how wonderful I thought that what he was doing was, how he was really thinking about what was important and then building his life around that, how he was being as true to what he believed in.

A ride of a few minutes turned into an instant connection. By the time I got out of the car, we both talked about how pleased we were to have met each other. And when I gave him a tip and told him to have a coffee on me, he smiled and said that in fact, he had not had a chance to have his coffee yet that morning and was delighted to have a coffee on me.

Here it was again, I thought. A random moment of connection that changed the course of my day, that made me smile and helped me feel as if I had touched souls with someone for a moment in time. It didn’t matter that I would most likely never see him again. What mattered was that moment in time that we shared. That understanding and affection expressed between total strangers made a difference, I think, in both of our days. I know that it did for me.

There are surprises and gifts everywhere, sometimes in the most random places and when you least expect them. I am reminded to be open, to breathe into each moment and see what might be offered there, and to cherish each gift in this precious time on earth. Each moment can contain a lifetime, an eternity, a grace, and gift, now that, as an elder, I am slowing down enough to see it, hear it, feel it, and be in it.

These moments are what I often remember that make me smile. And isn’t that the point of it all? To smile, to connect, to share, to love, to hold each other’s hands while, as Rumi wrote, “we’re all just walking each other home.”

Letting Go of Disappointment

The wisdom of aging can bring this gift

Aging brings many gifts, some more challenging than others.

Letting go of disappointment is one of those gifts for me.

Being in the land of elderhood can bring the wisdom to realize that there are many things (most) that we have no control over. I spent my youth trying to make things around me be as I thought that they should be, including people. I was trying to get my needs met through one person at a time, trying to mold them into being what I thought that I needed.

I was frequently disappointed.

Of course I was disappointed. It was a set up for failure, as people are who they are. I am finally seeing this more clearly, learning to accept things that cannot be changed, and instead learning to see what is there in front of me.

I don’t mean that people in relationships can’t ask each other for needs and wants so that then the other person can see if they give those. What I am referring to is something different. I, in my past, unfairly wanted someone who may have expressed their love in their own language, which didn’t match mine, to be who I wanted them to be, not realizing that this was someone who may have had a different view of what our relationship was and who could never meet what I thought that I needed.

As an elder, I now try to see people for who they are and what their gifts and strengths are. I am also more realistic about what I can or cannot give to someone else, if their needs may not be something that I can meet without sacrificing too much of myself.

What a relief it is to reach this point. When I work to accept others, I find that I am more open to receiving love in different forms. I am grateful for it all.

I can discern when I stop and take the time to see people as they are, who may be a good enough fit and who it may be better to let go and wish them well. Not everyone is a good fit, and that’s ok. It is such a relief to welcome the word no into my vocabulary.

This theme and practice of acceptance fits so many areas of my life these days. Aging brings many issues, and acceptance of each can bring its own gift.

Feeling invisible brings the benefit of feeling more comfortable in allowing myself to be more of who I am.

My changing body is teaching me to let go of defining myself by my physicality and to learn to embrace the whole of me.

Increasing losses and grief bring an appreciation for each moment and for who and what that I still have in my life, as well as gratitude for those gone.

Loneliness can bring the gift of remembering to go within, to explore my own company, to cherish the gift of solitude and the peace that this can bring me.

The reality of mortality brings more permission to let go of worrying about others’ expectations, of trying to please others, and realizing that now is the time to finally be myself.

Love now comes in different forms, like the smile of a stranger, the kindness of friends, the chance encounter that reaches a depth that can be such a delightful surprise. It can even come in the whisper of a breeze, the wag of a tail, the purr of a furry companion.

Now comes the real challenge for me…finally accepting myself with all my flaws and humanity. Can I forgive myself, can I realize that I did the best that I could at the time, even though the inner critic keeps telling me that I could have done better. Can I accept my mistakes?

Can I still keep growing while still loving the current version of myself, learn lessons that I still need, let go of any disappointment that I feel about myself? Can I give the love that I have craved all of my life to myself, finally?

As elders, I think that this can be one of our greatest lessons. We are all human, all flawed, all have made mistakes, all have regrets. The road from disappointment to acceptance can be a challenging one, but one filled with such rewards, as we learn to stop and see the love and gifts that are right there in front of us, as well as within us.

The Importance of Connections

They can be found everywhere

It is once again the holiday season, a time when many focus on families, close friends, and loving connections.

I live alone, have no family nearby, and yet feel very connected to others. For me, I realize more these days, as an elder, that connection can be found in the most interesting and surprising places, and that there are no rules for what makes us feel connected. For me, there is no minimum time or length of contact, no frequency that is mandatory for connections to happen.

I visited the mausoleum yesterday, Thanksgiving Day, to honor the memory of my parents. It is a peaceful place and reminds us to live fully while we are here. I see new residents there each time that I visit, of all ages, all walks of life. It is sobering, humbling, and thought provoking, especially as we age.

While I was quietly sitting there, a couple passed by. This is a place where we all go for the same reason…to visit those who are no longer with us, to pay our respect, to remember. As they walked by, they looked my way to see if I would welcome contact or would rather be left alone in quietness. We made eye contact, smiled, and wished each other a happy Thanksgiving. In that moment, I could feel that we shared much more than that warm greeting. We shared a companionship in grief, an acknowledgment of our loss, a welcoming to the sacred space of remembering and shared solitude. I felt much less alone after that brief, but significant, contact.

I think that this happens all the time. We may have a quick conversation with a grocery clerk or someone at a coffee shop, and depending on the conversation, may share a depth that might be surprising. It can change the course of our day, of our mood, of our spirit.

As an elder, I now cherish and appreciate how different my sense of time is, how I am no longer rushed by work or obligations, how I can be more attentive and intentional in my connections with others. When I ask someone how are you, I wait for an answer, and will follow up on what they might say, especially if they say more than the usual “Fine”. It’s such a gift, even for a moment, to connect in that way and share in the moment that we are both occupying right then, to be able to offer someone the gift of seeing and hearing them. We never know what someone is going through and what that moment of being heard and seen might mean to them.

It’s interesting to notice what does help me feel connected. I have a friend with whom I frequently have interesting phone conversations with. We talk about ideas, about changes in the world, about his work. This friend and I used to work together with a team that would take clients on a 13-week process to help them learn more about their patterns in life and how things from the past might be holding them back. So we can relate to that and connect it to the work that he does today as a consultant to business teams, trying to help them work better together.

I appreciate these conversations and my friendship with him. And yet, I noticed the other day, that I felt something missing after we hung up. I thought that was odd, but then I realized that he did not ask me how I was, and then wait to hear my response. I had, before this conversation, always asked him how he was as soon as he would call. But this time, I didn’t. I was quiet and waited to hear what he might want to talk about, or if there was something that he wanted to talk about since he had called. It was a fun talk, but I didn’t feel particularly close or feel that he had any sense of things going on inside of me.

That’s ok. I think that different people can give us different levels of depth and connection and that we can appreciate them for who they are. I also think that it’s important to notice if we are feeling any need or lack in that area so we can then figure out how best to get that need met.

Before that, though, I think that there may be something else that we may be missing… a connection to ourselves. How often do we stop and ask ourselves how we are doing, what is going on, what might we need right then. And if we are not aware of what is going on inside of us, if we don’t have the patience to ask and listen to our own depths, fears, anxieties and pain, how can we hear others? If our own internal waters are troubled and churning and we haven’t taken the time to acknowledge this in ourselves and take care of ourselves, then how can we offer others a quiet place of comfort and peace in which to share themselves. If we have not explored and heard the depths of our own pain, how can we sit with others as they talk about theirs.

I think that this lack of connection to ourselves is a pattern in our society these days. We have much to distract us, much to fill the quiet spaces, spaces where we might better be able to hear our inner spirit if we allow the quietness to speak to us.

Do we teach our children this? Do we teach them how to get to know themselves, their feelings, their internal states. How often are they taught facts and rules and shoulds, but not how to go inside and explore their own depths.

Elders have much to share. Yet they can often be surprised when asked how they are and then have someone stop and deeply listen. It can be hard to hear some of the issues and feelings that aging can bring. Yet there is richness there to explore, gifts to find, and connections to be made, connections that can help seniors feel less isolated for a bit.

There can be animal connections. Although they may not speak with us in our language, they speak the language of empathy, sensing how we feel, coming close to us in times of pain or need, offering comfort and love, and simply being with us.

There can be connections that don’t have to be in person. I am often touched by the comments and feedback that I get from others about something of mine that they read. They sometimes write that they feel heard and seen, that they feel a bit less alone, that there is some relief in knowing that others feel some of what they might be feeling. I feel the same when I read articles that resonate with me, and I try to let the writers know that I am grateful.

Aging can bring the gift of realizing that each moment is precious, that this moment can be more precious than years past or those to come, if we are paying attention. It’s time to realize that the time to be present is now, while we are still here, and that we can give this gift to each other, to share the path for a while along the way, to connect, to reach out and touch each other’s souls, and to realize that we are not alone.