THE LAST DAY

 I've intended to write more often this month.  Well....good intentions and reality are different animals, right?  But here I am, on the last day of December, the last day of 2023, sitting down in a reflective mood.  

I have a well-documented love/hate relationship with the holidays.  This year is no exception.  I am so over it today.  But looking back on the season, which for me starts on Thanksgiving, I have much to feel grateful for; mostly, seeing so much of my family.  I have been sad that over the past few years (since the Covid Times) that we see each other less frequently than we used to. Covid kept us apart, and lives changed in other ways that I didn't predict. I've tried various strategies to reach out, keep in touch, encourage texts, etc between visits, but it's been met with somewhat less than enthusiastic response.  Adult children and growing grandchildren have other priorities.  I know.  I did too at their ages.  I just thought the "Magic Mom/Grandma" Seeds I planted would make it different for me.  Ha Ha  Nope.  

But when the holidays come 'round, so does everyone else.  Our family love grows in full flower over the holidays.  We gathered for Thanksgiving. A day later we all went to the Christmas Tree Farm together.  A week later most of us were able to attend  one of Granddaughter One's volleyball games (Hub and I went twice/weekly for several weeks -- so much fun to see her play) and out for pizza afterwards to celebrate Son Two's birthday.  Hub and I went to Granddaughter One's school choir Winter concert.  The next day, DIL Aunt and granddaughters met here to make Krumkaka -- passing on a Norwegian tradition from my family and Aunt's.  A little over a week after that all came over to celebrate my birthday (Hello #73!).  Then it was Christmas Eve together with Son One and his family (Son Two and DIL went to California for Christmas with her family.)  Christmas Day Son One and family were back here for more festivities.   Over Christmas break from school, Hub took 8-1/2 y/o Granddaughter Two snowboarding (a season pass and lessons was her big Christmas gift).  I got to spend a day with 14 y/o Granddaughter One going shopping -- and being fully immersed in the consumer life of an early teen. (She spent hours in Bath and Body Works and Old Navy!)  Son Two and DIL got home and we all gathered again for a second Christmas, the whole family together, yesterday.  Many hugs, much laughter, food, games -- sort of Hallmark-y, actually. I treasure all these together times and know that there will be a bit of a dry spell now when I won't see or hear from them so much.  But Granddaughter Two's BD is coming in late February...

So all in all, a good holiday season, amidst my angst about buying paltry gifts this year, barely decorating, letting others bring a lot of the food, getting tired of logistics at times, and lately just wanting all the red and green to go back in the attic.  

I realize that, like with so much else in 2023, I've let go. I've let go of what I used to do to create Christmas and I just let it unfold with lots of help, a quieter presence, a little less stress.  I've been doing this for a few years and even more this year.  It's different and fine, I think.

Tonight Son One and DIL are hosting a big New Year's Eve party.  Son Two and DIL are heading to good friends' house a ways away to celebrate and spend the night.  Hub and I are staying home, pup-sitting the nervous dog who will NOT be pleased with a houseful of revelers at his home.  I will make some zero-proof drinks for us.  Hub will likely pour a beer or a glass of wine for himself also.  We will eat leftovers from yesterday's family get together.  We might watch a movie.  I will try to stay awake until midnight.  If not, Hub will wake me to watch the official Seattle countdown from the Space Needle on TV.  We will head up to our upper floor covered porch, taking in the lights of the city and watching the informal fireworks going off around us.  We will toast the new year, share a kiss, marvel that this will be our 54th NYE together (including dating) and collapse into bed.  I don't feel I'm missing anything at all with this plan.  It is perfect, as it's been for several years now, to stay home and be quiet.  

At least, that's the view from here...© 

Photo Credit:  Daniel Kim/Seattle Times/2021 (New Years at the Space Needle)

A MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY HOLIDAY STORY

'Tis the season for reaching out in kindness, for seeing others as we see ourselves, for finding our common humanity....

Here is an actual and true story of my trip to the grocery store this morning:

I got in the checkout line behind a woman wearing a Washington State Cougars beanie.  (Our younger son went to college there, across the state from where we live, and I alway enjoy seeing others in their Coug gear -- reminds me of my son.  Go Cougs!)  

She turned to me after she scanned the magazines at the check out and said, "I don't understand this Taylor Swift thing.  How did she get to be Person of the Year on TIME?"

"Well", I answered, "she has had a very influential year...."

"Yeah, but it should be someone important!  I guess I'm old.  I'm 68.  But none of our musicians were ever the Person of the Year...maybe the Beatles, I don't recall.  It should be a president or something...but not the current president!"

Uh-Oh.  "Well, I replied, Taylor has a very positive message in her music and has a lot of influence.  I think being positive is a good thing, don't you?"

"Yes, that's why I am so ready to have a different president...the one we had before.  I agree with him.  I agree with everything he says.  I saw him on Hannity and I was so excited.  The way things are now, we can't speak our mind about anything."

"Really?" I replied.  "Like what?"  

"Like anything!  They don't want us to say anything they disagree with.  We can't speak up anymore. We are just supposed to shut up. I watch a lot of news and that's what they are saying."

"I don't think that's true.  I think we still have the freedom to speak about anything we want.  You are doing that right now, here in line at the Safeway.  No one is really stopping you."  

"Well, that's the American way!" She declared.

"Right! And we want to keep it that way, right?" I offered, looking for common ground.

"Yes, but we can't even say Merry Christmas!"

(Here we go...).  

"I don't know about that," I said. "I think you can say Merry Christmas if you want to..."

"No!  We are supposed to say Happy Holidays," she said with an eye roll.

"Well, there are a lot of winter holidays," I countered.  "And it would be a little hard to determine who celebrates what.  Christians might enjoy a Merry Christmas greeting but what about those who are not Christian?  They might want to feel included and respected too."

"Well who's respecting me?"  She was getting heated.  

"Kind of everyone, I think.  Merry Christmas has been around as the standard greeting for a long time.  I'm sure we have never known how our "Merry Christmas" came across to someone who didn't celebrate Christmas.  They just smiled and moved on.  That's being pretty respectful, right? And now we are just trying to be a bit more inclusive."

"Well, I don't know..."  We went silent for a few moments. When her groceries were bagged and paid for she looked at me with a small smile, "It was nice talking to you. Happy Holidays, I guess." She turned her back and walked away.

I called out, "Nice talking to you too.  Merry Christmas!"  She stopped dead in her tracks turned around and smiled again.  We both sort of chuckled.  Detente?

When it was my turn with the cashier, she said, "That was nice."  I replied, "Yes. We made peace.  Or at least it was a polite disagreement."

She offered, "I wish everyone could be nice to each other.  I'm from Minnesota."

"Oh!  Well you are automatically nice then!" I said, referring to the infamous "Minnesota Nice" trait of the state's residents.

"Yes, but we all say Merry Christmas. Everyone. No one says Happy Holidays."  

"Really?" I thought.  But I tried to approach the whole thing again..."But you know that does exclude some people, right?"

"No! I don't exclude anyone!  I also say Happy Hanukkah on the day and Happy Kwanza on Kwanza day..." (I didn't point out those celebrations last longer than one day...)

"Do you really?  That's unusual.  I don't hear that much.  But how do you know if a particular person celebrates those traditions?  Wouldn't it be easier to just lump the December observances into "Happy Holidays" to cover everyone so people don't feel excluded?"

"I suppose, but I don't want to."

And there we have it.  She was, it must be noted, wearing a "Happy Holidays" T-shirt mandated by her employer.  She wears it, but I guess she doesn't want to.

Maybe we should stick to "Go Cougs!" Maybe sports can unite us.  Unless the Cougs are playing the UW Huskies, then it's back to choosing a side...

At least, that's the view from here...©  

Photo Credit: www.pixabay.com

NO CHEF

 

Once, long ago, when shopping in a cavernous new grocery store on the other side of town, I had an infant and a toddler corralled (barely) within a full cart of groceries. The baby was "hangry", so he was wailing away in his carseat plunked in the cart. The toddler was in the child seat thing in the cart, reaching for and grabbing everything he could from the shelves, sending me scrambling to pick up after him or pry some random "treasure" (like a bar of soap or whatever) from his clenched little fist, resulting in a screaming tantrum.  

Grocery shopping on a good day is one of my least favorite activities.  On that day, I'd had enough.  Two-thirds of the way through the store (and my list) I parked the cart of groceries in the middle of the aisle, grabbed the carseat, took the hand of the red-faced toddler, and exited the store.  I couldn't take it one more minute.  This past Monday was sort of like that.  Only it was just me, no kids, but I was still in a state of "I hate this!" mommy-frustration confusion.  

Hub has been working for years with groups addressing climate change.  He is an integral part of one group that meets 1-4 hours weekly on Zoom, organizes and presents at forums and educational events, lobbies for prioritizing climate-related content to their organization's curriculum, co-facilitates several 9-week courses on adaptation and resilience in the face of climate collapse (with strategies for making it all less awful.)  This all takes a great deal of his time and energy and untold hours at the computer.

On top of that, of course, there is life at home:  me (I can be a handful), maintenance of our home and our gardens/property, occasionally seeing friends/family...you know, life stuff.  He is great at keeping all the balls in the air, but he pays a price and eventually feels the stress of it all.  In September he was particularly busy and the stress was boiling over.  I asked what I could do to be supportive.

He has been our family shopper and executive chef for a long time.  I've been his sous chef.  I'm a pretty good chopper and prepper; I am not a great cook.  I don't like it. When those squalling kids were young I did all the shopping and cooking, but over the years I phased myself out and Hub took over, especially once the kids were out and he was retired.  I thought he liked to shop but he recently told me he really doesn't like it, but neither does he dread it, which is an improvement over my feelings about the chore, but still. He does enjoy cooking but the every day grind of it gets old.  (I know.)  So, to be more helpful, I offered to take on the shopping and cooking indefinitely.  Yikes!

I have a list of every dinner since my start date on September 23rd.  I keep this list as an "attagirl" I give myself every time I look at it.  I feel a sense of accomplishment.  Maybe even a bit of pride.  I've not made anything fancy -- I'm not foodie gourmet.  But I've hauled out some old cookbooks and done Google searches for various things.  I've made entirely edible, even tasty dishes that we've both enjoyed.  I have not hated it.  But there is that daily grind.

On Monday I didn't have time to create my menus for the coming week, but I had to get some things from the store, so I went with a list of a few staples, and a few speciality items for two cookbook recipes. Unfortunately, I hadn't done a good inventory and didn't have a meal planned for every day.  I am a grab and go shopper, and I am NOT an intuitive cook, so I found myself without a recipe to buy for and with no desire/ability to create meals based on what I found at the store, so I found myself frustrated, going up and down aisles with no clue what I needed or wanted, and ended up with a cart of random items that seemed paltry but also ended up costing nearly $100 somehow.  

I went to the self-check. (I know I'm supposed to boycott that, but if the other line is forever long, I don't boycott it because I just want to get out of the damn store!)  I fumbled around with looking up produce items, weighing them, scanning the unscannable bar codes, putting up with the machine yelling at me to put my items in the bag when they were already in the damn bag, and then got reprimanded for trying to buy non-alcohol beer for Hub (it's store policy) with an expired license, that wasn't really expired but the DMV had punched a hole in it when I went in to renew it, making it void.  I was supposed to have brought some print out of a temporary license with me.  Duh.  By the time I got out of there I was near tears.  But I pulled up my big girl panties and headed to Costco for the items I needed there.  I survived, barely.

When I got home, Hub was sympathetic and appreciative.  Maybe 8 weeks is my limit; maybe it's about as "indefinitely" as I get when it comes to shopping and cooking.  We discussed a plan to share the burden. It might even be fun, we thought, to shop and cook together!  (Cooking maybe; shopping definitely not.  We have extremely different shopping styles.  As noted, I'm grab and go for just what I need in the moment.  Hub is the complete opposite -- he's price and compare, distracted by impulse buys, and likes to "stock up".)

So I'm not sure how the new plan will go.  I do know that it won't really be implemented for awhile, because Hub still has a lot on his plate. (HAHA  Good one!)  Maybe it will be a New Year intention.  Until then I'll keep my dinner list going to motivate me and I'll try super hard not to freak out in the grocery store.  I'd hate to start throwing canned goods.

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit:  somewhere on the internet..sorry, don't know; don't sue me. 🙏🏽

RANDOM THOUGHTS ON RANDOM SUBJECTS

The Muse showed up in September, then abandoned me in October.  In fact all of October flew by in such a rush I barely remember it.  But this being the last day, I decided to sit down and force something onto the page so that I can say I've never missed at least posting once a month since I started this blog.  So here we are with a few things on my mind.

HALLOWEEN:  When my boys were young this was my favorite holiday.  I went all out!  What's not to like?  It's basically a one day holiday; doesn't involve making a meal or having an obligatory gathering of family and/or friends; the decorations are fun and creative; you get to dress up as your alter-ego; AND you get to eat boatloads of candy that people just hand out for free!  

But this year I'm sort of taking a pass.  I usually decorate for Autumn in September, haul out the Halloween decor in October, put that away and get some turkey stuff out for November, then put it all away to start throwing red and green around the house in December.  This year I got out minimal Autumn decor and zero Halloween stuff.  I was going to go dark tonight, but I've now decided to hand out granola bars to the few kids who will come to my door.  Every year it's fewer and fewer and I don't know any of them.  Our neighborhood attracts families from other areas, so cars drive up, drop off their trick or treaters who plunder the 'hood and take off again.  I don't mind, but I don't know any of the kids, which makes it a little less fun.  So, we will see how it goes.  I'm mostly happy for my grandkids who are looking forward to their own Halloween fun in their neighborhood.

TRAVEL:  Do you watch PBS, especially anything Masterpiece?  Then you've seen the Viking River Cruise commercials.  We signed up for one leaving next spring -- the Grand European Tour from Amsterdam to Budapest.  Friends have raved about it.  Viking caters to the traveler's every whim, you feel pampered, see lots of cool stuff, and make friends for life.  Uh-huh.  Well, we spent one entire day on their website and on the telephone making our flight and excursion arrangements with Viking and let me just say, it was not seamless nor particularly easy.   However,  the Viking travel coordinator couldn't have been more accommodating.  It was just complicated. Maybe I'll do a whole post on that one day.  For now I am putting it out of my mind.

We took a less high stakes trip to San Diego last week.  A 5-day getaway as our rainy season here in the Pacific Northwest gets underway.  It was 72 and and sunny in SD, as advertised.  As always.  I don't think I'd get bored with that.  We did touristy things -- walked and walked as we always do and saw the main downtown/waterfront sights.  We did a trolly trip out to Coronado Island and walked on the beach.  We visited a Dia De Los Muertos celebration Old Town.  And saw more unfortunate un-homed people living on the street than my heart could tolerate.  

I will confess to a mixture of feelings -- great sympathy and curiosity about how so many lives became so desperate and sad.  Also, a feeling of guilt at my revulsion over the filth and smell of unwashed bodies and urine soaked sidewalks.  Also, frustration and helplessness over the intractable nature of addressing and solving this problem through policy, politics, and do-gooderism.  No matter which direction we headed from our hotel, we walked past individuals curled up in doorways and small tent cities under viaducts.  I mostly felt safe enough, but with the 'streetwise' caution of not really knowing if/when someone on drugs or with mental health issues might do something unexpected and threatening.  This is the reality of cities large and small to one degree or another.  It's sad.

FRIENDS:  Yesterday, just a week shy of our 6th anniversary, I and a group of my friends (who call ourselves the Coffeehouse Crew) had a rare in-person meet-up at a local restaurant.  Ten of of gathered around a big table and delighted in seeing whole live bodies after years now of meeting primarily on Zoom.  Before Covid we met monthly at a different coffeeshop each time.  Then Covid hit and many were feeling isolated, so we decided to meet weekly on Zoom.  We've continued to do this since we are also geographically spread out and some of us like to be in our jammies all day.  LOL  But we've decided that meeting in person occasionally would be great too so we will do that every so often, along with our Zoom gatherings.

I realized how much I've missed seeing those women in person.  I realize how infrequently I see anyone in person.  My introverted nature was delighted with the Covid lockdown.  No more forced socializing!  I kept up all my connections through FB, this blog, emails, cards, texts, Messenger....but my in-person interactions took a nosedive and has remained so even now.  I go out.  I do things.  I meet  friends for coffee or lunch now and again, but Hub and I rarely go to someone's home or have people over other than family.  It's so different from how it was in the "before times".  I'm realizing I've settled into a new way of being and I am discerning what that means and how that feels to me.  What I notice is that I'm good for about 90 minutes of social interaction, then I'm sort of exhausted.   I will have to work back up to full speed!  

GRATITUDE:  It's been a year since my right hip started to bug me.  I went to Physical Therapy early this year and that helped.  Then I signed up with a personal trainer in the spring and that helped too.  But this fall it has gotten worse, to the point where some days I can barely limp across the room.  (And other days, like on vacation last week, I walked 5-6 miles a day!)  So I'm going back to PT.  This has been such a humbling experience.  I've prided myself on my fitness and lack of chronic conditions that limit me.  I have greater empathy for how something can develop that can slow or stop you in your tracks and the cascading effects of that, both physically and emotionally.  I've gained weight since I've not been able to exercise and walk as much.  I've been in tears of frustration over feeling limitations in movement -- even simply going up a flight of stairs.  I'm less confident in my ability to do certain activities.  It sucks.  

AND I do not have anything life-threatening.  I do not have arthritis or joint deterioration.  This is all due to my scoliosis and a lifetime of compensation for spine curvature which has caused my muscles and supporting tendons, etc to tighten up and "hold on".  I need to do a lot of work to loosen and soothe, build strength, and hopefully find a way to live with this without pain or limitation.  And I have a great team of professionals who know how to help me -- doctor, physical therapist, trainer, yoga therapist.  So I'm humbled but grateful.  And grateful for having developed a desire to persevere.  I might feel like giving up in many areas of my life, but I don't.  Eventually I just find a way, a path, a guide, and I keep on.  Don't we all?

At least, that's the view from here...©

SAVE THE WORLD? NAH....

My "resolution" for this year was to STOP.   

I decided to stop trying to be or do anything particularly noteworthy.  Stop hoping for anything that is not happening.  In fact, I've banished "hope" from my vocabulary and emotional life.  Instead of saying "I hope..." this or that, I try to remember to say instead, "It would be nice if..."  I can hope all I want; that's not gonna make anything end up differently than how it will.  Hope feels like a wished for outcome without any real control over its realization.  

But just because I've given up on the word "hope", that doesn't mean I don't care.  Yet, sometimes I feel a wee bit like a slacker when I choose not to engage in various activities, events, conversations, commitments.  But it's getting easier the more I check in with myself and honor the answer that is already there.  Mostly that answer is: "No; not now."

I've spent most of my adult life saying "yes" to a zillion commitments.  Not only those that come to me from "outside" -- being asked to serve on a committee or join a group/organization or host a holiday gathering or go to a party. But also those that have come from within -- creating and facilitating any number groups, activities, and events that didn't exist before I imagined them into being and made them happen.

I don't regret most of those years of non-stop organizing and facilitating and working for various causes (both internal and external), but I do wish I had a some of that time back -- especially the time that ended up being compulsively perfectionistic, unwelcome, or ultimately meaningless.  I wish I had been more aware during the times I was over-calendared, stressed out, exhausted, and couldn't say "no", allowing one thing to snowball into the next.  I wish I had  been more aware of the toll it was taking on my mental and physical health and probably on my relationships.  I wish I'd taken longer breaks between one thing ending and another beginning.  

I think that might be what I'm doing now.  Or maybe it will always be like this year has been going forward.  I've continued to address my own internal life, some relationship stuff with Hub, my family and friends, but with less urgency, less desperation, less "hope".  I'm finally seeing clearly how things are.  I don't have to like it.  I do have to decide if I can live with it.  So far I can.  And with that I am more content...or getting there anyway.

As for worldly concerns, I've taken an enormous step back.  I unsubscribed to most political and non-profit outreaches.  I reluctantly turn on the nightly news -- but now the 30 minute version on network TV, not 2 hours of cable outrage political commentary every night (OK, just Monday night for my one weekly hour with Rachel Maddow, who is brilliant, funny, not outrageous, and does not yell.)  I still read the newspaper and various periodicals, but not religiously.  And yet, I still do great on the New York Times Friday News Quiz! Yay, me!  I'm not ignoring the world.  But I avoid a lot of the vitriol.  

And I'm not raising my hand to volunteer for much of anything.  The whole idea of "getting involved" sort of feels like a sucker punch to my gut.  There is a sense of pre-commitment angst just thinking about it.  I think this is maybe a PTSD reaction or an indicator of burn-out.  I just can't seem to motivate myself to be the old me.

I watch others step into action and feel some guilt.  My local Indivisible group is incredibly politically active, working for issues and candidates I support.  I know it's held together by the hard, tireless work of a few strong, amazing women.  In a former life I would have been one of them.  Now I support them financially, write postcards to local voters, go to the occasional rally -- not nearly enough support for them.  But the thought of being more involved makes me feel a sense of dread.

I watch in my own home as Hub is immersed, as he's been for more than 5 years now, in work around educating and organizing groups to address the climate crisis.  I have resented his hours of devotion to various commitments around that issue over recent years.  It seems to consume him at times.  This year I realized this will not change.  It has been the same with other "causes" over the years, even when we both were over-committed.  I changed my priorities, but he didn't in that regard.  So I have to change my perspective.  I tell myself, "He works part time/half-time." His payment isn't monetary, but it is obviously rewarding for him to be engaged in this way or he wouldn't do it.  I think of it as his job now and the hours he spends in various in-person or Zoom meetings, at the computer, on the phone talking or texting, or with email, each happening at all hours of day/evening/weekends as the need arises, are how he does his work.  His commitment is commendable and his work important.  I'm glad it's not me.

So, how do I occupy my time?   

• I'm not planning, striving, hoping, working, engaged in conflict, or losing sleep.  I don't have a calendar that rules my life; nothing is there that can't be changed or cancelled for reasons large and small.  
• I am more home and garden focused, seeking to do satisfying tasks, even the unpleasant ones, that contribute to surrounding myself with beauty and comfort.  
• I stare out my big windows appreciating my great view of the city, water, mountains and the changing sky.  
• I've befriended the neighborhood cat and love sitting with him on my porch when he visits.  
• I try to see my youngest granddaughter (8) when I can: she still thinks I'm great and fun to be with so I have to take full advantage of that while it lasts.  She's my last admirer in the family.  LOL
• I see a few treasured friends.  
• I am reading for pleasure, having re-discovered fiction, especially woman-centered novels that are not sad or terrifying.  (English mysteries are nice.)  
• I am taking care of my growing-older body, which demands more time than one would imagine -- yoga asana practice, walking, weight training, nutrition, weight loss/maintenance, flossing. LOL  
• I take some occasional solo trips and am planning some big ones with Hub for next year.  
• I am re-learning needle crafts: sewing, embroidery, and my usual crochet.  
• I write this blog.  
• I teach some online yoga philosophy and general encouragement to meditate and move.  
• I scroll Facebook.  
• I watch TV shows -- lots and lots of cooking/travel/nature shows, fun comedies,  drama that isn't based on sadness and terror. (Thanks PBS).   
• I also watch football--Go Hawks!  (We all have our inconsistencies.  LOL)

All of that sounds like the very epitome of a woman I would have previously judged unengaged, lazy,  unmotivated, privileged, maybe stupid, definitely "old".  Uh-huh.  I am privileged.  I know that.  As for the rest?  Not so much.  I feel more alive and aware than at any other time in my life.  And I've stopped feeling badly about feeling contented most of the time.  I have devoted most of my adult life to efforts to effect change in the public square.  Right now I need to just stay home, do what I can -- but not more than I can stand.  I use my privilege to try to support those who are out there fighting the good fight.  I'm learning that others will do as they do for as long as it serves them to do it.  Then the baton is passed.  I've passed the baton for now.  

But 2024 is coming....who knows what next year will bring?  

At least, that's the view from here...©

OLDER PERSON CRAWLING

No matter our age, we are all getting older.  So I don't put much stock in "old people".  Unless you are a newborn, everyone is older than someone.  And I absolutely reject the stereotypes of aging.   It's wrong, inaccurate, discriminatory, and keeps us all in judgement and fear.

That said, I absolutely do realize that there are different capabilities at different ages and stages.  I couldn't crawl before it was time.  And now I realize it is far past time to be crawling.  LOL

This past week we decided to tackle painting two small (11 x 13) bedrooms.  Painting always sounds easy.  Looks easy on the ads.  Isn't easy.  There is So. Much. Prep. Removing wall art, fixtures, taping off woodwork, patching and sanding nail holes, shoving and carrying large heavy pieces of furniture that end up part of the living room and hallway "decor" for the duration...  You know.  You've been there.  

We got the painting finished (looks great!) and decided, "Well, the rooms are empty.  Let's remove this old carpeting now rather than 'later' as planned".  So together, over the next two days, we got to work ripping up two rooms of wall to wall carpet, and pad, and CRAWLING ON THE FLOORS with crowbar and hammer pulling up the carpet tack strips nailed to the perimeter of all the walls ("we" meaning Hub), and CRAWLING ON THE FLOORS some more to remove about 500 staples that held the pads in place ("we" meaning me).  I believe the guy who manned the staple gun is no longer employed -- cost overruns on staples!  Then we lugged it all out to the pick-up truck for a dump run.  ("we" meaning Hub.)  

Once the pad was up we noticed splotches of dark red gooey stuff that had leached from the pad onto the hardwood floors beneath.  "We" (meaning me) CRAWLED OVER THE FLOORS AGAIN, with a putty knife trying to remove the goop.  Didn't work great and it left a stain making the floors look like they had a very aggressive case of measles.  I tried various stain removing products.  None worked. Hub tried to steam clean the stains to no avail.

So, we now have a guy coming out Monday to give us an estimate on refinishing the floors, as well as doing some other hardwood work in other areas that has been on hold for 'someday' for a long time.  One thing leads to another...and if we go forward there will be even more of the above to do soon.  Ugh!

What this project has led to for me is humility.  I've worked hard to stay in pretty good shape physically.  But the first night after working on the floors I was miserable.  My usual cocktail of Ibuprofen and Tylenol was no match for the aches, pains, and stiffness I experienced.  My hip that has been giving me fits for nearly a year was screaming at me, as I hobbled around the house.  My knee was aching with the occasional breath-taking shooting pain.  My hands were bandaged and sore.

I had tried to avoid this.  I had tried doing the job on hands and knees on my garden pad (ouch on the knees anyway), then sitting cross-legged bending forward (ouch on the hip and back), then sitting on my bottom with legs splayed spread-eagled before me, also bending forward (ouch again on the back).  There was just no good way to tackle this on-the-floor project without my body protesting.  I got a blister in the palm of my hand from prying staples with a flat-head screwdriver and pulling them from the wood with needle-nosed pliers.  Thankfully I thought to put in earplugs when Hub was pounding the crowbar with the hammer to get the tack strips up -- protecting as best I could from making my diagnosed "mild to moderate" hearing loss worse.

We reminisced about how many times we've done this exact same thing in this home over the last 40 years in every room that originally had carpet.  And in our previous home.  And in the one before that.  But I don't recall being so physically uncomfortable as a result.  So, ages and stages.  It's real.

Still, I am grateful for a body that could do the job at all.  And the next day it went easier.  I'm still babying my hip, but that's been bugging me for awhile and at this point I have to take some responsibility for ignoring my training program for addressing it.  Wake-up call.  Do nothing...get no results.

As we grow older our expectations for what can and cannot be done must change.  We must be able to adapt and adjust.  I get that.  I really do get that.  And I actually find it a relief.  Painting, yes, a hassle but not very physically demanding.  Doable.  Crawling on the floor removing carpet/pad/nails/staples.  Doable, but not pleasant.  I've got maybe one more floor left in me. Maybe two, tops, if I have to.  Then I think I'll mark that chore off the "to do" list and put it on the "never again" list.   I'm not sure when I'll be incapable of  some of the things I do now, but by then I'll still be capable of so many other things!  And I'm grateful for that too.  Onward!  (But hopefully not on hands and knees.)

At least, that's the view from here...©

"NATURE RETREAT"

I woke up in the middle of the night a week ago Friday with a feeling of vertigo.  I ignored it, but the next day it hung in there with a headache attached.  Uh-oh.  Another migraine.  

I struggled through Saturday, then Sunday we left for a 4 day/3 night camping trip.  I felt icky.  I went anyway.  We'd already had to postpone it a couple of times for scheduling reasons.  Plus, I only go on one or two camper trips a season and this would be the  first for me.  (Fourth for Hub.)

It's well established that I don't love camping.  But I do love some natural settings and Mt. Rainier is one of them I love the most.  So I go there.  This time I decided to try something new.  I hung the moniker "Nature Retreat" on the trip, instead of "camping".  And I created an agenda of events that were not specifically tied to camping, but were tied to time in nature in some ways.  I decided this would make the whole trip more novel and creative.  I'm not sure I was entirely successful.  But it did have different elements and more intentionality.

Here is my Nature Retreat agenda.  We didn't stick to it religiously; some items were constant, some occasional, some didn't work at all.  But it helped set an intention and helped guide us in new ways.

Sunday:  Arrive, Read Nature Poem, Set Intention for Retreat, Snack/Explore, Create table centerpiece of natural objects, N/A drink, Finger Painting, Dinner, Fire, Sharing Gratitude

Monday: Qigong, Read Nature Poem, Set Intention for the Day, Senses Meditation, Hike (part in silence), Yoga stretch, N/A drink, Dinner, Fire, Sharing Gratitude

Tuesday: Qigong, Nature Poem, Set Intention for the Day, Senses Meditation, Choose animal/object name, Hike (keeping in mind the animal/object energy), Yoga stretch, N/A drink, Dinner, Sensory Exploration, Sharing Gratitude

Wednesday: Qigong, Lovingkindness Meditation, Depart

Lowlights for me:  

That damn headache that caused me to feel nauseated.  It lasted the entire week! I felt "off-balance" the whole time, like I was walking the deck of a ship that was rocking on swells.  I was grateful for my hiking poles which saved me from tipping over dozens of times.  I kept listing to the right like an errant grocery cart.  (Crossing a stream by balancing on half-submerged rocks and a log was particularly challenging.)  I want bonus points for being such a trooper.

The bear.  That morning we had drawn from a bowl of names of various animals to keep that animal's "energy" in mind as we hiked in silence for a bit. We also drew inanimate objects.  Hub drew "bear" and "stream".  I drew "eagle" and "log".  

He was a little disappointed in "bear", feeling he's never had much affinity or connection to hears.  But he decided to try to conjure up "bear energy" anyway. I know some people delight in the thrill of seeing wild animals in the forest.  I prefer foliage.  

About a mile from the end of our hike, Hub spied the black bear about 50 yards off the trail, hunting for berries.  He alerted me.  I caught a glimpse of it just as it raised its head to look directly at us.  We stood still, then slowly moved forward as it went back to its berry hunting.  I wanted to run.  I didn't.  But I recalled something about making noise so I started talking really loudly.  And walking with some determination away from it.  I was in a bit of a panic.  I realize I am more at risk for harm from gun violence in my own city on any given day, but all I could think of was the "Couple Mauled on Wonderland Trail" headline.  I was happy to get way past it and more happy to get out of the forest into the open and back to the campground.  I never saw my eagle, but Hub drawing bear energy to us was enough of a "thrill".  (Be careful what you ask for!)

Highlights for me:

Breathtaking views of the mountain.  Hikes that were moderate in difficulty and beautiful.  Hub being so incredibly kind, patient, and supportive of me and my impaired abilities due to dizziness and feeling crappy.  Hub taking care of all the cooking and logistics.  Our exploration of the senses:  I had packed a container of various "nature" items to "tickle" the senses.  I blindfolded Hub and ran various textures over his skin, offered him various things to smell, fed him various items to taste, to go with the sights and sounds we had already experienced earlier.  It was great fun and helped to create a mindfulness meditation on senses we so often take for granted.

At the end of our trip I was very ready to be home  I thought we'd pack and go.  But Hub suggested another hike, a snack at the river, a late lunch at a look-out perch to take in the mountain one last time.  (Read previous post for the difference in me -- "let's go home" and him -- "let's stay longer". )  In spite of my initial impatience I was glad we stayed.  The last hike was my favorite of the trip.  

We had reservations for one more camper outing this week, but it has been cancelled by the National Parks due to fire/smoke danger in the North Cascades.  I can't say that I am very disappointed.  I can call it a "Nature Retreat" all I want...it's still camping.  And once a year is enough for me.  Still, we live in a beautiful place where these "bucket list" destinations are within a couple hours' drive for us.  I am grateful for that.  I can easily go when I want to and Hub is happy to have me come along, even when I'm in less than stellar condition.

At least, that's the view from here...©

MIGHT BE DYING -- TO A NEW PLACE

I don't think I'm depressed.  I know that condition intimately.  This doesn't really feel like that.  This feels different, but has some of the same characteristics, primarily not being very interested in things that used to consume me, like near-obsessive personal and relationship-related personal growth work, political outrage, pining after connections and relationships that just don't work anymore in the way they used to or that I had hoped.  I'm also almost desperate to get rid of things.  I look around and poke through storage areas and mostly I just don't care.  Let it go.  Let it all go.

This has all come up before, but I've struggled with it.  Now it doesn't feel like a struggle.  It just is.  I do wonder if this might mean I'm dying.  They say the task of my age and stage is to let go and welcome the final journey with equanimity and curiosity.  I'm not quite that far along!  I just want to do a deep clean of the attic! And stop whining because my kids don't call me.  And stop wishing Hub and I were more alike in some major areas.  None of that will change.  Letting it go.

Here's an example of that last thing:  Hub likes to go away on solo trips -- mostly camping and doing challenging long hikes and kayak paddles or his passion, snowboarding.  I like to stay home, but often feel lonely.  I finally figured it out.  His family of origin story was needing, at a very young age, to prove to himself that he could take care of himself and didn't need anyone.  Independence and competence were primary to him and made him feel safe.  Our "core wounds" play out in many ways throughout our lives.  One way for him is that he goes off alone on physically demanding trips to remind him of that  sense of safety.  As for me, my family of origin story was one of never feeling "seen" or understood, not being able to trust people to be there for me in important ways.  So I am on a lifelong quest for connection, reveling in meaningful relationships with people I can trust, creating spaces (my home, facilitating groups) that are welcoming and nurturing.  That is my safe place.  I strive for this, driving myself crazy with trying so damn hard to find my safety with other people (who so often don't/can't ever meet that core need in me.)  You can see where Hub and I could be at odds, right?

Where I get into trouble is creating a reality that is mine and assuming it is everyone's.  I caught myself today and was able to let it go.  This is a HUGE thing!  

Hub is away camping, Day 4.  I am home doing grandkid childcare.  I assumed he would get up at his usual leisurely pace, pack up, and drive the hour home, arriving early afternoon, having had a great time the past 3 days/nights, ready to be back at home, to see me, and for sure to see our granddaughter for awhile.  That was a "reality" that would work for me. Not him.  He texted me at 11:30 and said he was packed and ready but planned to go on another hike, maybe another kayak outing, and would be home at "dinnertime" (a vague ETA).  His priority was squeezing a few more hours of adventure and alone time out of his last day away.  In the not distant past (last week --- haha) I would have been sad, resentful, even angry.  Today I was momentarily taken aback, then just chuckled at myself.  Of course I was seeing his priorities of away/alone/adventure through mine of home/connection/relationships.  We are different.  Not gonna change.

What does any of this have to do with feeling like I might be dying?  Because in letting go of my old stories, my old preoccupations, my old possessions, my old determinations to change the unchangeable, it feels like I am making space for something new.  I have no idea what that is.  I have no visions, fantasies, dreams, or desires other than to get super quiet, live in each moment as best I can, seek ways to find meaningful connections that have no assumptions or strings attached, become my own priority, and see what happens. 

 Maybe that's some definition of Heaven...we'll see.

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit: www.pixabay.com

 

A ROOM OF ONE'S OWN

When I read A Room of One's Own, by Virginia Woolf way back in the first college course I ever took (Women in Literature, taught by the woman who first introduced me to feminism in the early 1970s) I was captivated.  A woman could have her own space?  To create whatever she wanted?  To think, write, "be" without intrusion, interruption, or obligation elsewhere?

It seemed like a dream, or a fiction.  Nothing in my life had prepared me to even consider this as "real" in any woman's life.  Certainly not mine.  

The influence of this teacher and my many new college friends, as well as the progressive urban culture where I lived in the early 1970s, helped me know I was a feminist and likely always had been.  It was the explanation for my inner rebellion against patriarchal social, political, and economic systems.  But it didn't transfer completely to my own inter-personal relationships.  

My role model was my mom, of course, who I've come to appreciate as one of the most creative, independent, strongest woman I have ever known.  But all of that had to be observed through the filter of a woman of her times who used those talents to toil tirelessly for her  home and family, who served her husband's needs first and always, only later in life finally pursuing a long-delayed career, but not the one she'd dreamed of as a teenager -- so far out of reach as to be a fantasy.  She described herself as "timid"-- her word -- when she was younger and that her career helped her be more confident. Now I know that "timid" meant she was an introvert and highly sensitive because that's me too, via both nature and nurture.  She took her skills and talents for granted and never touted them in any way.  And she certainly never, ever had a room of her own -- literally or figuratively.  In my early feminist years (and too far beyond) I judged her as hopelessly traditional and "lost" to "the patriarchal system".  Oh my! The ignorance of youthful arrogance!  Now I see that in some ways my own life has mirrored hers, feminist or not.  (Another blog post, perhaps?)

Anyway, lately I've been intentional about exploring  the idea of inhabiting separate space.  In my  marriage there has been a value of assumed "togetherness" and that has created a pattern that is both a source of pride and a source of conflict.  

Like my mother before me, I am most happy when I am close to home, family, and friends in familiar, safe surroundings.  I'm not an intrepid explorer of the outside world; I don't long to be on the move; I don't seek the thrill of danger and adventure; I don't crave large swaths of time alone in the world (although once in a while it's nice).  So, my life could be described by some as small, boring, dependent upon others, even timid. 

 (Contact me for chapter and verse for all the ways that judgement couldn't be further from the truth, even if most of my courage has manifested on the inside, not evidenced on the outside in traditional ways.  I'll go toe-to-toe on "challenge, courage, and confidence" with anyone!)

Hub, on the other hand, absolutely shares my love of family and connection and loves our home.  But he also needs/wants time alone -- unstructured amounts of time to de-stress and relax, but also to flex his physical, adventure, and problem-solving muscles.  He sometimes likes feeling totally alone and independent, not needing to take others into consideration in plans and decisions.

We have been talking lately about how in the past decade (approximately since he semi-, then completely retired, but before that too) it seems he has been away frequently on various adventures -- mostly snowboarding trips and camping/hiking/kayaking trips, but also two 3-week trips traveling to India and Nepal, as well as a number of weekend retreats with his men's groups.  When I added it up (because I keep all my old paper calendars) he has been away an average of 4 weeks a year for the past 10 years.  (Not counting those two 3 week trips, because they were not typical).  I added up my away time for the same timeframe: 1/2 week per year on average (not counting my own  9-day Maui trip with friends while he was in Nepal, because that too was not typical).   There is a discrepancy, yes?  

It seems that for him to get his alone time, he has to leave home...because I never do. LOL  I wondered why.  I questioned my "stay at home" nature and wondered if it was because I was afraid to challenge my "comfort zone".  I decided to take a solo trip almost every month this year, to experiment with greater aloneness in the world and also to give Hub some alone time at home, which he says he has enjoyed.

But I'm not sure it's working for me.  I've discovered that being alone in a city, a town, in nature, in a hotel room, at a B&B, navigating the route, deciding what to see, where to go, what to eat, how to spend my time can be stressful and actually not that enjoyable.  I much prefer to share a novel travel experience with a compatible travel companion, whether it be Hub or someone else I want to hang with, as we explore together, creating a shared experience and having stories to tell for years afterwards.  Sure there are places I want to go and plan to go alone (next weekend for example), but for the most part that would not be my choice. 

Consequently, Hub and I have a "predicament" -- we have an unsolvable problem.  Hub should be able to have some time at home alone and I need to not feel I have to leave, wandering alone in the wilderness (haha), to give him space for this.  He has NOT asked this of me (for me to go away), but for years I have felt resentful of his trips and also realize that since I'm always here, he can't find his alone time at home.  I have felt like an obstacle to an important part of his life.  My solo trips have been a recent  attempt to solve this problem.  However...

I've learned (I'm a slow learner) that some problems can't be solved.  He won't change and neither will I on this issue.  We are who we are.  We need to be resilient.  We need to find an adaptation. This has all been an issue for far too long.  I need to stop feeling sad and pissed and he judged and frustrated.  That's no fun for anyone. 

So, last week I proposed that we establish a "personal retreat" when we are at home together.  One night a week we will spend an evening/night apart in our own home.  After an early dinner, we will go our separate ways.  I know some couples have done this for years; not us.  We have always planned our evenings together and have rarely slept apart -- except for after a couple of bad arguments. LOL

Fortunately we have not downsized and still have a big house which allows plenty of personal space once we agree on who's going to stay where on our weekly "retreat" nights.  For now, Hub will have our upstairs bedroom/bathroom/porch and main floor office.  I will have the downstairs TV room, my yoga room, and the main floor bathroom/guest room.  We might accidentally pass in the kitchen getting a snack, but we will try not to.  Apart is apart.  My plan is that we not see, talk to, or interact in any way for the evening and overnight until the next morning. (No texting either!)

Which brings me to getting my own room.  I feel like a teenager who has had to share a bedroom and now gets her own!  I'm taking over the guest room.  It's a comfortable enough space, but it feels impersonal to me.  It just sits there at the end of the hall, slightly musty-smelling because it has no life.  There are weeks when no one even goes in there except for our cleaners who dust and vacuum an unused room.  

I am pouring over Pintrest and Wayfair sites for decorating ideas.  I think I'm going BoHo!  Why not?  It's not the whole house and I find the whole BoHo thing fun and uplifting.  I've been to Home Depot twice grabbing paint samples.  We had planned to remove the wall-to-wall carpeting in there soon anyway; might as well paint over the deep dark forest green that's been on the walls forever and lighten things up.  I wish the bed and dresser were not dark wood, but I can live with that since I'm not willing to spend big bucks on new furniture.  Otherwise, I'm on the hunt for furnishings and decor that will enliven the space and reflect a part of me in my own room !

I'm moving some clothing and toiletries downstairs from our shared bedroom space and taking up new space for me that has not been inhabited since the kids left home.  My room will evolve over time, but the "retreat" plan starts next week.  This might not feel like a big deal to some, but it is a real challenge to our 51-year marriage pattern of cohabitation.  I think we are both curious/excited/hopeful.  

It also might be a disaster.  I'll keep you posted.

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit: Wayfair ad. (Just an idea... 😁)

PART 2: I DON'T DRINK ALCOHOL (AND I'M HAPPY)

I wrote the previous post earlier today.  Now, later today, I'm getting to the second part of reflecting on my sobriety on this my 12th anniversary of ditching alcohol from my life.

It's absolutely the best thing I've ever done.  I didn't realize until I quit how alcohol had become a big part of my life and how I was using it in detrimental ways.  

I had a health scare 12 years ago.  I saw a bunch of doctors and had a bunch of tests.  No one could find a cause.  So of course I went online.  I found others who'd had similar issues and in a couple of the comments people posited that alcohol might make it worse.  A-ha!  At last something I could do to try to prevent any further episodes.  I could quit drinking.  Running this by my doctors, NONE of them said alcohol had anything to do with what ailed me.  But what did they know?  My friends on the worldwide web had given me the answer -- or at least some action to take.

I soon realized I felt better in several ways.  On occasions when alcohol flowed at a social event or Happy Hour, I never again worried about drinking and driving.  I never again over-indulged or had a hangover or embarrassed myself with some inappropriate comment.  I never again got alcohol-fueled angry or maudlin or overly sensitive to some random remark. 

And on any given Wednesday or Monday or any other day, 5:00 would come and go with no significance. Nothing "triggered" the desire for a drink -- not a social event, not a sporting event, not a holiday, not a celebration, not a disappointment or grief, nor any particular type of food.  I was always absolutely sure that my thinking was clear-headed and any mistakes I might make were honest ones, not ones caused by alcohol.  I didn't fall asleep too early, or wake in the middle of the night feeling gross, or sleep too late in the morning.  I wasn't foggy or groggy.  I wasn't constantly wondering about my alcohol use and whether it was OK.  

I became more myself and less a person trying to "cover" with alcohol -- trying to be more fun, more adventurous, more sexy, more outgoing, more relaxed, less stressed, more connected, a better friend, a ready-for-anything wife, a cool mom.

The myself I've come to know is of course all those things!  LOL  But I didn't believe it then.  I had to learn that without alcohol, I am that person authentically.  And sometimes I'm not any of those, or few of those, and none of it hinges on a drink to make it so again.  It is just life and me in it, accepting who I am in every moment.  And learning that seeing others for who they truly are as well makes for connections more honest and valued.  Or for seeing that some connections were not real after all.  If a Happy Hour companion is more important than alcohol-free me, well, buh-bye.

All of this has been gradual.  My values around substance use (of any kind) eventually solidified around my devotion to my yoga practice.  The yoga sutras call us to a substance-free life.  I am committed to that.  But it has been lonely.  Without the desire to go the AA route, I had no support from others who had also given up drinking.  I'd meet people here and there, but no one really talked about their story and it seemed rude to ask.  And I realized that when I talked about being a non-drinker there was an assumption of me as an alcoholic, which I may well be, but I didn't feel the AA world was for me.  I had no physical withdrawal symptoms.  I barely thought about drinking again once I quit.  So it seemed too easy for me, such that I didn't "fit" with those struggling and going to meetings.  (I might be wrong about this, but I don't know since I never went.)  Anyway, I've felt very alone with my journey and often misunderstood.

Then in January of this year I went on a solo trip to the ocean and reconnected with a woman I've known for years, who I knew had quit drinking and she introduced me to her friend, also a former drinker.  We spent a couple of days together getting caught up, visiting a gallery, doing some art together, and talking about our gratitude for being substance free.  It was the very first time I'd spend any time at all with people like me, people who were not in AA, but absolutely committed to sobriety.  My new friend recommended a couple of books (photos) and I devoured them when I got home and felt even more support from those authors.  I had no idea I could feel so held and supported and loved in this.  I will be forever grateful for my time with these two women and our ongoing friendship.

Since then I've been much more vocal and have set some firm boundaries around alcohol.  Thus, accusations of being "strident".  And maybe to some I come across as a Temperance Era prude.  (By the way, women fought for temperance and other rights for women mostly so their husbands wouldn't be able to drink, get drunk, and keep beating them up.)  But I get that alcohol is here to stay and 99% of the people I know drink and enjoy it.  I'm not marching off into an isolated self-righteousness.  But I do feel I've been given the gift of a lifetime in letting go of this habit, this desire, this social crutch.  I feel liberated.  

And I hope others will join me, like the young woman I heard from today who told me she has been "mostly" not drinking for 7 months, a few sips here and there, but less than once/month, which is a good start for someone young and fun and totally part of an active drinking culture of family and friends, much like anyone else's. She said she is so happy, learning so much about herself, seeing friendships more clearly.  "This is so much better!" she declared.  I am happy for her.  I know what she means.  I wish her the freedom I've found.

At least, that's the view from here...©

P.S. I'm on a mission to find/make/buy mixed drinks without alcohol in them that are crafted just for that reason -- not some "virgin" version of an alcoholic drink or an overpriced fruit juice concoction on the "mocktail" menu.  We found a restaurant in Ashland, Oregon where the mixologist was as proud of their created drinks without alcohol as those with.  Hub and I both loved them.  This is a bottle of shrub syrup, a gift from Son Two and my DIL.  I'll enjoy a drink made with this tonight.

PART 1: I DON'T DRINK ALCOHOL (AND I'M ANGRY)

I had my last glass of Chardonnay 12 years ago today.  My last glass of any drink containing alcohol, actually, but Chardonnay was my daily imbibe.  It tasted good, especially with seafood, or pizza, or salad, or chocolate chip cookies, or potato chips, or apples.  Basically I felt it a versatile pairing with anything on my plate.  Also great all by itself!  

No, I was not a daily "drunk" in the classic sense.  But I drank daily.  Occasionally I drank too much.  Very occasionally I drank way too much.  So do most people who drink alcohol.  Just about everyone can relate to having one too many and a hangover the next day at some time in their lives.  And generally don't learn their lesson.  So what, then, is the "classic sense"?  We still seem to picture "drunks" as sloppy, slovenly, perpetually slurring and stumbling and embarrassing.  Most of the time drinking isn't like that.  Even daily drinking.  Most of the time it's accepted, celebrated, social, and "harmless", right?  Hmmm....

Recent research is refuting the health benefits of alcohol.  Come to find out, those famous red wine studies showing it's good for heart health, and other studies recommending "moderate drinking", (even those done by our very government at the NIH) were funded by the alcohol industry.  So there's that.  (JAMA cites a study that an average of even 1 oz a day for women and 1.5 oz a day for men leads to increased death rates.  That's not a very generous pour!  Oops.)  

Alcohol use among older people can be especially problematic as our ability to metabolize the alcohol (yes, it's a poison after all), is less efficient, so we get drunk faster and harder.  (Harvard Health Publishing).  

And really, who can say who will be able to drink forever with little effect and who will end up being addicted?  80% of adults say they've had alcohol in their lives; 70% in the past month; 56% in the past week.  People are drinking.  And alcohol is a highly addictive drug -- the most commonly addictive drug in the US with over 6% of the population struggling with alcohol use disorder. (Caron Treatment Center)  

So those new studies showing it's "not safe in any dosage" will have an uphill battle getting the word out to an imbibing populace.  Alcohol culture is firmly entrenched.  

And alcohol culture advertising tells us that if we don't imbibe we are no fun, not attractive, not cool, not part of the conversation, not part of the group, not interesting, not sexy, not adult, not funny, not sophisticated, not, well, not part of the culture that calls us to drink for a million reasons -- to celebrate, to mourn, to socialize, to be a good host, to be a good guest, to de-stress, to relax, to "party", to mark life passages, to have a meal, to enjoy or to drown whatever emotions might bubble or befall us.  But I can ignore advertising, which is designed to sell insecurity and the cure for it with any number of products they push.

It's the every day culture of alcohol that is harder to be part of as a person who doesn't drink the stuff. When I quit drinking a friend lamented, "But now we can't go to Happy Hour!"  Because suddenly I was rendered mute, somber, and boring?  I admit, over the past 12 years I have become bored with having to listen to so many conversations about drinking that I could scream.  I am left out of huge swaths of family "fun", passing around various craft brews, wines, and spirits to sample and to analyze the flavors and brewing/distilling processes and stories of breweries (and wineries) visited and enjoyed.  I am slightly appalled that NO social gathering with anyone is ever alcohol-free.  People just wouldn't feel welcome or celebrated without an alcoholic drink offered.

I am pissed that there is no actual word for a mixed drink not containing alcohol that does not set it apart from one that does.  (They are commonly called non-alcoholic, near-beer, mocktail, virgin, even "temperance drink".)  It reminds me of the whole "woman doctor" trope, or using "he" to refer to both "he and she".  There is no way to identify a drink not containing alcohol except in relationship to its opposite.

The industry is making alcohol oh so much easier to access and more attractive too -- especially to younger people.  Mixed drinks and wine now come in soda-pop looking cans.  Slogans printed on bags, wall plaques, glasses, caps, t-shirts, you name it...all extoll the silly fun of drinking!  It's a fruit!!!

There are entire festivals dedicated to drinking alcohol.  Our town is gearing up for its annual Beer Fest where whole city blocks are roped off so revelers can wander from brewery tent to brewery tent with tokens to spend on tasters of beer.  Later this summer the same will be set up for  the wine annual festival at the waterfront.  For these events, I used to be the designated driver, then I stopped going so I was the designated babysitter at home, then when babysitting wasn't needed I decided to just stay home alone. But  I discovered my "vibe" was very different from those who had gone and came home with a few under their belts.  Nope. This year I'm leaving town.  I plan do an annual weekend getaway on beer fest weekend.

I've been told I'm too judgmental, too strident, too sensitive; I should live and let live, it's not a big deal, it's part of human nature to seek out mind-altering substances, it's historic, and I should stop worrying about how all of this impacts children and teens ("in Europe kids drink wine"!). I should stop being so vocal about my values and recognize my values are not shared by others which I should "radically accept".  And mostly I try to keep a lid on it.  But I tell ya, alcohol culture is everywhere.  That celebrating and accepting the use of an addictive substance is seen as "normal" and I'm seen as strident for my choice and opinion is a bit much to take.  

At least, that's the view from here...©

P.S. Part 2 coming up -- Life without alcohol is good!

QUIET MIND, GOOD FEELING, NO FISH

If you read my last post on June 1 https://myviewfromhere-donna.blogspot.com/2023/06/giving-up-on-hope.html, you know I had an epiphany and it led to acting upon my life in a new, less emotionally stressed and frantic way.  I'm here to report that it's still working!  Mostly. 

I have, however, felt a bit of a crisis of confidence lately about two things:  1.) my yoga teaching, now done mostly through a private Facebook group with hopefully inspiring posts and weekly or so Facebook Live videos, with little/no poses; mostly yoga/life philosophy, and,  2.) this blog.

It's often hard for me to believe anyone really cares what I have to say, which may be the most important insight I've had lately. LOL   So, I've been quiet.  No FB Live videos and no blog posts for over a month.  And yet, I feel an internal urge to say stuff out loud anyway hoping, but never knowing, if it might positively impact someone. And now I'm back sharing again.  So, I invite you to take what resonates and leave the rest.

The Three Principles teachings I've been studying (see previous post) talk about having a "quiet mind" and a "good feeling".  Hub and I are on a similar path lately and we've committed to meditating together for 30 minutes every morning.  Some days my mind is so, so quiet.  Other days it is not.  Both are fine -- the human condition is that we think.  It's what we do.  But when we can see that some thinking is often not serving our best interest (ruminating, future-ing, regretting, etc) we can breathe and come back to being in the here and now by focusing on the senses and getting quiet, or closer to it.  And when I am in that quieter state, I feel more at peace.  It's a good feeling.

I've become very aware that I/we "live in the feeling of our thoughts".  What we think, leads to how we feel.  Together this creates our personal reality.  We are only one thought away from a new reality! 

This is liberating for me, one who thinks herself into anxiety-producing worst case scenarios and self-loathing depressions on a cyclical basis.  Also I think I know what everyone else is thinking too and I add that to my list of thinking myself into believing things that may or may not be true, but are mostly not my business.  It's exhausting and unnecessary.  

My thinking mind needs to realize that I have infinite possibilities for thought and I don't have to return to those well worn grooves of worry.  The circumstances aren't doing me in -- it's my thoughts about circumstances that get me.  (It's why several people can experience the very same thing and have very different responses to it.  Our thoughts create our personal reality -- every time!)

Anyway...in my quieter absence from yakking at people in various places,  I've mostly spent the last few weeks staring at an empty aquarium.

I decided a little over a month ago to get my own tank.  Son One is a serious hobbiest and I've enjoyed his enthusiasm for his aquariums.  On a bit of an impulse, I decided to give it a try.  Something new to learn (chemistry!), a live thing to care for (fish!), and a pretty thing to look at (clear water, colorful movement, relaxing aesthetic!)  Son One took me shopping and we got my 10 gallon tank set up with live plants and a two Nerite snails.  But wait....no fish???  

My first learning was about "cycling" or "seasoning" the tank.  It's very science-y and I'm still learning and my head is spinning with conflicting information, but I'm loving this so far.  Get the plants established and water parameters stabilized, then add fish.  This can take several weeks unless you do it with chemicals, which I am not.  Mother Nature is my friend.

My water plants are growing like crazy. (Valestinaria, Red Tiger Lotus, and Crytocoryne Wendtii Green).  My Red Lotus has sent up three new shoots of leaves to float atop the water.  So pretty.  I have some other green floating plants that Son One gave me too -- not sure what they are.  One of my Nerites died, sadly.  The other is doing well.  I added two Mystery Snails which are growing and seem healthy and busy.  (Did you know they eat blanched green beans, cucumbers, spinach...??? So cool!)

I check my water chemistry daily and it's pretty stable.  After 4-1/2 weeks, I might be ready to add some fish soon, but part of me almost doesn't want to.  I am  learning patience and how to create a watery eco-system, not just something pretty to look at.  (Algae is a good thing in a new tank!)  Fish will just complicate things.  And be beautiful, of course.  So there's that.

Yet, if I think my aquarium MUST have fish, my feeling right now would be one of impatience and frustration.  But if I think my aquarium is an environment that is evolving and each day brings new change and new learning, the feeling I have is one of wonder and joy with what's right in front of me.  

Quiet mind, good feeling, no fish (yet).

At least, that's the view from here...©

GIVING UP ON HOPE

I quit. Mostly.  Not completely.  That wouldn't be me.  But I have given up on hope.  And expectation.  And searching, striving, longing, questing and wearing mostly blacks and grays.  

My emotional life, always a work in progress, has been like riding a rickety roller coaster over the past 7-ish years.  There have been highs.  But also, a ton of shit has come down.  (I feel compelled to offer the disclaimer that none of it is really life-threatening, although some was emotionally devastating; all of it is tinged in the privilege of introspection and questing for for aliveness and fulfillment beyond basic survival.  I know that.)  

I'd lost my naive trust in the institutions that I thought were solid and sustaining and lost my faith in people to do the right, true, compassionate thing; lost my connection to communities I believed to be above petty conflict and silent acquiescence; lost my ability to move freely in the world without fear of the breath of the person next to me; felt alienated from a group of friends I'd hoped would be a sustaining community of support; lost the consistent tether to my treasured family through forced separation, differing priorities, and just the way of things as people navigate different ages and stages; felt the shock of a betrayal of trust.  And that's just the big stuff.  The usual life challenges were also present, along with some humbling physical setbacks and the inexorable march of time, marked by ever increasing years with each birthday.  I found myself in therapy several times, struggling to keep going at all, or to simply stop the cycle of depression/anxiety.  

I have felt for awhile as if I was suffocating under the weight of so many therapeutic/psychological/self-help modalities that I could barely breathe or move or think or feel without seeking yet another theory, book, or expert to help me through the next crisis.  I just couldn't hear, or believe, my wonderful therapist telling me to trust myself.  To be on my own side.  I could not save myself.  (Only about three people knew any of this was going on, so don't feel bad if you had no idea; it's testament to my Academy Award winning performance, honed over a lifetime of acting "as if".)

Last week I had another long and hard conversation with Hub on a subject about which we see things differently and by which I felt threatened.  Down the rabbit hole I went with my anger, fear, confusion; crying, feeling hopeless and embarrassed, and realizing I'd gone from near euphoria earlier that day because I felt so confident and happy, to dejection and self-loathing for not being able to maintain equilibrium under perceived fire.  The rapidity of my decline was stunning.  I saw, again, that I "should" change -- be better -- be something, anything other than how I was.

But within the hour after our talk, I had an epiphany.  I wanted to quit.  I didn't want to "work" on myself, him, us, or anyone else anymore.  I wanted to just be in my life and let it unfold.  I decided to take my considerable library of psychology/self-help books off my shelves and store them out of sight so I wasn't tempted to turn to them.  I decided to delete all but two of my psychology/self-help podcasts (there are other reasons to keep those), avoid articles, stories, posts, etc that offered me "10 steps to a happier life"; unsubscribe to newsletters and updates about workshops and webinars that offer to once and for all help me understand myself, other people, and to "live the life I deserve".  I have cleaned house.  I am flying solo.

Almost.  Because when I started frantically packing away my books, I ran across one I swore I'd never seen before.  It was a slim paperback volume with an eye-catching red, white, and blue cover.  I don't recall buying it.  I had no idea where it came from.  But there it was, "The Inside Out Revolution" by Michael Neill.  I was curious about this thing that had shown up out of nowhere, a nudge from the Universe, sitting on a seldom used table under some other books.  I opened it, started reading, and didn't put it down until I was finished.  As I read I could feel waves of euphoria wash over me.  When I finished I smiled.

It told me to stop searching. It told me I was perfect as I am.  It told me that my thoughts were creating my emotions and my reality.  It told me I am part of a perfect Design. It told me I could make it all stop and all would be well.  All I had already learned was there to guide me.  It spoke to me.  As did the Michael Neill TED talks I've watched.

I'll write more about this, I'm sure.  For now this discovery feels like the melding of: my yoga practice and philosophy, my personal spirituality, a touch of Buddhist teachings, my wise therapist's words, guidance from my various meditation teachers, all the psychological work I've done in my adult lifetime, my life experience.  I feel affirmed and validated in this new-to-me Three Principles teaching:  Mind (the Universal Intelligence/the Larger Whole); Consciousness (Awareness/the "waking up" to all that is); Thought (creator and substance of our reality).

Does this all sound woo-woo ridiculous and like just another "theory" to latch onto?  Maybe.  But I know for me, right now, it's like a miracle of discovery.  In recent days I have gone from that low of self-loathing and desperation, to feeling a weight lifted, calmer, more enthusiastic about life than I have been in years.  I am more accepting, more curious, more loving, less desperate to try to change, fix, or save myself or anyone else.  Everything I think and do has meaning and a sense of wonder and fulfillment.  I don't regret my past.  I don't dread or even anticipate the future.  I can handle what comes.  I'm present with my life's unfolding.  I'm just in it, minute by minute.  

That's why I've given up on hope (helplessly projecting a future I want/desire) and expectation (grasping for a specific pre-determined outcome).  (BTW, these are my personal decisions, not anything advocated by Three Principles.)  And it's why I've decided to brighten my palette.  

A friend sent me an article about "Dopamine Dressing" -- that wearing bright colors you feel good in sparks production of dopamine and serotonin -- the happiness hormones.  I just ordered a pair of Marsala colored (orange-y) leggings and a butter-yellow shirt.  You'll see me coming.  And I'll be smiling.

At least that's the view from here...©

COVID IS OVER (?)

I just looked it up.  On January 31, 2020 the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services issued the following: "Determination that a Public Health Emergency Exists Nationwide as the Result of the 2019 Novel Coronavirus."  

I bet on that date no one paid much attention...or even knew what "novel coronavirus" meant.  Oh, it was mentioned and we were starting to be cautioned, but wasn't that something that happened in China?  Or Italy? Or New York City?   We here in the city where I live had a bit more of an early wake-up call since at some point early on it was determined that a patient at the hospital a couple miles from my house was the first diagnosed person in the U.S. with the virus, after returning from a trip to Wuhan, China.  Still...it seemed weird and maybe a little concerning, but life just went on.  It was a "flu thing", right?

Wrong.  In February 2020 our state was in the news again as a resident at a nursing home in suburban Seattle was the first reported death from the coronavirus, as we still called it then, and it spread through the facility with lightening speed taking the lives of many.  We all got serious and started to wonder what was going on and what to do about it.

By mid-March 2020, the country and the world were shutting down.  The "lockdown" came. Daily activities, like work, school, national sports, arts and entertainment, retail establishments, the travel industry, churches, and social gatherings...essentially everything we'd always taken for granted was shuttered, suspended, over.  Streets were deserted as we were admonished to stay inside and away from other people.  We thought it would last for maybe two weeks.  We couldn't even imagine at that point what was ahead of us for months, years.

Slowly over time things got back to something like it was in the "Before Times".  And now, a little over a week ago, on May 11, 2023, the Public Health Emergency officially ended.  Finally enough people have been vaccinated or achieved a level of immunity through exposure that the virus is not as virulent for most of us. New vaccines and medications meant that even those who contracted the virus were likely not going to suffer life-threatening symptoms, were likely not going to die.  

But does that mean "Covid is over" like some people want to believe?  No.  I sat with an old friend at a fundraising dinner this week who shared that he and his wife, both of whom had avoided the virus for 3 years, had succumbed within a month of each other early this spring.  My own son has had it three times.  All have been fully vaccinated.  It is out there, waiting.  Those who are older or who have underlying health conditions that make them more susceptible are still at increased risk.  So we stay vigilant.

Hub and I went yesterday for yet another "booster" -- this is our 6th Covid-19 vaccination since January 2021, when we got our first and long-awaited shot.   At that time the vaccine was new and so many people were clamoring, one had to sit for hours/days/weeks online trying to secure an appointment at one of the large vaccination sites set up in arenas and parking lots trying to vaccinate thousands of people.  We took photos of ourselves getting our vaccination.  I actually wept -- not from fear or pain, but from gratitude.  Now we try to stay up to date with the new vaccine boosters that fight the variants that have morphed from the original virus and I continue to be grateful, if not tearfully so.  It's just a commonplace thing we do now; humans adapt.

Yet, as we waited for our shot yesterday, Hub reminded me of that first one and I got teary again.  I had a flash of memory of that awful time of constant news stories, and personal stories, of the suffering and death Covid brought to the world, and probably every single person in it, either personally or through someone they know.  I thought of all the anti-maskers and anti-vaccs-ers (including those in leadership in our government) who contributed to the ongoing spread of the virus out of a misguided notion that they knew better than all the reputable doctors, scientists, and researchers who were so desperately trying to stop the pandemic.  They helped prolong the suffering and death unnecessarily.  

I could write pages and pages of memories -- both horrific and grateful -- about the past three years of living through this historic pandemic.  It was a time of terror and a time of optimism.  It was a time of confusion, isolation, and heartbreaking loneliness and a time of reaching out and making connections in new ways we had never imagined.  It was a time of boredom and a time of creativity.  I wrote lots of blog posts then and I suppose those will suffice as my personal chronicle, but I know there was much more to my experience that didn't get recorded, because it couldn't.  It was too all-encompassing.

Today I'm still dealing with the fallout of it all.  I am outrageously grateful that my family survived (we've all had it except Hub and the grandchildren).  I am outrageously grateful that science and (finally, with a new administration in D.C!) good policy won the day.  But I still also recall the terror, the frustration, the rage, the helplessness, the loneliness, the sadness of it all.

I think we've all learned, even while life on the surface looks like everything is "back to normal", that naively thinking we are immune to some future similar event is just wishful thinking.  We know now.  And maybe we will be more prepared next time.  Or not.  People want to "forget" and move on.  They want to leave it all in the past.  

But for me, the past is fertile ground for learning and remembering.  I will take those lessons with me into the present and the future.  Hub and I still mask in enclosed spaces (airports, airplanes, stores; we choose to eat outside when we can at restaurants, etc.)  These days that just feels like common sense to me and I'm a little uncomfortable when I can't do that.  The possibility of contracting Covid is still just at the edge of my awareness.  Because it's still with us.  And likely always will be,  Health Emergency officially ending or not.  We need to be mindful of that and take nothing for granted.  Every day is a gift.

At least that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit: I took this photo in the public restroom of a local coffeeshop/bookstore.  It hangs as a piece of early history of the pandemic.   It feels silly now to read it, but then we had no idea.  We had so much to learn!   Be well, my friends. 🙏🏽