Category: Uncategorized (Page 24 of 40)

A new affair with life.

07/31/2017 / Laura

“Man may turn which way he please, and undertake any thing whatsoever,” wrote Goethe, “he will always return to the path which nature has prescribed for him.”

We do our best. We tell ourselves from a very early age what we’re supposed to do, the school we need to attend, the career that best suits us. We follow the prescribed path, live the in the apartment or house we find along the way, often have the spouse or children we know is expected of us, and then we are told that now is the time to rest, to sit back, to retire.

And yet, our minds do not retire. Our passions do not retire.

And very often, we really aren’t ready to retire.

Movies will tell us it all just works out. Television commercials show alarmingly attractive people with flowing white hair sailing, drinking coffee on the porch of a magnificent A-frame in Montana, or laughing with perfectly behaving children flying a kite.

Who are these people, and what did they do for a living?

But it’s more than that. It’s hitting the 60’s and not feeling that much different inside than you did in your 50’s. Or 40’s. You are even more curious. More interested in absorbing great poetry, great wisdom, great wine and great silence. The kind of silence you find on a walk in the woods.

A silence that beckons you to really listen to the voice inside of you…the voice that might be speaking even louder than ever.

“The great affair, the love affair with life, is to live as variously as possible, to groom one’s curiosity like a high-spirited thoroughbred, climb aboard, and gallop over the thick, sun struck hills every day. Where there is no risk the emotional terrain is flat and unyielding, and despite all its dimensions, valleys, pinnacles and detours, life will seem to have none of its magnificent geography, only a length. It began in mystery, and it will end in mystery, but what a savage and beautiful country lies in between.”

Diane Ackerman

I don’t want to let go of that mystery. Yet sometimes, I can feel the forces of aging (or is it what I perceive as aging?) pulling me into a kind of lull, as though a soothing being with a harp was telling me to pull out of the race, retire my dreams, and put aside still-deep desires to see new things and learn new ideas.

It’s as though I’m about to summit Mt Everest, but the storm is too strong, the winds too mighty, the cold, too much for me. “Just close your eyes and sleep”, the voice wants to say. “You’ve had a good climb.”

HEY! WAIT A MINUTE!

I’m not ready for that. Note even close.

For one thing, hitting the 60s and beyond is not the end of the road. Life expectancy is far beyond that for most of us. So in practical terms, we still have to pay our bills, try to somehow afford health care, and have a productive life. Some are blessed with pensions and ample nest eggs. But many of us must still earn our living.

Maybe we can’t run the marathon, but we better lace up and get on the track.

Recently I had a bit of an epiphany. No blinding lights or trumpets sounding, just some shifting in my thinking. I was letting my world get too small. I was receding from a bit too many things. I was trying to convince myself that it was okay to give up the things that bring me the greatest joy: living in a beautiful natural setting, hiking and walking along mountain trails, and simply breathing in the beauty of the universe.

I went back for a visit to the place I had moved to almost a decade ago…the same place I left about a year ago…and the flame was re-ignited.

I’m just not ready to “act my age”. (What does that mean, anyway?)

I’m challenging myself with rebooting my brain and my achy joints and my forgetful memory and my wrinkles and coming up with a new plan for the next chapter.

It might mean I get back to where I was…in more ways than one.

It might mean I go somewhere entirely new…physically, but maybe just mentally.

For sure, it means I’m not standing still. Not now. Not ever.

Because moss is beautiful. But I don’t want any growing on me.

“In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.”

John Muir

We are all “The Hero”

07/03/2017 / Laura

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

The disappearing thank-you note.

06/19/2017 / Laura

Does no one send thank-you notes anymore?

Does that very question reveal that I am well above 50 and grew up when everyone did write notes? Or that I even remember what writing a note means?

Seriously. Is this really an age thing? I hear so many boomers complaining about their friends’ children, or their own younger relatives, who never acknowledge graduation, wedding, or birthday gifts. They sigh and say, oh, it’s just “this generation”.

Is that true? And if so, then tell me who raised “this generation”?

I just don’t get it.

I do get how busy everyone is. I do get how things have changed so much and younger people are doing a whole lot more than we (or at least I) was doing at their age. I get social media and all that jazz. I get summer internships and applying for schools and looking for a job and setting up a home and making sure your Facebook page is constantly refreshed.

But why should any of that get in the place of thanking someone? Or just acknowledging that a gift was received…that another person took the time to think about you, and either wrote a check or chose a gift, gave it to you, and hope you truly like it.

I can say this for sure, my mother made sure we understand the role of a thank-you note.

I sometimes truly grieve how handwritten notes of any kind seem to have gone away. Friends would put a note in your locker at school. A secret admirer might send you a card in the mail with a mysterious message inside, or even fold one under your car’s wipers to give you a smile in the morning. Generations before me perfected the art of writing love letters during wartime and sealing a bond that grew stronger despite the distance.

It meant something. And it was a joy to re-read years after the fact.

That’s being lost on this, or any generation that instead relies totally on an electronic device to convey emotion. I mean, really. 10 seconds for a text? Wow, doesn’t exactly give you goose bumps, does it?

I just don’t think 50 years from now in the assisted living halls you’ll be able to fondly look over that text and sigh.

Okay, I’m old. I admit it. But no one is too young to say thank you.

Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.–Marcel Proust

Losing power. Again.

05/30/2017 / Laura

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.