JUST PERFECT. PERIOD.

 I draped the red fleece blanket over the back of the "fancy chair" in my living room.  I set up a standing tray next to the chair to hold the gifts. I clipped greens from a fir tree in our yard and arranged them on the glass-topped coffee table, interspersing red votives, aflame.  I prepared white chocolate hand-dipped strawberries on two white platters to add to the table.  

Saturday was a special day for the women in my family -- my granddaughter, her mom, her aunt, and me, her grandma. We gathered to acknowledge and celebrate my sweet granddaughter's first menstrual period.   

First, where did the years go?  And why does this have to happen to girls so young?  I guess I still think of her as my little girl.  But she's not "so young"; in fact, she is right on target for the average age for this to begin.  She and I have been talking about this occasion for some time, as her body has changed in ways signaling the event was soon as hand.  I asked her if I could have a special Family Dinner when she got her period.  "Grandma!  NO!"  We laughed.  Then I asked if I could do a little party for her with just her mom and aunt and me.  She agreed, if not joyfully, also not reluctantly.  She mostly seemed puzzled.  So, this has been on the back burner until a month ago when I got a Messenger text from her -- "I've got some news Grandma....I got my period."  As with most things, she took it in stride, saying she was neither excited nor mortified; "just neutral, I guess."  

I knew I wanted to mark this life transition in a positive and supportive way for her.  We have no cultural recognition of this occasion in the U.S.  I looked it up.  The internet is full of "rituals and customs" from around the world, but totally silent here.  We don't publicly celebrate what happens naturally when kids transition from childhood to puberty; instead, we find ways to tell kids they're growing up by what they can "do" -- get a driver's license, vote, drink, etc.  These are age-related milestones that totally ignore the inner turmoil raging in changing bodies and minds. 

I thought there must be a better way.  We gathered in my living room.  I explained that our intention was to celebrate this amazing life-affirming/life-giving event with joy and laughter, with story-telling, advice, information.  The women of the family told their stories of first periods which had been couched in embarrassment, secrecy, and scant information or instruction. I wanted to do it differently.  We were breaking the pattern of loneliness, confusion,  embarrassment, and silence. We were speaking out, with honesty, emotion, joy, frustration, and encouragement.  My granddaughter took it all in, asking occasional questions, smiling, listening, laughing with us, and being totally composed and engaged.  Her maturity was a thing to behold.  

After we shared our stories, meandering into birth control and pap tests, the latter of which my granddaughter found most appalling of anything she had heard!, I read short blurbs of cultural rituals from around the world, ranging from community parties for the girl in which everyone she knew was told, to girls being banished from the family for the week of her period.  

In the Native culture of the Ojibwe people, a young girl is forbidden to eat strawberries for the first year of her periods.  During this "berry fast" she focuses on personal growth, sitting with and learning from her elders during the week of her periods.  At the end of the year she breaks her "berry fast" and is seen as a leader among her peers.  I especially wanted to include this to also honor my granddaughter's half-Native heritage.  After our time of sharing and "learning from the elders", we all dug into the white chocolate strawberries!  I'd not made her wait a year -- only about 2 hours.  

We ended with each of us telling the honoree what we love and appreciate about her, then offered her a "blessing" saying what we hope for her at this time of her life.  We all acknowledged her generosity, kindness, humor, compassion, and creativity.  And we all wished for her to find her assertive voice in the world, to love and appreciate herself, to know how special she is and never doubt or denigrate her own unique qualities.  And we pledged ourselves to her, letting her know this is an ongoing conversation, not a one-time thing.  As her aunt said, "We've got your back." She took all this in with a smile on her face, never breaking eye contact with the speaker, with a calm composure far beyond her 12 years.  Can you tell I'm so proud of this bright light in my life?

We adjourned to more snacks, waiting for the men to return with her little sister for a pizza supper together.  That's when she and her mom revealed that there had been some trepidation coming into this unknown "thing" Grandma had cooked up.  My granddaughter had told her mom she hoped I wasn't going to do some "voodoo" thing to her.  LOL  I guess I must have freaked her out just a wee bit last summer when I engaged her assistance in doing a "sage smudge" of our camper to "banish the bad juju" I felt there.  Was it when, engulfed in wafting aromatic smoke, we chanted, "out with the evil!  in with the joy!"? Whatever....LOL

There was no Voodoo on Saturday, only the joyful connection of the sisterhood of women in my family.  She messaged me later, thanking me, saying she loved all the love and support.  Just perfect. Period.

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

TAKING UP THE MANTLE

Today I'm thinking about time....passing.  I have no turkey in waiting, no bread to prepare for the stuffing, no 'fridge full of holiday foods to assemble, no list of what gets made when; no "good dishes" set out, nor cloth napkins ironed, nor fancy candles to light; nor extra chairs at the table; nor anticipation of the family arriving tomorrow from 'over the river and through the woods (or at least from across town and up I-5) to grandmother's house they go'.

This year the torch is passed.  Son One and his family moved into their beautiful new home 6 weeks ago and they are excited to christen it with the joy of family gathered for Thanksgiving.  For all my grousing at times about a holiday centered around one meal and how much work it is to pull off and clean up after (I'm not a cook), I admit to shedding a tear or two about this transition.

That said, I also admit to the tear-fest being exceedingly brief.  I saw immediately the perks of going elsewhere.  With the youngers taking on the food planning, shopping, and prep, finding enough chairs, setting the table, and cleaning up afterward, all I need do is show up with yams and brussels sprouts at the appointed hour.  With sons and daughters-in-law who love to shop, organize, and cook this is actually a dream come true.  And, in spite of the fact that in my family of origin the women hosted until they were no longer "able", I can let go of that outdated tradition and enjoy, while still perfectly able, NOT doing the day at my house.

So yes, my home seems a bit bare today and uncharacteristically quiet with no kitchen hubbub of preparations.  It is also peaceful, and I feel a sense of relief, as I look around at all my autumn decorations, sipping my coffee, feeling gratitude for my family and their not just willingness, but eagerness, to take up the mantle and continue the tradition of sitting down to a holiday meal together in celebration of thankfulness.

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

AGES AND STAGES, PART 1: PARENTING ADULTS

Here is yet another thing I never really saw coming....the Ages and Stages of adulthood.

I was all over the "ages and stages" thing when my sons were young.  I read voraciously about growth and development, what to expect at various ages, how to get my own expectations of their behavior in alignment with their social and cognitive development.  I tried at all times to anticipate, understand, to guide and to encourage all manner of expression and development.  I was a child development fanatic.  Mostly I think this had to do with how insecure and inexperienced I was; I knew I needed some training to do this job well.   I am also a 'study nut'.  I love reading and taking classes -- especially when the topic has practical applications.  Being a studious parent is like taking the theory class and immediately applying that learning in the lab.  Sometimes the lab gets messy.

But I am realizing that my studies about human ages and stages sort of ended once we all navigated college graduation and the rude awakening adjustments that went along with them finding their way to gainful employment, mature relationships, and independence from Mom and Dad.   I forgot that adults go through stages too, even though I am self-aware enough to know that certain milestones bring up some surprising emotions.

Marriage, children, empty nesting, deaths of loved ones are all life-altering.  Retirement, downsizing a home, children's marriages and grandchildren...more events that rock the status quo.  But I had seen these all as "things to deal with",  both the good and the challenging; sort of events on the surface of life, distinct from one another and once navigated, some altered sense of "normal" would return.  With the initial "off to college" empty nest, I thought I'd done my "letting go", but I realize now it was just navigating an event, not really altering my sense of self.

In a conversation with Son-Two yesterday, however, I realized I am in a full blown "stage of development" that will enable me to grow into a woman who has a different world view; a different behavior pattern; a new way of thinking and being beyond the immediacy of a life event.

Two major family events are happening within three weeks -- the birth of Son-One's first child and Son-Two moving out of our home.

I realize I am struggling with being the mother of adult children.  We all get along great and I'm not feeling stifled, but I'm very, very aware of walking the razor's edge of being too involved and not involved enough.

Son-One and Beautiful DIL are very independent people who rarely ask for help and don't make a habit of informal, spontaneous contact.  They are open and loving when we are together and we all have a great time, yet I don't just stop by their home at the drop of a hat (even though I have a fantasy of doing so) and they rarely come to our home spontaneously either.   I don't offer up the plethora of advice I could when I see them struggling or making decisions I know might be better made in a different direction.  I know they have to find their own way and in fact, their way may work great for them, even if different from my way.  I wouldn't want them to resent me and any "I know best" proclamations, but I also don't want them to wonder why I didn't help them or warn them about this or that. The birth of their new baby solidifies their independence -- and also makes me want to move in with them.

Son-Two has been living with us for awhile to get his financial footing, and now is moving out in two weeks to a shared house about 20 miles away from us.  I'm thrilled for him and sad for me.  He is a joy to have as a "roommate" -- considerate,  fun, conversational, helpful.  He's actually quite open to my natural inclinations to offer advice and guidance, and seems to take it in without resentment or feelings of judgement.  He often ignores me, of course.  Yesterday I was getting rather far along in my "tips for living with a new roommate" soliloquy when I realized I was talking to him the same way I did when he went off to college and not as he is now, a grown and independent young man who has an extrovert's social skills that outstrip my own.

I stopped mid-sentence and burst into tears.  I realized at that moment that I am just unsure how to interact with my grown sons.  Like a "mommy"?  A friend?  Hands on or hands off?  Speak up or stay quiet?  The impulse comes from a place of deep love and caring...of wanting them and the people they love to be happy and never have to suffer.  But does it also come from a place of controlling?  Of not wanting ME to feel the pain of their pain?  Is my intervention about them or about me?

This is where a new stage of introspection comes in.  I learned during the "mothering" stage of my life how to set my own desires aside in service to raising my children.  I was no pathetic, self-pitying mom, but NO ONE raises children without giving up a bit of themselves.  It is a selfless act of love, when done with one's whole heart.  Now I have to learn once and for all how to take back all the parts of myself I gave away.  My love for them will never fade, but it's time to rewrite my "Mom" job description.  It has far fewer "primary responsibilities" and is much more an "on-call" position than a full-time profession.

Finding the "sweet spot"where love and connection reside beside separation and independence is the work ahead of me.   I'm sure it will include a lot of tears, a lot of mistakes, a lot of humor, and a lot of learning.  When I explained all this to Son-Two yesterday, my tears flowed freely as I felt deeply what this change will mean to me.  Then I had to laugh when Son-Two asked, "Mom, how long do you think this stage will last?"   Good question!  It may be as challenging for those around me as for myself.  Just like those Terrible Twos...

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

LIMPS AND SWAGGERS

It's raining.  A good day for cocooning in and being quiet.  I've been busy, busy, busy with home projects and social events.  My dear, sweet, brave, beautiful, hilarious friend from Boulder, Co. just left after a short visit and I miss her already.  Our long talks about life, personal work, and spiritual growth has put me in a contemplative state.

That, and reading a book called "A Year to Live" by Stephen Levine, in preparation for a monthly class I'll be taking with 7 other intrepid seekers over the coming year.  We are going to explore how to live fully in this moment as if we only have a year to live...and to face that end time without fear, whenever it comes.

I read this morning in Chapter 5 about the importance of doing both our deep personal psychological work as well as the mindful spiritual work of focused awareness.  Levine says this:  "When one level is fostered to the detriment of the other we develop a psychological limp or a spiritual swagger." Oh, how I have seen (and experienced) both!

For almost 15 years I've done deep personal work based on a Jungian psychology of archetypes and shadows.  I have gone away for a number of weekend experiential "initiations" and "trainings", that are really like intensive counseling sessions.  With skilled, loving leadership and facilitation I have uncovered many psychological keys to understanding my core psychological wounds, what behaviors continue to prevent my full expression of Self, and how to break through barriers and become more fully expressive of my own nature.  My twice monthly women's group continues to support and challenge me in this awareness, keeping me on track and reminded of where I came from and where I'm going.

I could go on and on and you are either right there with me now, or you've already tuned me out.  Suffice to say, I know myself pretty damned well and the whys and hows of my psyche's dance steps.  I still sometimes lose the beat, but more often these days, I get right back in the groove without too much anguish and sometimes with a fair amount of laughter at my 'backsliding' into a less aware state of being in the world.

But for a long while I was so focused on the psychological work, and "healing my wounded Self" that I walked with that psychological limp like a badge of courage, obvious to all.  I AM DOING MY WORK!  I HURT!  That eventually went away and my walk became whole again.   For others, I've seen them move into "wound worship", limping along on a constant path of "healing" that never seems to conclude, always seeking another training or workshop to be the "be all, end all" for their suffering.

And I've seen the opposite -- the spiritual swagger of those (me too, sometimes) who "transcend" the mundane woundedness of the human psyche and move right into assumed higher planes of existence by focusing on a constant "feel good" spiritual high, as if to say, "This incarnation of the human experience is full of pain...let's not go there."  Let's go instead to the Zafu or the mat or the ashram or the temple, church, or mountaintop where I can just be At One With the Cosmos and not have to muck around in figuring out why my earthly life is such a friggin' mess...why I'm lonely, or angry, or afraid a lot of the time.

There is such satisfaction and relief in the ah-ha moment of a psychological breakthrough.  There is such euphoria in spiritual transcendence.  But in my judgement, as Levine says, there is something incomplete in choosing the duality of one or the other.  Integration is key.

As I move more inevitably into my eldering years, with mortality on the horizon and more real, there are times I feel the terror of impending death.  I love this life and what I've made of it.  I want more of it; I am so curious about the future and what the world, and me in it, will be.

Yet, reality is that it is our nature to die.  Gotta do it.  So, the work of this age and stage is to get ready; to fully embrace what this human life has been, is, and will be, and to remove the obstacles to living it freely and without constraint of old patterns, wounds, and inner voices that hold me back and keep me down.  It is also a time to turn inward; yes, to sit in quiet contemplation in those places of calm and to connect with a consciousness greater than I am; to know that whenever the end comes, whatever awaits, I am ready to take that step without fear, with peace, with love.

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

FOR WHAT IT'S WORTH

"Write what you know," they say.  Well, the dearth of posts this month would indicate I don't know much.  This affliction is commonly known as writer's block, I guess.  And some teachers say there is no such thing.  Just write.

I've tried.  I've been journaling, free-writing, taking a writer's workshop weekly, reading a lot, meditating, chanting...  Nadda.  Nothing.

Here's what I do know:  "Somethin's happenin' here; what it is ain't exactly clear..."

I have felt at loose ends in my life before, but never like this.  Never so loose it feels like I am untethered and slowly lifting off from the solid ground I've always stood on.  I feel like I am standing beside myself, watching me go through the motions of my life, but I have no attachment to it; it just is.

I want to believe I am entering a state of Buddha-nature enlightenment because I am a good student and what takes many lifetimes for most Boddhisatvas, I am accomplishing within about 2 years of intermittent meditation and sporadic study.  Boom! Done!

Or maybe I'm depressed and this lack of attachment is the familiar draining of joy and meaning I know so well with my history of falling into the black pit of despair periodically.  But it doesn't feel like that.

I don't feel hopeless or unworthy.  In fact, the opposite -- I feel like I am everything, all the time, and nothing, none of the time.  (No!  I am not "high"; no matter that weed is now legal in my state, I gave it up several growth and development lifetimes ago and have no interest in becoming reacquainted.  Obviously my own inner reality is trippy enough!)

My overwhelming desire, impulse, longing is to pull in and get super quiet and super intentional in my life.   I am unnaturally delighted on days when there is nothing at all on my calendar.  I do want to go out and see things and experience things and hang out with people -- in limited quantities.  Sometimes I wish I could wear Harry Potter's invisibility cloak at social events; I'm there, but you can't see me or pull me out of my own experience of observation and internalization.

I have been staying home a lot more than I used to; dreading "doing" things.  That's not healthy, and I do long for novelty and interaction with the world.  One day "out" and three days "in" seems about the right ratio now.

So, has anyone diagnosed me yet?  Please?

Here's what feels right to me:  I am in transition to another age and stage -- moving into what will likely be a time of deep spiritual growth and connection to the next plane of existence. (Hopefully many years off, but it takes awhile to prepare!)   I feel a sense of wonder and delight.  I feel deeply, soulfully appreciative of the grace of living this human experience.  I have lessons yet to learn, and lessons yet to teach.  I don't want to waste a single moment on obligations to people, places, or things that do not feed my soul's desire to grow into lightness and peace.

Oh, this sounds very woo-woo, yes?  And yet....

That's the view from here...©

HAPPY NEW YEAR

2013....  2013????  Here's me in 5th grade (1961) when I woke up to the fact that the "1900's" would be over at some point....I sat at my desk, counting on my fingers (I got left behind in 4th grade long-division, so my fingers still act as my  personal abacus) to determine if possibly I'd still be alive in the year 2000.  I accurately determined I'd be 50 years old and I might actually live that long since I knew my grandma was over 50 at the time....
Well, I did live that long and then some.  In fact I'm still here and occasionally sit and count ahead as I did then, wondering how far into this millennium I might expect to get.   I try to be optimistic.

And then I remind myself that "the future" is pretty irrelevant and TODAY is the only thing I have.  In fact, THIS MOMENT, is really the only thing I can count on.   Still, we are sort of programmed to plan ahead, set goals, project into the future, and this is all necessary if we want to live in chronos world, so, every New Year feels like a clean slate, a time to start over, to make plans, to anticipate.
This year is no different for me.  I find that on this, Day 4 of 2013, I am nearly manic with enthusiasm for the possibilities that lie ahead.  I am filled with "clutter-busting", cleaning out, getting organized energy.  List upon list of "things I want to do" are materializing -- classes to take, trips and travels to undertake, family times to plan, socializing to do, movies to see, recipes to try, projects to begin (and accomplish!)  And weight to lose. (It is obligatory to throw that in.)

This is a time of transition in my life, as the last decade has been, actually.  But this feels different.  Something has shifted again within me and I feel a movement toward more peace, less stress, more acceptance, less judgement, more equanimity, less anxiety.  I am incredibly eager to see if I am right about this. My life always surprises me and I'm never actually sure if what I think is happening really is. All of this positive thinking and eager anticipation could fly right out the window with the first emotional trauma, bout of unexplained depression (hello, old friend), or disaster of any origin.  Still, something ...something...something that feels like confidence in my ability to lean into whatever comes my way is wriggling itself into my psyche.

2013.  Could this be the year when my life feels like something I own, am responsible for, and embrace  instead of something I am enduring, fighting, and utterly confused about?

Some of the elder women mentors I've known, those in their 60's and beyond, tell me there is a definite shift in thinking/ feeling/being that occurs after 60.   Could that be what this is?  Oh, how delightful!  That is not to say there won't be pain, loss, fear, more confusion.  But there may just be a calm, peaceful, loving embrace of EVERYTHING that is life and the knowing that nothing is forever.  "This too shall pass" may be the wisest words ever spoken, as each moment passes into another and another and another....

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

LIFE AND DEATH

Well.  Damn.

You know it is inevitable when you have aging pets.  You see the slower pace, the stamina waning, the  resting time increasing.  And still our Toby, at 10 years old, has retained his tail-wagging, ball-chasing, paper-fetching, food-scarfing, biscuit-begging, human-loving enthusiasm for life -- melting our hearts as only a Golden Retriever can.

In late-May we noticed he was sort of coughing; sort of panting a lot for no reason; sort of hacking as if something was caught in his throat.  A vet visit in early June didn't reveal anything much on exam or x-ray.  We tried some "what not?" antibiotics and something for respiratory issues.  We thought we saw some improvement, at first.   We were sure that if it was the heat and maybe an allergy, the changing season would make it all go away.  But no, in fact, lately it was getting a bit worse again.

Last week we saw our regular vet, who recommended a specialist who could do an endoscopy (tube looking down the trachea and esophagus) and see what might be going on down there.  Couldn't see or feel a thing from the outside.  So on Wednesday we took him in for an early morning procedure, sure that a quick and easy test would reveal a fixable problem.

Ninety minutes later Hub, our two sons (who had rushed from their jobs) and I huddled around the cage where Toby lay as he slowly came out of anesthesia.  We were struggling with the news and what to do.  A tumorous mass on Toby's trachea was the "throat problem".  It was inoperable and likely fast-growing.  One option was to pre-empt what would likely be eventual suffering and choose to let him go then and there, before the anesthesia had fully worn off.

We were all in shock.  Hadn't he been perfectly fine (so far as we knew) just a couple of hours earlier?  Hadn't our lives, and his, been typical for a Wednesday morning?  What were we doing there, holding each other's shock and grief, listening to a stranger tell us our precious Toby was not going to get better?

But we are a pragmatic and compassionate family.  We will not prolong the suffering of an animal companion just to avoid our own grief.  We have been here before, with two other dogs and cats.  It is always heart-wrenching and incredibly sad.  We have always known when it was time and that it was right.

But this time....the longer Hub talked to the vet the more I could read shades of doubt on Hub's face.  One advantage of Hub's profession in medicine is his ability to discern the many layers of truth that can accompany a diagnosis.  I could read concern/skepticsm/doubt on his face as the vet talked about what he saw, what he guessed, what he was unsure of.  There were just too many unanswered questions to risk losing our Toby without another shot at saving him.

We are not inclined toward heroics.  We won't spend untold thousands of dollars on cancer treatment.  But we decided we would bring him home and try to reduce the inflammation, run another course of heavy-duty antibiotics, and pray to some canine diety that this could possibly be something else.

Are we in denial?  Sure, maybe.  But it's not time yet and it's not right yet.  Toby is still Toby, with a cough (which has actually calmed a bit in the two days since his procedure).  He ran down the stairs this morning and straight to the front door to trot out and retrieve our morning paper, as he does every morning.  He ran to the treat cabinet waiting for his reward.  He wiggled and wagged when we bent to pet him.  He lay in his doggie bed in the kitchen, his perch from which he keeps tabs on us all day.

If that thing in his throat really is a tumor, it will grow.  When it reaches a size that even just a little bit starts to interfere with his breathing, it will be time.  We will not watch him struggle or suffer.  We will know and we will do what has to be done.  For now he is loving the TLC we are showering upon him, blissfully unaware of the reason for our newly dedicated devotion to him.  We are holding our grief at bay.  We are grateful for his Golden spirit and how it has shone upon us, and will for as long as he lives.

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

WITH THIS RING, I THEE WED

I'm struggling here.  I feel I should have lots of wisdom to impart upon the occasion of this month's personal milestone -- having been married for 40 years, to the same man.  But I'm coming up short.

Someone told me I should write a book and "tell us how it's done".  Wouldn't that be nice?  A "how-to" manual in a one-size fits all format.  It would have saved me a lot of heartache had someone handed me that 40 years ago.  But that's not how it works.  We all make our own way in relationships.  Sometimes the way works; sometimes it doesn't.  Sometimes we ought to run for the hills; other times hanging in there is the best course.  Who am I to know what would work for someone else?

This is do know.  I said I was married to the "same man" for 40 years.  That's not really true.  Nor is he married to the "same woman" who stood at the altar with him on that hot July afternoon.  Hub and I often joke about our "many lifetimes" together.  We recognize the changes we've undergone, separately and together, and realize that we are no longer the same people we were then in some very essential ways.  I love that!  I guess I love it because I think we are better now, but not as good as we are gonna get.

And therein lies what works for us.  We've learned that change is inevitable, that introspection and the desire to live a life of integrity, accountability, commitment, and inner peace are touchstones that allow us to stretch into unfamiliar lands of exploration and discovery.  We are willing to wrestle with our personal demons, acknowledge them, heal them, and move into the light of self-knowledge that precedes meaningful personal growth.  We have the compass of those guiding principles and find we are lost less often and have an easier time getting back on track when we do lose our way.

Also, we love each other.  We accept each other.  And most importantly we respect each other and have each other's backs.  I am like a Mother Bear when I feel Hub is unjustly treated; it's hard to get back in my good graces if you mess with my man.  As for him, he is my constant champion, always believing in me, cheering me on.

We also tend to agree, usually, on the stuff that often creates un-breachable rifts in couples:  money, religion, politics, sex, how to raise kids...basically, we have the same "world view".  We both tend toward introversion.  We like the same music and movies and sports teams.  We value family.  We have mutual friends and give each other lots of space to enjoy individual friendships as well.  I think many of these commonalities were there from the beginning, or maybe it's the many years of trial/error/compromise that has created so much "alikeness" at this point.  Reminds me of people who tend to look like their dogs.  We often choose those who are a reflection of ourselves -- we are compatible.

But there are points of difference too.  Sometimes we choose those very unlike ourselves, being drawn to that very different-ness as a way to experience another way of being without having to really be that other way.  Hub and I have made some peace, although frustration sometimes rears an ugly head, with those places that we probably won't ever share with the same passion.

He is an outdoorsy, athletic, mathematically-inclined, rational individual, who knows what he wants and how to get it, and is persistent enough to ensure he is successful in whatever he undertakes.   I think he sees life as a problem to be solved and he is sure he can do it.  He can be sort of serious. I, on the other hand, could spend days in a bookstore and/or coffee shop, love pop culture, the world of words (reading/writing), have a "messy" mind that seems to see all sides of every issue and "feels" rather than "thinks" my way through situations.  I see life as absurd; if you are articulate and can make me laugh, I'm yours.

Together we get to be all of these things.  I visit beautiful places in nature, love football, and have learned to be organized and work toward goals.  He shares my passion for Ecstatic Dance, Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart, and can often "go with the flow" now even better than I.  In some ways, since retirement, we've even done some role reversal -- he lazing about 'til noon most days and me up at 5:30 ready to tackle a to-do list.  Weird!

So, anyway, I don't know.  There are no easy answers to how to stay married for 40 years.  Those many lifetimes together have sometimes just been an endurance race....hanging in there.  And sometimes I have thought about what my life would be like without him, losing myself in a fantasy of singleness, freedom, no more negotiating and compromising....and it feels both liberating and lonely. At other times those many lifetimes together have just been the air I breathe.  I am so connected to this man and our marriage that without him I'd feel cut loose in space, floating forever alone, unable to ground myself in all that I have known and loved, without him by my side.  I know how that sounds.  I still mean it.

We are a couple; we love each other; we re-commit every single day that we wake up together and move through another day together and go to sleep at night together.  We are here, companions on this path.  We aren't going anywhere else.  We don't know what future lifetimes await us -- certainly there will be joy and challenge, just as there always has been.  Our desire now is to be fully present in each moment, moving into our Eldering years with grace and gratitude, together.  We'll do our best; life will do the rest.

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

CH...CH...CH...CHANGES

I went to a retreat earlier this month with a group of people all interested in exploring "Life Transitions".  There are transitions at all stages of life, of course.  In fact we are "in transition" every minute of every day.  But this retreat drew folks who were 50 or older, not by design, but by self-selection. All of us are trying to figure out, now that careers are winding down or behind us, children grown and (mostly) independent, health and wellness beginning to demand attention where previously neglect may have reigned...what's next?  How can we create a "Third Act" where we can draw upon our experiences, delve into some old "tapes" that we've told ourselves is true for us, and see if maybe it's time to hit the stop button and find a new story that defines us, perhaps to embrace a life of creativity, integrity, and spirituality in a way that is intentional and satisfying.

Easy, breezy...right?  Well.....not so much.  Looking inside, being vulnerable about ourselves in front of others, struggling with conflicting "wants" and "needs", trying to hold on and let go simultaneously, feeling the crush of grief, the stomach churning grip of fear, the confusion of not knowing.... This is courageous work.  Try it some time.

Our gentle and encouraging facilitator provided us with sketch pad journals, a set of pastels, skill in leading meditations and a sense of safety for exploration.  Before each session, we had a time of guided and silent meditation, then he led us in a variety of exercises that used drawing, writing, and collage to explore our past and create a short-term goal for our future (...."and what will you do by Tuesday?").

One of my favorite exercises was to look back on the "chapters" of our lives and come up with a title for that chapter and draw a picture to illustrate that.  Here's mine:

The Childhood Years -- Hiding in Plain Sight.  The "story" of a quiet, good girl who was invisible much of the time.

The Teen Years -- Filling Out and Fitting In -- The story of a girl who got some attention from boys (nice/confusing) but couldn't seem to fit into the "popular girl clique".

The Young Adult Years -- The Rebel Breaks Free -- The story of finding feminism, breaking free from expectations, and establishing an identity not based on "should".

The Early Middle Years -- Call to Duty -- The story of accepting responsibility, engaging in activism, supporting a husband, raising children, running a household, finding meaningful paid work.

The Later Middle Years -- Emerging Self: Grieving -- The story of exploring an identity not defined by roles; and letting go, letting go, letting go: empty nest, aging/dying parents, leaving the work-world.

Now (Early Later Years?) -- A New Beginning....

It was interesting to briefly thumb through these chapters and get a sense of what was most important in each for helping me become Me, and to think about what those experiences meant for what the future holds.

The final chapter is still to be written, but I am not at that final chapter yet (well, we never really know, do we?).  It excites me to be able to actively create the pages that will lead up to the conclusion of this journey.  I think it will have something to do with intention, with healing, with presence, with mindfulness, with family, and with friends....

Because in every stage, in every chapter there have been many, many, many scenes of grace, of grief, of laughter, and of connection.  I can't imagine that changing.  I can imagine I will learn not to struggle so much, not to try to control so much, to just "be" more, and to live more fully in each precious moment of this precious life, seeking connection to heart, to love, to acceptance, and to joy.

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

DREAM-WEAVER

I had the dream again last night.  The one where I am in my house (sometimes it looks like my actual house and sometimes it doesn't, but it's "mine" just the same) and suddenly I come upon rooms I never knew existed.  The house seems to go on and on, one room after another, previously hidden from me, but now perfectly obvious as I wander through this maze of discovery of what was apparently there all along!

Naturally I "googled" this dream imagery and discovered it is very common and generally indicates the dreamer is on a journey of new discovery.  The reaction to finding these "hidden" rooms tells much about the dreamer's state of mind regarding this journey.  Afraid?  Excited?  Opening those new doors?  Or slamming them shut?

My reaction inside the dream is one of excited delight, of anticipation, and even desire for there to be more and more rooms.  This is a good thing...I am ready for growth and anticipation with the realization that I am discovering strengths, skills and abilities I have within me.  I am opening to realizing my greater potential!!!  Wow!  The dream last night seemed to focus on huge wide hallways leading to these new rooms.   Hallways symbolize self-exploration and a new path in life, a journey into the unknown, a transitional phase, a spiritual enlightenment.  Wow again!

Because in "real life" (that is, when I'm awake), I am very aware of being in a transitional phase, of being on a spiritual journey, of taking a path into the unknown....and sometimes it scares me.  Often I say I don't recognize myself anymore...or my life...I feel off-kilter and a bit panicked much of the time.  I feel a sense of dread and overwhelm.  This is not new, I guess.  I have always been a worrier and have gazed at the half-empty cup at every age and stage, questioning what is coming next and assuming it will be worse than what has come before...or at least that I will be unequal to the task before me.  I have done considerable "inner work" on overcoming these irrational fears, but it still seems to be my default response to change.

Conversely, my other "real life" (when I'm asleep) is seeking to assure me that all is well and, in fact, it's pretty great.  Retirement, kids grown up, a few minor health issues, increasing wrinkles and gray hair, and a new and sometimes confusing study of Buddhism and Insight Meditation do not foretell of disaster.  In fact, what my subconscious is telling me is that this is a time of excitement and growth:   I am on a path of self-realization, "hidden" potential is about to be revealed, spiritual growth and awakening are mine to behold.

All I have to do is believe it when I'm awake.

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

TIME IS ON MY SIDE

People often say time seems to speed up as they age.  Days, weeks, months, and years seem to fly by.  When asked about certain specific events, people often believe they happened much more recently than they really did: "Oh no...can it be that long ago already?"  It's a strange phenomenon.  It's a perception, since time itself is pretty reliable in its stability.

(OK, all you quantum physicists out there...you win, with whatever argument you want to throw at that statement, because while I find your analyses and theories utterly fascinating, they are beyond my ability to truly comprehend.  I love the Science Channel series "Through the Wormhole" mostly for the amazing topics that I always think I will understand, but ultimately don't.  It also has some great photography.  And the sound of Morgan Freeman's voice, who could convince me of anything, is so soothing.  Also I love the idea that there are so many people who have brains wired to sit around for their entire adult lives writing long and complicated math equations in note pads and find this a fun and rewarding career.  What????  I would like a TV series to explain that to me and tell me why I didn't get one of those brains.)

So, this perception about time has one theory that the younger we are the more novel our experiences (so many "firsts") and that we focus on them in ways that later we gloss over because so much has become familiar, mundane, routine.  The "big" moments are fewer and farther between, so they seem like they happened "only yesterday".  Naturally other theorists are now poking holes in that notion.

I don't know what the answer is.  I just know that the perception that "time flies" seems to be true for me.  And if it has to do with that novel experience idea, then I say do more of that!  Yet I realize that I have lately begun to want to do less.  In recent months I have become a seeker of comfort, ease, and familiarity.  So this does not bode well for  experiencing novelty.  Does that mean my days are flying by with nothing to hang on to and no memories to anchor me in time?

Or is there another way to experience "novelty", even in the mundane?

In recent months I've also begun a meditation practice that is based on "mindfulness".  I am a novice and I fail more often than not, but the idea is to be "mindful"-- fully present, in each moment.  Washing dishes becomes an experience of feeling the water, the temperature of the water, the way it flows around the dishes, runs over my hands, noticing the suds light and airy floating across the water's surface, white and translucent, the heft of the bright red bowl in my hand....you get the idea.  It's a much different experience than just rushing through the task. I'm not standing there with a dreamy look on my face loving every dish-washing moment, but I'm trying to be "present" with the task, not a million miles away with thoughts racing in various directions while I mindlessly get through it to get on to the next thing.

Maybe mindfulness creates novelty, each experience "new", each day, week, month, and year anchored in meaningful experience.  Because it's every minute of every day that make up a life.  It's not all noticably different, but it can be all "new" if we are paying attention.  This is the only life I have right now; I want to savor it and not let it slip away to that time when I will awaken to the realization that it's already over...and went by so quickly.

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

FROM AMEN TO OM

Many paths....one Truth.  That pretty much sums up my views on personal spirituality.  I have no patience with people who declare themselves keepers of the One True Way.

This is a long road away from the religion of my childhood, youth, and into "early-middle" adulthood.

I tried hard to be a good Protestant Christian girl.  I grew up in a "believing" but mostly "non-church-going" family.   When I was around 11 or 12 my mom decided we should all go to Sunday services, but my dad was a reluctant church-goer -- which made him really fun to sit next to in the pew.  He loved to sing, so I kept poking him awake between hymns at which point he'd come alive -- most loudly at the sung Amen at the end of the song, an exaggerated baritone booming forth to my stifled giggles.  I loved my Methodist Sunday School -- lots of fun songs, nice teachers, cookies and Kool-Aid.  Jesus was depicted as very smiley, hugging kids, and playing with lambs.  Nice man.

I married into a staunch Missouri Synod Lutheran family of preachers and teachers.  It was expected that I'd become Lutheran too, so without much thought of objection, I did.  It made my in-laws very happy.  It made me very confused.  These were some Bible-believin' folks and I had a lot of questions about what I saw as inconsistencies in their reasoning.  Later I realized "reason" was not a part of their belief system at all, so I had even more head-scratching to do about that since they were all bright college-educated people.  Their form of Christianity was dogmatic, punishing, and stern...not the cookies and Kool-Aid version I'd grown up with.  There were rules.  God seemed angry and Jesus seemed sad and doomed to die for me.  Sorry, Jesus.

So, after my husband and I moved away from family ties, we joined an ELCA Lutheran church.  It was less stern; but still, well, Lutheran.  We got involved in the social justice committee there and we were very active, but always fighting the "old guard" who saw us as too opinionated (standing up for the down-trodden!), radical (forming a Feminist branch of WomenChurch!) and political (writing letters to Congress about social justice issues!)  We thought Liberation Theology Jesus was on our side, but we couldn't always be sure.

So, we moved on to the Congregationalists.  The church was very politically active, politically liberal in outlook, and socially conscious.... and had a liberal, socially conscious, politically active, sort of self-righteous and rather exasperated Jesus at the center.  So much so that if social justice wasn't "Job-One" 24/7 in your life, well, maybe you just didn't really believe in "helping the poor" and "loving your neighbor" and "saving us all from evil" (our government, mostly) quite enough.  Do more! Do more! Do more! Never give up, give in, or give out!  Tired Jesus.  (Tired me).

What could have taken us so long to find the Unitarian Universalists???  Well, my husband's strong Christian upbringing kept us looking for a version of Jesus he/we could abide.  But finally, we realized that Jesus just might be more alive in a church that didn't trade on his name.

About 20 years ago we became Unitarian Universalists, where we happily remain and will stay.  We are encouraged to respect all, use democratic processes in our interactions, find our own path to a personal spirituality (learning about and understanding many wisdom traditions to do so).  Far from "you don't have to believe anything to be a UU", which is a commonly mistaken assumption...for me UU's have a STRONG  belief system -- in our inherent goodness, in the inter-dependent web of life in which we all live, in our ability to reason, discern, and decide for ourselves what we may or not "believe", in living ethically, lovingly, respectfully, with humility, and in the certainty that this life, right now, is precious and meaningful.  Because of all that, we are a caring, creative, socially conscious, politically active, and spiritual bunch of people.  Hello Jesus!


....And Allah, and Buddha, and Krishna, and Cosmos, and Void, and Humanity.... there are probably as many seekers as there are UU's.  We are all on a journey of Many Paths to the One Truth...and it doesn't bother us too much not knowing where the path leads.

Lately I've been exploring Bhakti Yoga practices of chanting the names of the Divine in the Hindu tradition and sitting in a Buddhist-focused meditation Sangha.   Both are bringing me joy and great peace.

My UU friends are many, and most would be surprised to know I also have a personal Jesus-kinda guy presence within me most of the time....he's kind, gentle, peaceful, powerful, angry, righteous, and quite good looking (naturally).  He doesn't try to "save" me, but he gives me encouragement to save myself, and the quiet inner peace of knowing that the One Truth is out there... and it is good.

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