Category: Our good health (page 1 of 11)

What you do (don’t) want.

You’d like to be thinner, but you enjoy pretty good health.

The car is really boring, but it’s paid for. 

He’s doesn’t share your values, but he’s willing to help in an emergency.

The fog is too heavy to see through, but the golden and red leaves covering the path under your feet are so lovely.

You’d really rather be over there, but you’re okay here.

It’s enough to make you crazy.  This whole back and forth of what we want, what we need and what we be better be careful we ask for.  Cause we might get it.

They say being able to delay gratification is a sign of maturity.  But what about the yearning for it that won’t go away?  The incessant buzzing like a mosquito in your ear that keeps telling you hey, you’re supposed to be someplace else.  Doing something else.  With someone else.  Living this other life.  You know, the one you live in your head.

Is it enough to practice gratitude every day?  Or do we have to go deeper….finding the shutoff valve in the very back of our head where our parents’ voices, our teachers’ voices, and whoever else we’ve invited to take up space keep telling us how it all should be.  As my mother used to say, “how the cow ate the cabbage.”

Technology isn’t much help.  Even though we’re boomers and we lived many years not having so many things at our fingertips, we’re getting spoiled too.  A recent Psychology Today article touched on how so many younger people have been conditioned to think everything comes as quick and easy as a Google search. Like relationships:

“Young people are lacking a sense of meaning and feeling unsatisfied at a deep level. Simultaneously, there has been a deterioration in the depth, reliability, and connectedness of friendships and relationships in general.  The reason, in part, for these unfortunate changes is that we have taken the values and expectations that we have learned through our relationship with technology, and applied them to all of life. And yet, immediacy and ease, as values for the more profound aspects of our existence, don’t work.”

Things take effort.  Change can hurt.  It’s not easy to get in shape.  Get a better job.  Make a scary move.  Cut all your hair off and dye your head pink.  Whatever it is, it’s not just going to happen.  You have to put in the effort.

Maybe sometimes the real lesson comes in just sitting in confusion.  Enduring the anxiety that arises when the way ahead is not clear.  Actually being still.

As Wendell Berry says:

“It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work and when we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey.”

Could that be true?  If so, it’s actually kind of encouraging.  Because instead of feeling like you’re at the end of the road, it means there’s another path ahead.  One that will take you somewhere new and maybe unexpected…but maybe exactly where you need to be.

“If you want to conquer fear, don’t sit and think about it.  Go out and get busy.”

       Dale Carnegie

 

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Welcoming Fall

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Fall

Early morning cool

Leaves starting their journey

Soft jackets with stubborn zippers

Announcers in filled football stadiums

Squirrels getting busier

Chili peppers teasing your nose

Bright lights of a county fair

New pencils and sharp crayons

Meeting new characters on television

Early blanket of darkness

Elk are bugling

Socks and sweatshirts

Warm cider and hot tea

A different light in the afternoon

Airing out the quilt

Reading the Farmer’s Almanac

Stocking up on essentials

Summer’s last gasp in September

Laughing by the fire pit

Relaxing in the season

What is September for you? A time of exciting new beginnings? Or painful memories from years gone by? Does the cool air energize and inspire you, or do you wish summer’s warmth would linger?  Of course you may live somewhere that offers high temperatures year-round. If so, what does the change of season mean to you?

I’ve always viewed September with mixed emotions. As a child, it was the whole back-to-school thing. Then it was the back-to-campus thing during college. Then you “become an adult” and school calendars no longer rule your life (though I swear universally work stops for everyone the first week of school, and the last week of school, because no one knows where their kids, car keys, or brain are).

But then September changed for me.

IMG_6287I became relieved by the cooler temperatures. It felt like a time to go inward and be still.  I loved the changing leaves and gorgeous sunsets.

Now as I am much older, September is also symbolic of how quickly things change. How life passes before we’re ready.

How we need to take the trip today, tell someone we love him or her today, have dessert first today.

How we should not “postpone our joy”.

September is just a month; the beginning of a new season. But I think inside, it’s also our cue to pull the blanket around us and warm up to our lives.

Luckily, as boomers, we have a lot of kindling.

“There is a pearl in every season. Find it. Then give all you have to claim it.”

       Joan Sauro

 

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We are all “The Hero”

I saw The Hero this weekend, a new movie starring Sam Elliott.  That’s probably enough said, as Sam Elliott is one of my favorites, and not just for the obvious physical appeal.  It goes a lot deeper, as each of his many roles has demonstrated, but none more than this one.  Especially for boomers and beyond, this one resonates deep.

Without giving away spoilers that aren’t already in the movie’s trailer, Sam plays a veteran actor of western genre movies who gets some bad news about his health.  Understandably, he begins examining his life, attempting to reach out to those he’s loved, trying to rekindle a dwindling career, and frankly just make sense of it all.

Who among us, as we age, hasn’t wondered how we would feel if we got a depressing diagnosis?  Maybe some of you already have.  Maybe a loved one has.  It really simplifies things really fast.

Watching the movie, I was struck by many things.

How fast your life goes by.

How suddenly you walk into a room and you are the oldest and often by many years.

How simple things are now harder, not matter how in shape you are or how many crossword puzzles you do.

How the mirror isn’t your friend anymore.

Dang but inside, you’re about 45.  Ready to chart a new course.  Start a new love affair.  Travel the world.

But first, maybe just sit down and take a breath.  Or even a nap.

Sam shows every emotion in this film.  Fear, tenderness, embarrassment, frustration, anger, resolution. A lifetime.  He feels he’s only done one good thing in his career.  Yet as the film unfolds, it’s clear he’s touched many lives and had an impact he may never fully realize.

I want to think that’s true for each of us.  Because aging can feel scary.  Lonely.  Like your once ever-expanding world is suddenly getting so much smaller.  Your real friends, fewer.  Your joyful moments, only now and then.  And it’s too easy to think we haven’t amounted to much.

We don’t feel like heroes.  But don’t you believe it.  We ARE.

We’ve made others smile.  Held someone’s hand to cross the street.  Taught valuable lessons.  Sang over a few hundred birthday cakes. Been there through disasters. Comforted grieving spouses.  Helped our children learn patience. Showed what true friendship means.  Taken care of our frail parents.  Worried over a sickly pet.

We may not feel like our life matters, but maybe that’s the nature of life.  To not get to know the ending until afterwards.  Like someone who leaves a movie early and misses the gem after the credits.

It’s there.  But only for those who are still around.

Our role is to keep going forward.

I suggest you go see The Hero.  There’s a scene in the movie that speaks to the idea that everyone is a star, everyone is a hero.  That’s something we all can use.

Cause we’re still rockin’ it.

 

“Promise me you’ll always remember: You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” – Christopher Robin to Winnie the Pooh

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Losing power. Again.

Day 3 of no electricity due to a recent storm.

Day 3 of no internet (without driving to another location).  Day 3 of no unlimited life on the phone (without driving elsewhere to charge).  Day 3 of no television, radio, CD player, Netflix and other entertainment choices powered by electricity.

Day 3 of no way to straighten or curl hair.  To flip a switch and see your face well enough to “fix it”, as my mother used to say.

Day 3 of thinking about all the food in your refrigerator that had to be thrown away.  And realizing how dependent you are on electricity when mealtime comes around.

Day 3 of realizing you should have done the laundry…because you’re almost out of underwear.

Day 3 of your long-haired dog panting and looking at you with imploring eyes.

Day (and night) 3 of getting candles set up in the right places so when the sun goes down, you can walk through your residence without crashing into anything.  And of sitting still on the couch and listening to the occasional traffic, or hearing neighborhood children outside playing, or a mockingbird serenading its top 40 bird songs.

Day 3 of just being.  Other than the stress of having to figure out when you need to be somewhere to receive work emails, you are for all practical purposes, truly without power.

As in powerless.

Of course, we are always powerless.  But we don’t know that.  With so many gadgets and plug-ins and apps, we really are the masters of our universe most of the time, at least in our den.

At least in our minds.

Yet let one good 100 mph microburst show up, and everything suddenly gets very dark.

Very quiet.

For some, it’s truly the first time they have ever really just had to be.  And it makes them quite uneasy.

Just sitting, listening to the sounds of the evening, thinking, meditating, breathing.  Or, fidgeting, fretting and letting frustration win.

What if life was always like this?  If you finished your work, had your dinner (which came only from what you had grown or raised), and now spent your evening by candlelight, with no external stimulation?

it’s interesting that we have come so far in so many ways, obtained so much knowledge, learned about so many wonderful cultural opportunities, expanded our minds as never before, and yet, when we can’t “turn something on”, something that it outside of us, that does not directly engage with us, we don’t know what to do with ourselves.

Withdrawal can be very hard.

I confess it’s illuminating (even in the dark) to realize just how dependent I am on white noise…on an electronic presence in the room that seems to “connect” me to other people and feels safe and familiar.  There’s nothing wrong with enjoying that.  But I wonder, does it keep me from a little too comfortable?

As baby boomers and beyond, we’ve had so many different experiences, and we’ve more than earned the right to enjoy sitting on the couch and watching movies, or listening to music, or just enjoying being inside the air-conditioning.  But maybe very once in a while, we should pretend we don’t have electricity, and power ourselves down.

And sit in the dark.  And hear the symphony that is the night:  a breeze, laughter, the hoot of an owl, gentle rain.

It might help us remember just how powerless we really are.   I”m okay with that.

But I confess…I’d rather do it when it’s 60 degrees.

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