I'm going on a retreat next week, so I'm trying to think of all the things that must be done before I leave, as if the world will be in chaos because I'm not around. Well, the world will be in chaos, but I'm not doing much to stop it and my superpowers are ebbing. I need a battery recharge, and I will be a much more pleasant individual when that has happened. Leaving for the world of silence is attractive to me, as usual. Though I am a complete chatterbox at times, I do like not to have to make the effort continuously. I get really sick of hearing myself speak. And I'm shaky about my authenticity when I speak as well. Am I trying to please the other person, make them like me? I have a mile long history of that, perhaps stemming from having to move often as a child. Is there an image I wish to project? Falseness, pure falseness. My intention is to speak to connect with others and remain open and curious about the world. But that is idealized, and in fact, I babble when I'm nervous, and for many other less that stellar motivations.
So the silence will be good. I get to notice my thoughts and interior monologues and patterns. Then, if I'm lucky, I can sweep my mind clear and see what honest, genuine and hopefully useful stuff rises to the top. But I have to remember to carry along my sense of humor, because as Yogi Berra said, otherwise it's deja vu all over again. It's a struggle not to bore myself to sleep.
The silence on retreats relaxes me in a deep way, providing comfort and an introduction, yet again, to who I am underneath. Then I can go forth into the world with my intentions reset, my motivations exposed and the support of my practice propping me up, nudging me on, as I head down my path, merrily, merrily, merrily, to no where in particular.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
Aging Day by Day July 9, 2010
It's beautiful weather and I sat outside yesterday and today for lunch, which is my idea of the idyllic life. We're pretending it's Paris and we're at a cafe. Since today we saw an impressionist exhibit, the illusion is enhanced. A little accordian music and the fantasy will be complete. And yet, the longest day of the year has passed, and the days are getting shorter, and somewhere I know this and want to squeeze every drop of summer out and sip it while I can. Even if it's a foggy morning/slightly chilly day and not really true summer weather. Today I wore no socks, though wisdom would have dictated that they were necessary for the temperature. I refuse to bow to the facts of the weather, I prefer to pretend.
Can summer be made of not quite summer weather? I believe so. I will it so. And this funky place can be a echo of Paris even without the architecture and the accents. There is no end to what determination may accomplish. Though may and will are two different beings.
Can summer be made of not quite summer weather? I believe so. I will it so. And this funky place can be a echo of Paris even without the architecture and the accents. There is no end to what determination may accomplish. Though may and will are two different beings.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Old Age Day by Day July 8, 2010
Our older two kids' stepmom is here visiting, and we've been having a lovefest talking about our mutual granddaughter. We don't bore each other at all, as we're both in love with the same little two year old. It's fun hearing stories of her more recent exploits. I really enjoy this woman and our shared interests, not only the kids, but many other enthusiasms. She recommends books to me, and we instinctively pick out the same item of clothing or print. We've known each other for almost forty years now, and ask about each others' relatives and travels with true concern. History is so lovely when shared, if it is wholesome, and our united efforts to be kind and respectful of each other has yielded true friendship and the comfort of trust. Long ago we decided, without speaking of it to each other, to do what was best for the kids, and we have done so. It is now easy and pleasant for all concerned, because we took a higher path. We were both in our twenties and now are in our sixties. We were lucky we instinctively knew what to do that would be best in the long run. And here we are, near the end of a long run, and the rewards are tender and sweet. I'm grateful.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Old Age Day by Day July 7, 2010
I have a blue corduroy stuffed pig on my desk next to the computer. I found it when cleaning the basement and washed it in the washing machine and now have only to fix a few seams where the stitching has come out. Our older son sewed this pig for his younger sister when he was in home economics in junior high. Those were the good old days when boys had training not only in metal shop and woodworking, but cooking, sewing, writing up a budget, caring for children and other actually useful skills. He still is the best ironer I know. I can't hold a candle to him. Now the pig will be ready for his children and it's a mighty sweet pig with pink ears and the dimensions of a pillow.
Our younger son had none of this training, and I'm certain he would have enjoyed every minute of it. And it's not like we have vocational schools, we just cut out of the budget the life skills that might actually help when you move away from home. They are too useful to be valued in our culture. Providers of day care, teachers, school staff - anything occupation that holds the responsibility for our future in their hands - we devalue them and then wonder why our kids are ignorant and without resources inside themselves to handle life.
I've never had a house cleaner or anyone to do my work. I felt it was important that our kids see the two of us, along with their help, tackle the messes we create, and build confidence about their self sufficiency. Physical work is meaningful, and its repetitions are sometimes boring but also often comforting to the body and mind. I still enjoy the fact that I can sew on a button, make curtains, hang a picture, change the oil and a tire, paint a chair bright blue and smile. I wish they'd put such simple, accessible joys back in the school day.
Our younger son had none of this training, and I'm certain he would have enjoyed every minute of it. And it's not like we have vocational schools, we just cut out of the budget the life skills that might actually help when you move away from home. They are too useful to be valued in our culture. Providers of day care, teachers, school staff - anything occupation that holds the responsibility for our future in their hands - we devalue them and then wonder why our kids are ignorant and without resources inside themselves to handle life.
I've never had a house cleaner or anyone to do my work. I felt it was important that our kids see the two of us, along with their help, tackle the messes we create, and build confidence about their self sufficiency. Physical work is meaningful, and its repetitions are sometimes boring but also often comforting to the body and mind. I still enjoy the fact that I can sew on a button, make curtains, hang a picture, change the oil and a tire, paint a chair bright blue and smile. I wish they'd put such simple, accessible joys back in the school day.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Old Age Day by Day July 6, 2010
My husband and I were up at our cabin for the 4th. We had pine needles to rake, cleaning to do and deck furniture to put out. But we still got some walking done, and sat out on the deck to eat and read. With two dogs, we don't canoe much any more, or swim as much either, as dogs can't be on the lake beach any more. Times have changed. I was sitting out when the overwhelming feeling hit me that most of my experience at the cabin, after 25 years, is over with. The good times behind me. It shocked me to have the thought, as I'm usually pretty forward thinking and not sentimental or regretful, but my mortality really hit me then. I examined the thought and found it to be true. My best times at the cabin are, generally speaking, behind me. It's a fact. That doesn't mean I won't have wonderful moments ahead, but that sense that all the kids and friends are around which made the cabin so special - the crowded party boat, the many towels hanging out on the deck railing, the big barbeques and dog birthday parties - these will not happen again. I still have my dear friend who rents the cabin next door for a week in summer, and she has a bustling crew, but I'm often alone or with the dogs. My kids rightly want to be up when I'm not up, they want to do their own thing, and friends have complicated schedules but not parallel ones, since are kids are all way grown.
It was a punch in the gut kind of letting go, and it took some time for me to acknowledge, with any degree of equanimity, what is so. The cabin is slipping out of our hands and into those of our children and grandchildren. There will always be a big piece of my heart up there, and I hope my family feels it when they're up. I bought the cabin outright with my father's life insurance payout when he died. I knew he would have loved it, especially the fishing. My mom, well, maybe she would have rather stayed at the Hilton, if there was one, which, thank goodness, there isn't. But she would have been happy embroidering on the deck or reading. I used to feel like I was extending their lives by living mine. Now I feel the extension stretching beyond me to my children and grandchildren. It's poignant, true, and quite a piercing adjustment, but one I'm attempting to make gracefully.
It was a punch in the gut kind of letting go, and it took some time for me to acknowledge, with any degree of equanimity, what is so. The cabin is slipping out of our hands and into those of our children and grandchildren. There will always be a big piece of my heart up there, and I hope my family feels it when they're up. I bought the cabin outright with my father's life insurance payout when he died. I knew he would have loved it, especially the fishing. My mom, well, maybe she would have rather stayed at the Hilton, if there was one, which, thank goodness, there isn't. But she would have been happy embroidering on the deck or reading. I used to feel like I was extending their lives by living mine. Now I feel the extension stretching beyond me to my children and grandchildren. It's poignant, true, and quite a piercing adjustment, but one I'm attempting to make gracefully.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Old Age Day by Day July 2, 2010
My husband delayed going to work this morning so we could watch the World Cup and Netherlands beating Brazil. It was so exciting, especially on the Spanish channel, where the announcers' enthusiasm is infectious. My team (now that Mexico is out) Ghana, is playing at eleven. It's fun. Kind of the same as watching opera. Exhilarating.
Today is our younger son's birthday. We're set to have lunch together, and shop a bit. He's so easy to be with, and interesting to talk to. I feel blessed that I enjoy the company of all our kids tremendously. Lots of laughs, and we share a lot of enthusiasms, like art and music and movies. Well, not the same movies. We have a tradition of seeing a movie on Christmas day, but some years we can't all agree, so we stay home and play cards or another game. And now that our granddaughter is on the scene, we watch her like we used to watch a movie, only she's better viewing.
A long weekend is here, and despite mixed feelings - my Cherokee ancestors were on the side of the British, and my Scottish ancestors probably for the revolutionaries - the Sioux and Germans, who knows. I just like the holiday. Mainly because I love fireworks and potato salad and baseball. I will even buy turkey hot dogs and slather them with good mustard and a ton of onions. It feels like THE celebration of summer. And I'm in favor of summer all year round.
Today is our younger son's birthday. We're set to have lunch together, and shop a bit. He's so easy to be with, and interesting to talk to. I feel blessed that I enjoy the company of all our kids tremendously. Lots of laughs, and we share a lot of enthusiasms, like art and music and movies. Well, not the same movies. We have a tradition of seeing a movie on Christmas day, but some years we can't all agree, so we stay home and play cards or another game. And now that our granddaughter is on the scene, we watch her like we used to watch a movie, only she's better viewing.
A long weekend is here, and despite mixed feelings - my Cherokee ancestors were on the side of the British, and my Scottish ancestors probably for the revolutionaries - the Sioux and Germans, who knows. I just like the holiday. Mainly because I love fireworks and potato salad and baseball. I will even buy turkey hot dogs and slather them with good mustard and a ton of onions. It feels like THE celebration of summer. And I'm in favor of summer all year round.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Old Age Day by Day July 1, 2010
I talked to our son in Asia this morning. It was nighttime for him. We spent a long time on baseball, then the World Cup. I was for Mexico, but now Ghana, and if worse comes to worst I'll root for Spain. My son's thinking well of Germany. We discussed passing and other elements of a game he has played since he was six. It's strange to have him away so long, and without seeing him. Money is difficult for research, and he is forced to be away from his wife and family because the flight is too expensive. It's hard times for him, but the end is in sight. As a mother, I just feel that cord of connection stretched too far, and I want him home. It's irrational, but so ordinary, this feeling of having my field of awareness so huge, and so abstract. Yet, it is a lesson in interconnectedness. Right now, the news there is of huge importance to me. It should always be, but at least I'm forced to open up my world and make it larger, more generous.
I've been stretched in this way from an early age. I married someone from half way around the world, and that has meant, even after his death, that I have family from that first marriage in the Pacific, in South Asia, in Ireland. My field has been pretty inclusive since I was nineteen. And my kids have lived in other countries in Europe and Northern Africa, and been traveling even more widely. Once before, our older daughter was traveling alone in the same country for a year, and it was before cell phones and I talked to her once a week from a phone office. She was in a place I couldn't imagine, and going there near the end didn't help with the worrying. Of course, something can happen anywhere, so it's unfair, but that huge distance does make the worry quotient rise alarmingly.
Yet, as a result, my family has always thought globally, as well as locally. And that is a very good thing. The earth is holding all of us in her arms, and we owe it to her to hold all of it's beings in our hearts.
I've been stretched in this way from an early age. I married someone from half way around the world, and that has meant, even after his death, that I have family from that first marriage in the Pacific, in South Asia, in Ireland. My field has been pretty inclusive since I was nineteen. And my kids have lived in other countries in Europe and Northern Africa, and been traveling even more widely. Once before, our older daughter was traveling alone in the same country for a year, and it was before cell phones and I talked to her once a week from a phone office. She was in a place I couldn't imagine, and going there near the end didn't help with the worrying. Of course, something can happen anywhere, so it's unfair, but that huge distance does make the worry quotient rise alarmingly.
Yet, as a result, my family has always thought globally, as well as locally. And that is a very good thing. The earth is holding all of us in her arms, and we owe it to her to hold all of it's beings in our hearts.
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