tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70767498988539721982024-03-10T00:16:22.163-08:00In Search of a TitleI am always in search of something. What did I discover today?Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.comBlogger346125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-22778348040904570532020-12-31T14:27:00.002-08:002020-12-31T14:27:26.751-08:00The Edge of a New Year<p><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj53uPk1VEQL0OONsoPnd7y8PJWYJ83eNuP2uNFUBOtZ51P1w4z3WL6LfqCt2Ywh8WbjEORgMsaaFik9fcsmVhDtqGC1nZURnuPoiffWDEoVAx7_ZejyCLmsslUapugMhKHie8MaD6zSc/s2048/yearbook52+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1362" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj53uPk1VEQL0OONsoPnd7y8PJWYJ83eNuP2uNFUBOtZ51P1w4z3WL6LfqCt2Ywh8WbjEORgMsaaFik9fcsmVhDtqGC1nZURnuPoiffWDEoVAx7_ZejyCLmsslUapugMhKHie8MaD6zSc/s320/yearbook52+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Most years I enjoy sitting on the edge of a new year. There is anticipation and curiosity about what lies ahead. Maybe 2021 holds even more excitement than previous years because its predecessor was so limited, so isolating, so confining. I have missed people, traditions, and experiences. I am ready for some kind of return to what used to be.<span class="Apple-converted-space" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px;"> </span><p></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">At the end of a calendar year, I often generate a list of fifty things that I want to do in the new year. These are not resolutions but rather ideas for things that sound interesting or necessary for the new year. I like to post the list on my art room wall and check from time to time to see how I am doing. When I compose the new list, I do it without looking back at last year’s list. Some items seem to come up every year in some way or another but there are new additions to the list that point to my current interests and passions.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">So here is the list for 2021.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Items are in no particular order. They merely fell off my fingers this way. I know there are a lot of travel related items and I know I can’t do them all.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I included them though because all are a possibility.</span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><b></b></span><br /></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">***OCL = Once COVID leaves</span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><ol class="ol1"><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Stay curious.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Adopt a coffee shop. (OCL)</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Write more poetry.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Read more poetry.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Help Meg with their baby.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Stay in Yosemite Valley in April.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Heal from shoulder surgery in January.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Visit artists and studios in Alberta, Canada. (OCL)</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Appreciate the sunshine-blue sky every time it appears.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Do more photography explorations and experiments.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Develop skills necessary for taking portraits.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Look for Beauty every day.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Share Beauty in some way or another as often as possible.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Pay attention to the positive in every situation.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Go out to dinner at a real restaurant. (OCL)</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Browse books at Copperfield’s (OCL)</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Take Rilke’s suggestion and let everything happen - beauty and terror.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Return to the complete yoga practice (pre-injury days of 2020).</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Bicycle to the Gate again on a weekly basis.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Camp on the Smith River in the summertime.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Smile at strangers.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Continue exploring Buddhism.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Write regular blog posts.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Resume regular massages. (OCL)</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Resume art classes (OCL)</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Paint big (and small) with acrylics.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Paint small (and big) with watercolors.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Experiment with pastels more.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Consider working more with collage.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Paint homage to Georgia O’Keeffe.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Visit Bell Springs every month. (OCL)</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Go to Redding several times in 2021.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Do the complete Hunter’s Camp hike.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Hike the Pomo Canyon to Red Hill trail.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Go to Pt Reyes several times.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Arrange to see The Nutcracker in SF next December.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Re-visit the DeYoung Museum. (OCL).</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Go to Ft Bragg for a couple of nights. (OCL).</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Take Meg to the Gypsy Cafe for breakfast. (OCL)</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Learn to listen - really listen - to the Universe.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Go to the big screen movies. (OCL)</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Make room for emptiness.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Have the courage to be passionate about life.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Consider adopting a friend for Ellie.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Take a road trip to Myra’s wedding in Boston.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Go to NYC in the fall.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Slow down.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Get much needed help with Wordpress</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Listen to more live music. (OCL)</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Be on the lookout for good surprises.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Keep wonder and mystery alive.</span></li><li class="li5" style="-webkit-text-stroke: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; font-kerning: none;">Don’t stop loving.</span></li></ol><div><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></span></div>Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-21892757662858807042020-12-28T08:43:00.022-08:002020-12-28T08:56:21.979-08:00How Are You Managing Now?<p style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 1.6842em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Noto Serif, serif;"><span style="font-size: 19px;">Since last March, I have had periodic chest pain and shortness of breath. For the longest time, I ignored it because that’s what I do. I also didn’t want to deal with it during the opening months of the pandemic. In the fall, the chest pain started getting worse and my excuses (spring allergies, and then smoke) ran out. I caved and got it checked out. They ruled out lung issues and I was sent to a cardiologist.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 1.6842em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Noto Serif, serif;"><span style="font-size: 19px;">I am not a candidate for heart disease. My cholesterol and blood pressure numbers have always been ideal. My weight is excellent, I exercise daily and with gusto. There is no family history of coronary artery disease. But the cardiologist played the “heart disease can be unpredictable” card so I did the</span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Noto Serif", serif; font-size: 19px;"> echocardiogram and the cardiac CAT scan. I still have to see the cardiologist for the follow up appointment but even I can read the report sent to my on line medical file. When you see “normal, normal, normal”, you might assume that heart disease can be ruled out.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 1.6842em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Noto Serif, serif;"><span style="font-size: 19px;">What can’t be ruled out is that it has been a damnable year of COVID fear and anxiety, of election rage and disgust, of justified and angry civil unrest, of ridiculous high temperatures with frightening wild fires and harmful smoke that obliterated the sun. On a personal note, it was a year of continued disconnect from certain important people. COVID won’t allow me to visit with some people who matter and emails can only go so far. The anxiety and limited choices offered by a pandemic can stress even the best of marriage and family relationships and that adds to the isolation. I know I am not alone in this but this year’s holiday time was the most isolating and lonely Christmas season of my life. Christmas Day was gray and rainy and cold. COVID and SIP meant no visitors. I looked around at how to make the best of the day but, honestly? The best wasn’t all that great.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 1.6842em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Noto Serif, serif;"><span style="font-size: 19px;">So you want to know why my heart hurts? Don’t look at the X-rays and ultrasounds. Look at the year it’s been. How do you take away that sharp and steady push on the chest? That feeling of not being able to breathe? Good question. I suppose one can set their eyes on some rare and perfect tomorrow but that only goes so far. I do want to have the right attitude, the go with the flow attitude, the “everything is gonna be alright” attitude and often I catch it and often I can hold onto it. For me, it does seem to be dependent on sunny weather, long days, bicycle rides, paint, lightness, and levity. In these days of literal darkness, constant pain from the most recent bike accident, and a shadow of loneliness, I can lose my grip.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 1.6842em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Noto Serif, serif;"><span style="font-size: 19px;">One strategy that I have come to depend on involves others. I have learned to draw strength and good humor from the people around me. I am disappointed and angry that I can’t go visit my extended family members. They bring me so much lightness and joy! But I have discovered, especially during this pandemic year, that the internet is full of interesting, positive, funny, kind, thoughtful, creative, engaging souls. Twitter gets a bad rap for negativity and meanness but not on my feed. I have met the most delightful people there and made some genuine friends. I have people who brighten up my day with their photos, their art work (huge props to #ArtAdventCalandar group), their humor, their wisdom. Between the #FlowerReport and #SundaySentence, Sundays can be so rewarding. Every day, I can read book and poetry reviews. Every day, I am treated to photos and information about locations all around the world. Every day, I can catch articles that might expand on the headlines. I can see things all day that make me chuckle and, best of all, I can enjoy side conversations with people who have become real friends. No, it’s not the same as IRL but who’s to say if one is necessarily better than the other. I know my life has been made immeasurably richer this year by some of these connections and for that I am grateful.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 1.6842em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Noto Serif, serif;"><span style="font-size: 19px;">I’ve also been reminded about another way to change my outlook. How about not merely absorbing goodness? How about giving strength, beauty, affection, good humor to the people around me? How about sharing the wealth? A funny thing happened to me years ago that illustrates this point. I was a waitress when I was in college. I can remember going into work one Friday evening. I was having boyfriend trouble and I was cranky. I was also, however, both smart and empathic. I knew that a grouchy server was not going to add pleasure to the patrons’ dinner. I also knew that grouchy servers did not get good tips. I pulled out that smile and that gracious attitude and the oddest thing happened. An hour later I remember noticing that my mood had improved dramatically. The boyfriend trouble had not gone away but my irritability had transformed it into genuine cheerfulness. Something about fake it til you make it? I have never forgotten that night and that revelation. It still works.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 1.6842em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Noto Serif, serif;"><span style="font-size: 19px;">I’m not saying one should merely brush off the bad times or stuff them away. I am suggesting that it works to acknowledge the tough times and then to literally set them aside, if you can. What has helped me do that is to do something for someone else. If I can remember this strategy when the world seems dark, I set my own darkness up on that mental shelf for a little while and I attempt to shine some light for someone else. Maybe at first I might have to connect with some good person or some good idea. Maybe I need a little fuel to reach out. That’s okay. I do that. But then I throw something out that might improve someone else’s day. What I know now is that one never knows how an IRL or an internet smile can impact someone else.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 1.6842em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Noto Serif, serif;"><span style="font-size: 19px;">So how am I managing after nine months of pandemic isolation? I have my good days and my not so good days. With the help of my friends, especially those who remind me of the light, I am making it through. Life is hard but I do know that, if you let it, life can also open lots of doors. Life can bring a lot of light and love into your days. Granted, it can be challenging and the last few weeks have been harder than I imagined they would be. But January brings the gradual and visible return of the sun. By the end of January, the longer days will become more noticeable. There will be signs outside that winter is moving towards spring. The COVID vaccine will begin to have an impact on our communities and perhaps the losses will recede. 2021 stands to be a remarkable year, particularly in contrast to the previous year. I know many people who will come out of the overwhelming isolation and anxiety of this year with renewed appreciation for “normal days”. I think that’s a gift worth receiving, don’t you?</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 1.6842em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Noto Serif, serif;"><span style="font-size: 19px;">*My thanks to @tomlin_bruce for valuable feedback on the first drafts of this post. Bruce, your optimism and world outlook are priceless. Thank you for showing them to me.</span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 1.6842em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Noto Serif, serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Noto Serif, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdxx2Grv3n1DArB7n2uDJHS7yceDE5eAtcn2LkTRkSwNz0A8pcSw76cMtcX3FrGD2ExFNbqkhyphenhyphenrCHfl0hPcT5y65gfS-vanOWOqRMS3V3PlOnL6vYHCr8hg0PkJ9oYR16fdtxdvrc85LA/s2048/IMG_8111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1615" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdxx2Grv3n1DArB7n2uDJHS7yceDE5eAtcn2LkTRkSwNz0A8pcSw76cMtcX3FrGD2ExFNbqkhyphenhyphenrCHfl0hPcT5y65gfS-vanOWOqRMS3V3PlOnL6vYHCr8hg0PkJ9oYR16fdtxdvrc85LA/s320/IMG_8111.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Noto Serif, serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 19px;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 1.6842em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Noto Serif, serif;"><span style="font-size: 19px;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; color: #333333; font-family: "Noto Serif", serif; font-size: 19px; margin: 0px 0px 1.6842em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></p>Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-14581379208329847532020-12-18T13:40:00.000-08:002020-12-18T13:40:29.100-08:00All the Feels<p>December is the month of all the feels. For me, it's a reflection of an invisible part of what it means to be a human being. First off, I find joy in this seasonal holiday time. The magic, the anticipation, the excitement live everywhere in the community. Lights, music, ho-ho-ho's, smiles, chills - they pop up everywhere and, when lumped together, they amount to a (albeit sometimes muted) joyful feeling. More personally, I find joy when family and friends are around. I'm lucky. In my world there is a lot more warmth and good natured familiarity than there is tension. Joy is birthed from that reality. I suppose holiday decorations, lights, music, festivities and the pursuit of holiday decorations, lights, music, and festivities is the tangible evidence of joy.</p>
<p>But melancholy sneaks in the back door and lingers in the shadows of joy. The mental snapshots of childhood Christmases or the magical Christmases when children lived at my house can make my eyes water and my chest feel constricted. The poignancy that sits on the shelf in the closet of my memory falls off the shelf and threatens to one up joy. I usually catch the box of poignancy as it falls. I often open the box for a moment and consider its contents but, after a bit, I close it up and return it to the shelf. It's touching and evocative to take in those images but I want to get on with happy business.</p>
<p>There is something in that melancholy, however, that I can't name. Perhaps inadequacy works? It's that feeling of "What is it we are trying to do here? What is the point of all this?" I tend to get lost in the feeling that "all of this" is not enough. There is the confusing and sad knowledge that there must be something bigger than this. Or maybe it's the sinking feeling that I might never get it right. Not Christmas, not life. Fortunately, this melancholy business is just part of the package that is December (and life). I can feel melancholy's presence but I can also know that it will move on in the same way that time moves on.</p>
<p>I love the feeling of generosity that is often present during December. People seem to be more aware of the less fortunate and more willing to share what they have. For most people in my world, gift giving is truly more about the gift giving than the gift getting. My peeps think carefully about their peeps and they make deliberate and thoughtful choices for gifts that demonstrate affection and caring. When a gift exchange happens, it's as if the room fills with tangible evidence of reciprocal love.</p>
<p>But there's also the wistfulness that seeps into my awareness as I pack up the detritus of Christmas. As I fold up the wrapping paper and put paper and ribbons into their box , I wonder what presents I'll be wrapping next year and for whom? As I count the leftover Christmas cards and consider if I will need to purchase more next December, I wonder who on my list will be gone at the end of 2020. What will rock my world before I touch these holiday decorations again? What good surprises will appear? What bad surprises will make me cry? What if I am the one who is gone and this is the last time I will handle the Christmas boxes? So much is unknown and it aches to hold only wonder about the future.</p>
<p>December is wrapping up today and along with it the whole holiday collection of feelings. Tomorrow we are dropped into January, the season of resolutions and rain, foggy days and long, cold nights. The January feels tend to lean towards malaise and irritability but the light starts to return and people look longingly for spring. Spring will come and with it a new collection of feels. Isn't that how it is with human beings?</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBo0C_DDscjDSz7hwbDGA5jmlyB1-gZcLHJiJzEbaBDBamLl5qSUyOhbDs7IEnCfl5t6HsQQ2PxPQJhKz4MdQ-7mE9Pq3oemouMy2X3qasQmmFYK2BMzdhA2DFXn2TssussUuBDblx2gk/s2048/santa+fe++8015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1533" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBo0C_DDscjDSz7hwbDGA5jmlyB1-gZcLHJiJzEbaBDBamLl5qSUyOhbDs7IEnCfl5t6HsQQ2PxPQJhKz4MdQ-7mE9Pq3oemouMy2X3qasQmmFYK2BMzdhA2DFXn2TssussUuBDblx2gk/s320/santa+fe++8015.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-26318305767594892942020-12-18T13:24:00.002-08:002020-12-18T13:24:35.747-08:00Still Learning<p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Sometimes I miss my younger self. She really didn’t know what she was doing but she also didn’t especially care. She didn’t really think too far ahead of where she was on that day. Frankly? I don’t think she knew to think too far ahead.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Life was so much in the now back then. She muddled along, without direction, maybe a little perplexed, a little unsure, but she figured there was time to figure it all out. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I think the pace picked up when she became a parent. Then it was no longer just about her.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Now she had committed to a husband and together they had committed to one, and then two, children. Life became more complex. More things to worry about, to sort out, to figure out, to do, to be, to plan for, to be sure about. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">If there was one thing I could tell her, something that she didn’t know then but that I know now, it would be that it all works out.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>All of those things that I worried about back then? They all got sorted out. They all came to some resolution.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Despite my fears, they all worked out. Maybe it didn’t go the way I thought it would go, but it did work out. The problem is that as often as I think I have learned that truth, I discover that I am still learning. It’s disappointing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p2" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">That reminds me of this poem by Derek Mahon.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Everything If Going to Be All Right</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">How should I now be glad to contemplate</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">There will be dying, there will be dying,</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">but there is no need to go into that.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">The poems flow from the hand unbidden</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">and the hidden source is the watchful heart.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">The sun rises in spite of everything<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">and the far cities are beautiful and bright.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I lie here in a riot of sunlight</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">watching the day break and the clouds flying.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">Everything is going to be all right.</span></p>Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-88575311670664566352013-10-07T17:13:00.000-07:002013-10-07T17:15:09.757-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0aGPu1L-DGLlQ1mdqguWGV2-RgCqIgSsT5jpWuHSgruau-G17IS_riFVXJ1QkJ3_d7WdX8mQFgfwkoHaZzoCTEku5ZZGAI7V6QLJ09oDMyIpCDSS0yBFmaDgZj2w6KthhxmF-_tkhhGQ/s1600/IMG_0832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0aGPu1L-DGLlQ1mdqguWGV2-RgCqIgSsT5jpWuHSgruau-G17IS_riFVXJ1QkJ3_d7WdX8mQFgfwkoHaZzoCTEku5ZZGAI7V6QLJ09oDMyIpCDSS0yBFmaDgZj2w6KthhxmF-_tkhhGQ/s320/IMG_0832.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
Hello All,<br />
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It's been a long time since I've posted. It's complicated but then it seems like lots of things about life are complicated. My head is spinning these days and I am not sure when any of it will stop. Maybe never. What I know is that I go to work every day and, in that place and time, I function well. I have clearly defined roles and expectations. I have a purpose. I am on strong footing and solid ground there. <br />
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Away from work, I still function well. I do what I am supposed to be doing but, in the same moment, I am questioning everything. Well, not everything. I have a family that gives me all that I need (both family of origin and family I created). We do have our moments but really? Really, I couldn't ask for better companions on this journey. Beyond family, I am lost. That sounds dramatic but I don't have other words right now. For the past couple of months I have been unwilling to write or paint anything. I have been unwilling to socialize beyond family obligations. I have very nearly been unwilling even to read. And that's what tells me I am in big trouble. Reading is my go to for any pain. And I can't even go there. <br />
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I go no where but into silence. Okay, occasionally I get myself over to the ocean and watch the waves. I go to the dreamscape. Mostly I go to night dreams but sometimes those night dreams invade my day dreams and that is an interesting adventure. I am investigating, touching, feeling the places in my head that I never saw before. I am also experimenting with going to places that are NOT in my head. That's an unfamiliar experience for sure.<br />
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The whole thing sounds so weirdly cosmic. Yeah, I don't have words for it.<br />
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I'll see what happens next.<br />
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Yours for new and better times,<br />
JTOGraciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-16893844452497312852013-07-17T04:00:00.000-07:002013-07-17T04:00:03.612-07:00Some Days <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrphzqzkSYetUgttrkVcL1YXHuIyPyg9gQCLXO53batXu-2XFqscP92Yyw_zDnRjnWyZpEo3cFKcKmDzx5pT4mMl0NNkqXeVxa5SAHSOnP8afdEjXUA7FFSuZO43cscKC91KIqR4F7Pd4/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrphzqzkSYetUgttrkVcL1YXHuIyPyg9gQCLXO53batXu-2XFqscP92Yyw_zDnRjnWyZpEo3cFKcKmDzx5pT4mMl0NNkqXeVxa5SAHSOnP8afdEjXUA7FFSuZO43cscKC91KIqR4F7Pd4/s320/photo.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Okay, if you are not naturally inclined to poetry (or even if you are), just do yourself a favor and try reading this short poem out loud. Try reading it at a measured pace (meaning not racing to get through it). See what pictures come into your head. Just try it. It won't kill you.<br />
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Some Days <br />
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by Billy Collins<br />
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Some days I put the people in their places at the table,<br />
bend their legs at the knees,<br />
if they come with that feature,<br />
and fix them into tiny wooden chairs.<br />
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All afternoon they face one another,<br />
the man in the brown suit,<br />
the woman in the blue dress,<br />
perfectly motionless, perfectly behaved.<br />
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But other days, I am the one<br />
who is lifted up by the ribs,<br />
then lowered into the dining room of a dollhouse<br />
to sit with the others at the long table.<br />
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Very funny,<br />
but how would you like it<br />
if you never knew from one day to the next<br />
if you were going to spend it<br />
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striding around like a vivid god,<br />
your shoulders in the clouds,<br />
or sitting down there amidst the wallpaper,<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM4caS5i_h2TINVmEKN5zf_vyZdKQHdXbK4uYUznIiliCWfEar0uu4-StaFOnN6QjpYeqyFOzVS8Mfw5t7TZvGOZrWQrHeTg7obhyphenhyphenGE-nBn4yF2ypqGgxoeWkUFH_Jh8LzUA_aUMzkVXE/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM4caS5i_h2TINVmEKN5zf_vyZdKQHdXbK4uYUznIiliCWfEar0uu4-StaFOnN6QjpYeqyFOzVS8Mfw5t7TZvGOZrWQrHeTg7obhyphenhyphenGE-nBn4yF2ypqGgxoeWkUFH_Jh8LzUA_aUMzkVXE/s320/photo.JPG" width="240" /></a>staring straight ahead with your little plastic face?<br />
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What do you think? Is this not cool? Do you get what he's talking about? Some days I am on top of the world. I have life nailed and I am doing it well and I am loving it. And then there are all those other days.......with my little plastic face staring straight ahead. <br />
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For another taste of Billy, go <a href="http://sebtown294.blogspot.com/2013/02/homage-to-litany.html">here</a><br />
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<br />Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-23506487929490199482013-07-16T04:00:00.000-07:002013-07-16T04:00:11.074-07:00The Implied Contract In <a href="http://sebtown294.blogspot.com/2013/07/the-thing-you-think-you-cannot-do.html">a previous blog post</a>, I introduced my readers to Dr. Gordon Livingston, a psychiatrist and writer. I had enjoyed his recent book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Thing-You-Think-Cannot-Do/dp/073821552X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1373909315&sr=1-1&keywords=the+thing+you+think+you+cannot+do">The Thing You Think You Cannot Do</a> and wanted to pass along some of his observations of the psychotherapeutic process. <br />
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One of the essays in this collection is entitled "Old Age Is the Revenge of the Ugly". My family (immediate and extended) works hard to support our aging matriarch and so we are all familiar with the issues of the elderly. Pauline will be 91 in a few months. She is determined to live alone and that can be worrisome for all of us. She would be willing to move in with one of her children but, at this time, the obstacles for that are many. So we do the best we can with the situation as it is. <br />
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In this essay, Dr Livingston brings his focus to the fear that may of us have about the aging process. He notes that our date of birth is likely the most important aspect of our identities. As we move past middle age, we are aware of the generation ahead of us and most often do not see a vast number of vibrant and optimistic folks on the road in front of us. Instead, we see lots of examples of aging people who complain of the physical consequences of growing older. They are surprised at their declining vitality and disturbed by the difficulties they encounter in daily life. Livingston proposes that "the old have lost most of what we celebrate in this culture: energy, sexual adventure, a sense of possibilities, and the capacity to change the future."<br />
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Livingston suggests that perhaps there is an implied contract that governs our lives but maybe it was never properly explained to us. Here's the fine print in that contract:<br />
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"If you are lucky enough to grow old, you will be stereotyped and marginalized by society, even by your own children. You will become slow of thought and movement and have to cope with unexplained pains. You will experience unspeakable losses that, finally, will include the loss of yourself. This is the bargain."<br />
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So, go ahead and have your long life but be prepared for a very different existence than the one you experienced as a younger person. Be prepared for marginalization and the feeling that you are being left behind. Be prepared for limited mobility, pain, and heartbreak. I don't quite know what to make of this at the moment. In my current days of relative health and well being, I don't want to imagine a life as limited and dark as my mother's appears to be. But who can say how I might feel at 90 years of age? And what choice do I have anyway?<br />
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What do you think? Does the implied contract about sound familiar to you? Is it one you would take as is? Is there room for negotiation there?Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-54648682385929165062013-07-15T11:58:00.000-07:002013-07-15T16:05:24.286-07:00The Thing You Think You Cannot Do<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Gordon Livingston is a psychiatrist and writer who lives in Maryland. I stumbled across this book of his recently and was intrigued enough by the title to read more. I would not call this a self help book but rather a collection of essays that might give a thoughtful reader something to ponder. Among the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Thing-You-Think-Cannot-Do/dp/073821552X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1373909315&sr=1-1&keywords=the+thing+you+think+you+cannot+do">Amazon reviews</a>, there are some commenters who slam the author for being political. I think that is part of the author's point. He takes some of the psychology behind personal fear and applies it to the national scene. He talks about fear and vulnerability and the impact those have on individuals but he also occasionally segues into how fear can dominate a culture and its leaders.<br />
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I am well acquainted with his political perspective but that wasn't what got my attention. What got my attention was simply that he is an older guy who appears to have lived a rich life. He has met tragedy face to face in his life. His 22 year old son Andrew killed himself while under the grip of a bipolar illness. Seven months later, his six year old son Lucas was diagnosed with acute form of leukemia. Lucas died six months later. Reading a bit about his professional approach to psychiatry and some of his experiences as a psychiatrist made me think I might have something to learn from him. I'm not sure I learned anything new from his book but it did make me ask a few questions and it reminded me of some answers that I already had within me.<br />
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Dr. Livingston gives a nod to the pharmaceutical industry, acknowledging that there are some medications that can be effective for some forms of mental illness What I like, however, is that he also very strongly supports the therapeutic model. He makes a lot of room for courage and resilience to take their places in our lives. Anxiety is high on the list for those seeking psychotherapy. There are so many fears: fear of dying, fear of change, fear of intimacy, fear of loss, fear of failure, fear of time, fear of loneliness, fear of the unknown, and on and on. There may be a biological component to anxiety but that doesn't mean the antidote needs to be pharmacological. I, frankly, don't understand the psychotherapy process but that doesn't matter. What matters is that he apparently does and his work with patients involves developing relationships that foster such virtues as courage and resiliency.<br />
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The author talks about depressed people as people who are fresh out of future dreams. His job, as a psychiatrist, is "to sell hope in individual doses". He listens to people, he questions their fundamental beliefs about themselves, and he works to help them identify and change those parts of themselves that are holding them back from a more satisfying life. It's not a fast track process. Some people come to him seeking advice (and maybe prescriptions for medications) because he is seen as "the expert". He considers it among his harder tasks to convince his patients that the answers must come from within. It is his job to ask the questions that will help the seeker find their own answers. The obstacles come when patients aren't willing to be patient, when they aren't willing to give the process time to come to fruition. Many people are also resistant to this approach because it requires them to take responsibility for themselves. They just want him to fix them. What he has to offer them is hope. And the thing they need in order to accept his offer is courage. I think it must be a complicated dance. And a scary one.Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-60845194595968818482013-07-11T10:17:00.001-07:002013-07-11T10:17:23.758-07:00Fast and Slow<br />
On my professional path to where I am now, I spent a chunk of time as the orchestrator (aka teacher) in a K - 2 classroom. I had the pleasure of guiding children for their first three years of public school education. Unless their sibling was in the class, I generally first met my new students as eyes wide open five year olds. I got to hold them for three years, taking them from that pre-literate place to thriving chapter book readers. From September to June, we had wonderful days together. There was a daily rhythm in our world complete with songs, art, outside play, tons of books, math stuff, writers' workshop, hands on science exploration and lots of (what I thought of as) the social curriculum. That was simply time devoted to learning who we each were and how to get along with each other. I don't know what it is about little kids but their observations, their reality, their freshness completely capture me. I enjoyed planning our days together and I loved watching their faces and their reactions to what unfolded in our world.<br />
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Parents were an integral part of that world. I needed them in order to make everything happen that I wanted to have happen. I needed parents who would sit on the rug and explore tangrams with children or guide a lesson about ladybugs or take a small group outside and play with jump ropes while I sat at the reading table helping children learn to make sense out of letters and words. I loved the additional adults in the room too just for the shared adult perspective and humor, Most parents trusted me to guide their children but sometimes there was some anxiety about a child's academic progress in the class. I completely got that. After all, these parents were turning over their most precious jewels to me for six hours a day. Parents wanted to know that their child's time was well used. <br />
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One thing I did know clearly was that children cannot be rushed. They will come to places in their own time. That didn't mean that I wasn't alert to possible obstacles that the school could assist with (a referral for special ed services, for example) but my professional eye often could sense when a child simply needed a slower time frame. She was going to get there (reading chapter books, for example) but she was taking the scenic route. Somewhere I came across this phrase and it fit perfectly:<br />
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Recently I had cause to return to this notion of taking slow to grow. Oddly, what occurred to me is that it isn't just kids who need slow in order to grow. We adults often need the same thing to reach new places in our lives. The current culture is jammed with activity and expectations. Days go by fast. How many balls can we juggle? How many things can we check off our to do lists? How fast can we go? The flip side is what happens when we slow it way down. What can we see and what can we hear when we meander instead of sprint? It's no earth shatteringly new idea. But it is one worth considering. I, for one, plan to experiment with more slow and less fast.<br />
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How about you? Where do you find slow in your life? Are you drawn to fast or to slow? Would you like more of one or the other?Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-48970889921019437692013-07-03T04:00:00.000-07:002013-07-03T08:18:46.976-07:00In Your Own Skin Skin - interesting stuff. It's the largest organ in the body. It has several essential functions, including protecting the muscles, bones, ligaments and other organs. Skin serves as a barrier, preventing pathogens from getting in and excessive fluids from escaping. It separates the inner and the outer world.<br />
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I never gave much thought to skin when I was a kid or even a teenager. It got scraped, black and blued, and even chopped open from time to time. One of my charming older brothers who shall remain nameless even smashed open the skin on my head with a baseball bat once. It was an accident. Really, it was! I remember from time to time examining my skin for some reason or another and actually liking it. I remember being 15 and being thrilled to return from the beach with the classic and cool bronze tan. As a 20 something, I remember liking my skin a lot. I was spared much of the agony of acne and my skin really was relatively flawless. No makeup applied. Self respecting hippie girls didn't do that. That was then.<br />
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Here's the shocking part: I don't like it so much now. You knew that was coming. It no longer meets the cultural standard for attractive. It still does an awesome job of protecting and containing stuff but it is multi toned and, yeah, not so smooth. There's no bronze now, only stupid patches of brown pigment. I've got some scars here and there and some veins that might scare little kids. These days I do apply a little of this and a little of that (emphasis on little) but am not interested in expensive skin care products or procedures. My skin continues to serve me well and I deal with its changing landscape.<br />
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What caught my attention recently was the phrase "comfortable in your own skin". Back in those days when I liked it, I can't say that I felt comfortable in my own skin. Those teen and early adult years were about figuring how who it was who really lived in that skin. I needed time to get to know her. I was awfully busy checking to see if she made the grade. Was her school and work performance of the highest quality? Did she dress and look right (whatever the current "right" was)? Did she say the right things and laugh the right way and blah blah blah? I don't think I was a whole lot different than most younger people. I know there are a few people who grow up feeling comfortable in their own skin and I think they are very fortunate. But I wasn't one of them.<br />
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I guess it comes to mind because I finally feel as if I am comfortable in my own skin. Yeah, it's not so pretty maybe but it finally fits really well. I have an ease now that took some serious years of living to acquire. I still have lots of expectations of myself and I am no where near ready to turn into a frumpy woman, but, on my good days I can also be much more accepting of me in the present moment. I am doing the best I can with whatever comes my way. My skin might be a bit lumpy or crinkled but my eyes are pretty damn shiny and I can sparkle just as much as I did when I was 21.<br />
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How about you? How's your skin fit you these days?<br />
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Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-19868756426187931242013-07-02T04:00:00.000-07:002013-07-02T04:00:08.030-07:00Got It! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Guess what? There IS one thing on <a href="http://sebtown294.blogspot.com/2013/06/bucket-lists.html">my bucket list</a>! Ha! I fooled you (although not intentionally). I have always wanted to live at the beach and, before I die, I would like to make good on that. <div>
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The ocean is a powerful draw for me and always has been. As children, we went on day trips to the California beach often and every summer there was at least one beach camping trip. My college years were spent close to Santa Cruz and the Monterey area. I went to the beach all the time. Sometimes it was to the Santa Cruz Boardwalk or the Monterey/Carmel beaches. But just as often, I trekked out to the more remote beaches between Santa Cruz and San Francisco. Those days were always renewing. sometimes adventurous, always enjoyable. Later I ended up living north of the Golden Gate and still spend plenty of days during all seasons of the year at the beach.</div>
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Maybe twenty years ago, I seriously considered relocating permanently to a beach locale. In order to be affordable, I would likely need to move to a fairly remote beach area. Fairly remote means few jobs and that leads to no money for rent and food for the family. Best to set that idea way over there to the side until kids are launched.</div>
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Fast forward twenty years. Kids are launched. I'm still working but I can think about some other options. Here's the thing. I like my house. I like my neighborhood. I don't really want to deal with buying and selling property and I am not sure I want to be in the beach climate 24/7. Anyone who knows me knows my thoughts on fog and gray. </div>
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But, here's the creative part. Who says "living at the beach" has to mean relocating and living all day every day at the beach? How about this? How about if I were to really live at the beach for, say, one month a year? How about I keep my house in my neighborhood but I go live at the beach for intervals? Maybe one year I live on a NorCal beach for the month of January (one of the best times to visit NorCal beaches, I might add). Maybe the next year, I find a place to stay on the big island of Hawaii for the month of February. Perhaps the next year in March, I try Cape Hatteras in North Carolina. And the pattern continues: Gold Beach, Oregon, the Jersey shore, Cape Cod, San Diego, Key West, Florida, Acadia, Maine, you get the idea.</div>
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Do you have a favorite beach? Give me some words about it, please.</div>
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Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-41071279019300042552013-07-01T04:00:00.000-07:002013-07-01T04:00:01.125-07:00Tastes the Same<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"The sea is nothing but a library of all the tears in history."</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Lemony Snicket</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Okay, I'm putting it right out there. All of my life I have been afraid of tears. They say I am weak. They say there is something wrong with me. Buck up, baby. Show nothing lest you be seen.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Here's the rule: you can cry. Just not in front of anyone. Okay, maybe in front of your best friend but that's it. Cry at any other time and you are less than. My parents did not cry, my older brothers did not cry. As a matter of fact, if you did cry, the response was, "Stop crying, young lady, or I will give you something to cry about."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> One exception to the rule is death. Death is too big to hide from. I even saw my dad tear up when his mother was buried. Tears are, indeed, a surrender to the power of death. Tears are sadness, anger, frustration, happiness made real. Made visible. Tears connect us humans in all of our deepest places. Exposing those places? What a risk!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Lately I've been thinking that I might want to change the rule. Maybe tears actually signal strength? Maybe they say "Yes, yes, I know my pain. And, yes, I know your pain. You are not alone. Nor am I."</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> After all, let's get real. Pain is a link <a href="http://sebtown294.blogspot.com/2013/06/to-be-human.html">for all humans</a>. For me to go inside and then deliver to the public my heart and soul? That takes strength. Maybe even courage. My tears connect me and I can be known. Scary.</span></div>
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You're not alone<br />
I'm with you, I'm lonely too<br />
What's that song<br />
can't be sung by two?<br />
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A broken home, a broken heart<br />
isolated and afraid<br />
Open up this is a raid<br />
I wanna get it through to you<br />
You're not alone<br />
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You're not alone, every night<br />
I stand in your place<br />
Every tear on every face<br />
Tastes the same<br />
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A broken home, a broken heart</div>
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isolated and afraid</div>
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Open up this is a raid</div>
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I wanna get it through to you</div>
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You're not alone</div>
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A broken home, a broken heart</div>
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there's no need to be afraid</div>
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Open up this is a raid</div>
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I wanna get it through to you</div>
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You're not alone</div>
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I wanna get it through to you</div>
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You're not alone</div>
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Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-79318131759638695972013-06-29T04:00:00.000-07:002013-06-29T05:12:37.630-07:00On the Bench Again<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">If loneliness is the disease, the story is the cure. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">- Richard Ford</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnmLJ3gvI4eWyZojytNh0toMwo5LVDG_X5q2E2MA-TWYG9MioTw3NYJHeU1-x61aL9VpkENsSE5MeB2dWTKkjXT4sREGD5NmgSHA9-Tvw_YtvDFyDwsAXx41ESrzfoBzBzHsIIHuM7fgY/s640/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnmLJ3gvI4eWyZojytNh0toMwo5LVDG_X5q2E2MA-TWYG9MioTw3NYJHeU1-x61aL9VpkENsSE5MeB2dWTKkjXT4sREGD5NmgSHA9-Tvw_YtvDFyDwsAXx41ESrzfoBzBzHsIIHuM7fgY/s320/photo.JPG" width="240" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> There are lots of folks who sit <a href="http://sebtown294.blogspot.com/2012/09/on-bench.html">on the bench in my neighborhood</a> but the quietest one, and one I highly favor, is the observer. He generally straddles the end of the bench, chin in hand, eyes covered in RayBans. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">His curly dark hair is always bunched under a hat, often a fedora but occasionally he sports the black and orange of the home team. This dude just watches. He's not above a chuckle and a high five when a passerby or someone else on the bench makes a remark but his primary goal in life appears to be contemplating the world. He notices the details: the cop waving to the little kid, the punk on the bike chomping his gum, the sexy lady singing to herself while walking downtown . He hears that rat dog whining, the engine on that 1990 silver Toyota knocking, the blender in the kitchen across the street making margaritas. It's all there. Recorded for future reference.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> Yes, what isn't obvious from the bench is that the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">observer is also a recorder. What he reckons is that everyone has a story. Everyone. Sometimes people know their story and sometimes they don't. Not yet, anyway. And maybe never. He is curious about their stories but he knows enough to realize that you can't force the telling of the story. So he watches. He lets people tell their own details, even if they can't hear their story. He waits for the unfolding. And records what he knows. In the stillness of <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/rives_on_4_a_m.html">4:00 in the morning</a>, the stories fall out of the observer and onto the keyboard. And he feels connected.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> </span>Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-67825666692692918182013-06-28T04:00:00.000-07:002013-06-28T04:00:02.760-07:00Bucket Lists I don't have one. A bucket list, that is. You know, like in that movie <b>The Bucket List</b>? Jack Nicholson, Morgan Freeman? Old guys trying to do the things they want to do before they "kick the bucket"?<div>
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I don't quite get it. I get lists and sometimes I even make lists but I don't have any check off list of what needs to be accomplished before I fold into the mystic. That seems so huge and so transient to me. What I want right now is, in all probability, <b>not</b> going to be what I want in six months or a year, let alone in ten years. I guess you can make the list and change it a lot but what exactly is the point of the bucket list? Do you make one because you might forget what it is you want to do? Or is there some internal satisfaction in checking off the old list. Just wondering.</div>
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Do you have a bucket list? Tell me one thing that's on it. Make it something that doesn't have to do with travel, if you can.</div>
Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-14166378129135647142013-06-27T04:00:00.000-07:002013-06-27T04:00:10.960-07:00Into the Mystic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I stumbled over some vintage Van Morrison the other day on my way to somewhere else. Isn't that how it often is? On your way to one place, you find the real treasure along the path? The cosmos gets us like that.<br />
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I hadn't listend to this little piece of Van in a long time and it knocked me over when it fell from the sky. Thing is, you know, I am still wrapping my head around my friend's death and then this little wondersong stops me in my spinning. It is such a powerful, sensual, and haunting almost hymn. Some might even claim magical and spiritual. What I know to be true is that it made me pause for a minute and just be. That's a good thing in my book.<br />
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Life is finite. I know that: "We were born before the the wind, also younger than the sun"<br />
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The call is to live it to the fullest: "Smell the sea and feel the sky, let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic."<br />
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Make room for love: "I will rock your gypsy soul, just like back in the days of old."<br />
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And make room for acceptance: "We will magnificently fold into the mystic."<br />
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The thing is, I hold Van Morrison's music close. Common Irish roots? Don't know, doesn't matter. His music makes me feel alive. This is one song that I wouldn't mind hearing someday, on a warm summer evening, as I say goodbye to this world that has held me for lots of years.<br />
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<br />
We were born before the wind<br />
Also younger than the sun<br />
Ere the bonnie boat was won<br />
As we sailed into the mystic<br />
<br />
Hark, now hear the sailors cry<br />
Smell the sea and feel the sky<br />
Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic<br />
<br />
And when that fog horn blows<br />
I will be coming home<br />
And when that fog horn blows<br />
I wanna hear it, I don't have to fear it<br />
<br />
And I wanna rock your gypsy soul<br />
Just like back in the days of old<br />
Then magnificently we will fold into the mystic<br />
<br />
When that fog horn blows<br />
You know I will be coming home<br />
And when that fog horn whistle blows<br />
I gotta hear it, I don't have to fear it<br />
<br />
And I wanna rock your gypsy soul<br />
Just like back in the days of old<br />
And together we will float into the mystic<br />
<br />
Too late to stop now?Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-11202068450655858522013-06-26T04:00:00.000-07:002013-06-26T04:00:08.067-07:00The (Body) Machine Shop To my dismay, I have become way too familiar with the physical therapy clinic. Because I am a highly active person who also happens to have inherited arthritic tendencies, I have become a fairly regular visitor at PT over the past ten years. The sessions have sometimes been related to the arthritis issues but sometimes are a result of overuse or accidents that have occurred because I like to move. No matter why I am going there, I am grateful that I have access to physical therapy (even if it is a literal pain and a disruption to my day). I am also finding the clinic to be an interesting classroom for the study of human beings.<br />
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When I walk in for any appointment, I take in the big room with all the equipment and the various combinations of therapist/patient at work. It's odd to me that, although this is a medical establishment, privacy is not a priority. The room is open and the conversations are accessible for anyone in the room. My current therapy is entirely related to the joint replacement surgery that I had on my right hand <a href="http://sebtown294.blogspot.com/2013/03/right-hand-returns-sort-of.html">in early March</a>. I am primarily ensconced at a table in the "hand section" of the office. I mostly sit at the table while my hand is massaged and manipulated, electrified and examined, heated and cooled. I do WWF, or make with the chit chat with the therapist or sometimes other patients who are also having their hands entertained. But mostly? Mostly I just watch the people there.<br />
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People come in with their broken body parts, each broken in its own way and each significant to the owner. But to the physical therapists, each body part seems to be just that - a broken part of the machine. Isolate the problem and attack. Most of the PT's, frankly, look bored. As in, here I am repeating these same old knee exercises for, what, the 5th time today? the 10th time this week? the 100th time this year? They stare off out the window or make jokes with the other PT's while their victim groans their way through the exercises. <br />
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The patients are a diverse lot. They are a collection of bodies, more over 40 years old than under 40. Most seem perplexed or uncomfortable with the exercises. It's almost as if they don't know that part of their body very well. That last description includes me. The patients come in all sizes and shapes. Very few fit the cultural profile for attractive but they all come with bodies that are functional and in need of some kind of repair. I observe some patients just resting on tables or enduring (enjoying?) some hands on therapy. Awkward. Some are working out on machines or with big exercise balls or long rubber tubing. Yes, you read that right. Long rubber tubing that you use to stretch and strengthen muscles (it has been part of some PT sessions in my past). Most appear not particularly graceful nor comfortable with what they are asked to do but they plod their way through it. I am more interested in what their faces say than in what their bodies do. Faces say things like, "You want me to do what?" or "Well, this is fun!" or "Is it time to quit yet?". Or maybe those are just the thoughts in my own head.<br />
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When I walk into the room, I tend to distance myself from the others, as if somehow I am above this. What's that about? I am self conscious and wonder what other people watchers are noting about me. I don't know why this place makes me highly uncomfortable. Perhaps it speaks to vulnerability and flaws? That makes sense to me.<br />
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What's your take on physical therapy? Thumbs up or thumbs down?<br />
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<br />Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-38524215942169936292013-06-25T04:00:00.000-07:002013-06-25T04:00:06.562-07:00Saying No I had a dream the other night which engages me on several levels. In the dream I am at a medical facility. There is a group of 6 or 8 doctor types gathered around me. They are telling me that they need to do some kind of highly invasive procedure that will be quite painful. They tell me that there is no guarantee that they will be able to gather any useful information but they MIGHT get some answers to some questions they have. They want me to sign the paper so they can go ahead with this. I very calmly look at them and tell them no. No, I don't want that procedure. What? They are aghast! What do you mean no? This is what we have to do in order to attempt to fix you. You will have to submit to this procedure or we can not help you any more. You might die. Okay then, I say calmly. So be it.<br />
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Weird, heh? I like that I say no in the dream. I like that I make the decision for myself. No one is going to railroad me into something that doesn't work for me. I suppose I could be seen as foolish. After all, they are trying to "fix" me. I should comply with them. But I am not interested in the painful, invasive procedure. Not if there isn't a payoff. I don't like their attitude. It is as if they know what's best for me and I should take their word for it. Guess what, peeps? I am the only expert on me.<br />
<br />
I suppose part of this dream might stem from the sadness and frustration I feel about my friend Lesly's recent death. Lesly and her family fought with cancer for over three years. If she had known from the start how this was going to end, would they have fought the battle so long? The last six months were especially difficult, fighting always for some, if not improvement, at least pause in the cancer's progression. Such a hard time and yet the ending came anyway. Far too soon. Who knows what avenue I would take in a similar situation but I wonder if I would carry on as long as Lesly did. <br />
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<br />Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-6034683942082178082013-06-24T04:00:00.000-07:002013-06-24T06:21:07.622-07:00How About That 2013? (Part 2) On January 1, 2013, I made a list of <a href="http://sebtown294.blogspot.com/2013/01/what-to-do-with-2013.html">fifty things I might do in 2013</a>. These were not meant to be high pressure goals but just random thoughts about what lay ahead in the new year. I checked in <a href="http://sebtown294.blogspot.com/2013/03/how-about-that-2013.html">in March</a> to see how that list was looking in the light of spring. Now it's time to see what the mid way point in 2013 looks like. I'm not going to review everything on the list but I'd like to consider three things that I have actually done and three things that I might still choose to do.<br />
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In March I celebrated the progress made on kitchen improvements and hand surgery. Neither of those items can be completely checked off the list as done but they continue to move forward. Item number 12 seems to be a focus for now: paring down possessions (see <a href="http://sebtown294.blogspot.com/2013/06/dump-it-all.html">Dump It All</a>). That feels important and freeing. I know I am also well aware of item number 13: avoid accumulating even more possessions. In April, I reveled in the stunning peace and beauty that is <a href="http://sebtown294.blogspot.com/2013/04/pressing-pause.html">Yosemite</a>. Those few days definitely take the prize for being the highlight of 2013 so far. I enthusiastically placed item number 7 on the list in January. I was so jazzed to plan to participate in the A to Z Challenge. That tower of enthusiasm <a href="http://sebtown294.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-end.html">crashed</a> as April got under way and I moved on. Some things just don't go the way you planned, you know?</div>
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Reflecting in June on the list made in January makes me keenly aware of how much things change. For some unknown reason, many of the items on the list don't capture my attention these days. So be it. Maybe they will come into focus again later but not now. I am experimenting with item number 20: accept the darkness. I would make it much broader now. I am learning to accept a lot of things as the way it is. Not good, not bad. Just the way it is. Number 28 (Learn what it means to make and apply my own rules to myself) seems to be a theme for these summer months. I wonder where that will go. I suppose it will be influenced by number 38: engage in frequent and random conversations with myself. Interesting thought, that one. Sometimes I feel as if I am the only one available for me to talk to. The people with whom I might want to talk are, for lots of reasons, just not available right now. I am an observer, a recorder, and a reflector. I have to know that a person wants to engage in real conversation before I begin to share any of those self to self conversations. Real conversation means they will talk back about things that matter.</div>
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In theory, I will check in again in September. I expect that number 47 (Look for surprises) might be on the agenda.</div>
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Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-25065988511379753462013-06-22T04:00:00.000-07:002013-06-22T05:46:16.076-07:00Speaking of Anger Last night my good friend and neighbor Lesly died. She had been diagnosed with cancer in the fall of 2009 and lived the ups and horrible downs of life with cancer ever since. There is a huge hole in the world this morning with Lesly's departure. She was a smart, creative, caring, and fun person. She leaves a beautiful family mourning her death. Her presence in the community was quiet, helpful, and always accompanied by good wishes. She was a highly valued employee of FedEx and the customers along her route cheered every time she returned to work after facing yet another round of chemo. We will miss her.<br />
<br />
Lesly was the parent of two children. Her insurance with FedEx paid for not only her medical care but that of her children. She accrued retirement benefits and those should be useful for her family, right? "Should be" - operative words. Lesly was not married. In fact, Lesly was legally not allowed to marry her life partner. Even though Stacey and Lesly were committed to each other for 27 years and had two now teenaged children together, they could not legally marry. A very practical outcome of this situation is that Stacey cannot access Lesly's retirement account. It died along with Lesly. Social Security benefits died with Lesly too. That enrages me. <br />
<br />
I am married and have two children. If my husband dies, I am entitled to his retirement and SS benefits. Stacey and Lesly would have been married if the love they had for each other was recognized by the state of California. Stacey, Clare, and Ian would have at least had some kind of financial security if that marriage had been recognized. I understand that some people hold onto a belief that marriage is a union only between a man and a woman. Explain to me, please, how Stacey and Lesly's union cannot be recognized as the marriage that it was. Certainly people are entitled to their own beliefs and, trite as it sounds, if you don't support gay marriage then simply don't choose that option for yourself. But it is wrong to deny benefits to couples like Stacey and Lesly simply because your religious beliefs stand in the way of such a union for you.<br />
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<br />Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-9596046624585095442013-06-21T04:00:00.000-07:002013-06-21T04:00:04.396-07:00The Rhetoric of Pop Culture That was the name of a course I took when I was an undergraduate in the field of Speech -Communication. That class focused on the movies, music and tv of its time and I really enjoyed it. I was pop culture savvy at the time and thrived on all things contemporary.<br />
<br />
I am still intrigued with pop culture but feel so removed from it. I suspect that this distance is common with people who are old enough to remember vividly the Summer of Love but that doesn't make it acceptable to me. How does this happen? How is it that younger people can be infused with pop culture while older people are distanced? Or are they?<br />
<br />
Really, I want to know this. I want to know how I can rejoin the popular culture. Or is it even possible? I get distracted by a demanding profession. That profession does involve teenagers so you would think that might help and it does - a little. I also get overwhelmed with the abundance in the culture. How do you make time to stay tuned in to new music, new technology, new movies especially when your first impulse is to read and do physical things outside? Do I make myself not read the contemporary fiction and non fiction (leaning the most toward biography, sociology, and philosophy) but rather read lots of blogs and on line periodicals? And I'm not talking about being plugged into celebrities. I don't really care about them. I am talking about being plugged into the ideas that make the culture alive now.<br />
<br />
For those of you that fancy the pop culture, what is the route I should take? Four years ago I secured a part time job at an Apple store mostly because I wanted to develop Apple acumen. I did. I gained a lot of knowledge but I also wore myself out (I was still working my "real" job). That attempt at staying current was fun but too much. My best connections to now include Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Wired, The Atlantic, The Rumpus, other websites, and, of course, my own kids who are in their 20's and plugged in. What avenues would any of you recommend for touching the ideas that float around the culture these days?Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-14532272305240513532013-06-20T04:00:00.000-07:002013-06-20T04:00:07.487-07:00News to Me I love being a life long learner. And the lessons are so all over the place. Here's a subject that I am finally getting around to really studying. I don't want to take the final exam but I am curious to see how I would do with it.<br />
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The subject is anger. I grew up pulling anger out of my pocket every couple of weeks when the nuns would drag us over to the church on Friday afternoons for confession. It was my "go to" sin. I could always count on having at least three or four episodes of anger that I could point to and claim as my sins for the week. Anger was a bad thing. NOT okay to be angry. And I was always angry. Angry at my mom for making me do chores. Angry at Mark the Park for calling me Dog. Angry at my sister for messing with my stuff. Angry at the other kids at school because they had nice stuff and I didn't. Angry at the stupid priest (horrors!) for embarrassing me because the car pool made me late for the required attendance at morning Mass. Angry at having to go to Mass. Angry at having to go to school. Angry angry angry.<br />
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And here is the unbelievable part. I never lost that piece that says anger is bad. I spent much of my life yelling at myself for being angry. Bad person. Get rid of that anger and do it right now. You have no right to be angry. Get rid of it, I said! NOW! Guess what? I am only now learning that anger is really NOT a bad thing. Anger is a feeling and it just is. Sure, you might do something when angry that could be harmful or mean but anger, in and of itself, is not bad. What a revelation. Amazing.<br />
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So what I am learning now is that it's okay to make a place for anger in my world. I can feel angry and notice where I feel it. I can observe anger and maybe paint or write about it (or not). Then I can decide what, if anything, I want to do about it. But the big lesson here is that anger is not the bad guy. And I am not the bad person for feeling anger. This is all new to me, folks. I am not sure how this new knowledge is going to play out in my days but I am curious to find out.<br />
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How about you? Are you comfortable making a place for anger in your world?Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-22436741354496652932013-06-19T04:00:00.000-07:002013-06-19T07:13:54.490-07:00More About StuffWarning:<br />
I'm going to whine more about stuff.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCD5wrTJCd8pWdycrEqlRQWiLGyGu4mVTmEhURnC6JY-i7Fpk8-T_4SJqs42HE50iFA8wuov_QZgs3SP1pDAQ5IIgzhHnvPoiNg6kid7a0AkKPhcldrRETMmDvY2CiUMgrPOwHVDSnrXo/s1600/HousePics+007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCD5wrTJCd8pWdycrEqlRQWiLGyGu4mVTmEhURnC6JY-i7Fpk8-T_4SJqs42HE50iFA8wuov_QZgs3SP1pDAQ5IIgzhHnvPoiNg6kid7a0AkKPhcldrRETMmDvY2CiUMgrPOwHVDSnrXo/s320/HousePics+007.jpg" width="320" /></a>I like my house in the neighborhood. I like that I have room in this house to leave all my paints and <br />
works in progress on a table. I like that the kitchen is spacious and airy, that we have an extra room that makes it easy and convenient when we have guests (especially when our 28 year old son comes home for the weekend). I like that RR can watch baseball in the living room and I can retire to our bedroom at the back of the house to read and/or nap. I like that the dining room table does dual duty as my writing space and yet it can open way out for family events that require space. We have a small wall closet in our bedroom but, in the upstairs loft area (that provides RR with office space), there is a catch all closet where off season clothes can be stored. I like it. There are two bathrooms in the house. Do I need to say how convenient that is?<br />
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I like the generous half acre parcel in town that allows us room for fruit trees, vegetable garden, flowers, and a fenced dog run.<br />
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So where's the whine? That would be maintenance. All these "things" need to be tended to. I could just ignore the those dirty (but beautiful) south facing windows. I could allow the crumbs and dog hair to simply sit in the corners and sulk. I could let the kitchen counters and bathroom sinks gather gunk at the faucets. I could let the leaves on the house plants sink with accumulated detritus and just say I enjoy the dusty leaf look. Ditto the blinds on the bedroom windows. Don't you think dust just adds some texture and interest to the otherwise boring cream colored blinds? That yard is lovely but, unless you prefer the natural look, you need to spend hours on the raking and sweeping. Regular maintenance (dishes, laundry and occasional sweep of the floor) I can handle. It's the serious vacuuming, dusting, clean the bathroom, wash the windows, blah blah blah, that I resent. And get mad at myself for not doing. If I didn't have the house and the stuff, I wouldn't have this discussion with myself. If I lived in a small, even condo sort of place, I wouldn't have to maintain it all. Or, I could just stop maintaining the house to "decent" standards and do what I want with my time. My choice.<br />
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What do you do?<br />
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<br />Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-57823286495825868462013-06-18T04:00:00.000-07:002013-06-18T04:00:01.702-07:00Dump It All<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;">What the F word is all this STUFF I have?</span><br />
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I am in a toss-it-all-out sort of place.</div>
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Just dump this and that.</div>
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Dump anything you don't use on a regular basis.</div>
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Dump books that don't speak to you any more.</div>
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Dump clothes that don't fit or don't feel right.</div>
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Dump pieces of furniture that just take up space.</div>
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Dump all the friggin dishes and kitchen stuff that you don't use anyway.</div>
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Dump the art supplies that you bought and don't use anymore.</div>
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Dump the stuff that is in the bathroom that was purchased years ago and never used since.</div>
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Dump the flower pots that sit empty out on the deck.</div>
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Dump the letters and cards from long ago. </div>
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Okay, keep the ones from people who have the power to break your heart.</div>
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Dump the kid stuff from years ago - games and puzzles. Dump it.</div>
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Dump the self medicating stuff that doesn't work anyway.</div>
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Dump anything where the expiration date was pre 2013. Duh.</div>
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Dump blankets and pillows and linens that sit in closets.<br />
Dump the Walkmans and the worthless printers.<br />
Dump the the tangle of computer/electrical cords and the cameras that require film.</div>
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Dump it all.</div>
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Make the place empty</div>
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That's what I want.</div>
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I want to be empty except for core essentials.</div>
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But then what happens?</div>
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What happens when everything is empty?</div>
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Will I get lonely?</div>
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Will I fill it up with new shit?<br />
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Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-37783623078376401742013-06-17T04:00:00.000-07:002013-06-17T10:37:50.864-07:00Bye Bye, Airlines I'm not saying that I will never fly again but I am emphatically saying that, until something changes in the Land of Corporate Greed, I don't plan to buy any more airline tickets. I am on strike against the airlines. Last January, in the dark and cold of winter, I thought a trip to Chicago in the summer would be fun. Now that June has arrived, I wonder what the heck I was thinking back then? Now, a trip to Chicago sounds exhausting and expensive. A big expense (in my budget) is the $330 airline ticket. <br />
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Here's the question: Can anyone out there give me any reason why the airlines get to be so unreasonable about the return or exchange of airline tickets? A reasonable explanation will have nothing to do with "national security". It infuriates me that I can buy a ticket on January 4th, 2013 for a flight on June 27th, 2013 and, no matter what happens, I am stuck with that ticket. I don't get why there can't be a refund on tickets purchased so far in advance? Oh, that's right, Corporate Greed. Someone will throw out "national security" as an explanation but that is so lame. If I get my ticket refunded then my name is out of the system. Where's the problem? Hotels will often have a 72 hour cancellation policy (money refunded if cancellation is within 72 hours of scheduled stay). Why can't there be a 72 hour window in which an airline refund is <b>not</b> allowed rather than a forever window? Why do airlines get to rip the public off like this? <br />
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Equally appalling is that I can't even give that ticket to someone else. This is infuriating. Again, I don't buy any "national security" excuse. If I want to give my ticket to my friend, why can't I contact the airline and have the name changed on the ticket? When boarding, the ticket holder will still have to show photo id. What is the deal on this? Right, Corporate Greed.<br />
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In addition to these horrible business practices, the airlines stuff people and bags into those planes. They also have the nerve to charge you for your suitcase. Yes, it infuriates me. They try to sell you cardboard that passes as food for some ridiculous price and, in general, act as if they are all that so that you can get from one place to another in a timely manner.<br />
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As for me? I've decided that, for the most part, "a timely manner" doesn't matter any more. I like travel. I like broadening my world and exploring other places and ways of living. But, I refuse to support the airline industry. I will go by car, train, boat, foot, or bike. I will not plan to fly again.Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7076749898853972198.post-22153539224012255692013-06-16T05:34:00.000-07:002013-06-16T05:34:50.903-07:00Tattoos and Scars<br />
<div style="font: 16.0px Times; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>"I don't want to die without any scars."</b></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Chuck Palahniuk - The Fight Club</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> A blogging friend of mine recently wrote about the design he has selected for his tattoo. He seemed excited about the upcoming piece of body art and asked his audience for their thoughts on tattoos. Did they have one? Had they ever thought about getting one?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> Though I went through a phase when I considered getting a tattoo, I never did and, frankly, I'm glad now that I didn't. Tattoos are permanent and that bothers me. I would have to care passionately about something to have it etched into my skin. Everything changes so what is important now may well fade in importance as I move on through life. Do I really want to always be reminded of who I was back then?</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> I also don't like the colors that I have seen on tattoos. For the most part, they are creepy to me. Perhaps that is simply related to being a little kid and noting tattoos on people (mostly men) who seemed frightening to me. The colors seem dark and haunted.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> I will say that I do like scars. I have several and I wear them proudly. They say to me that I endured (and, in one case, survived) major pain and they mean I was, at one time, broken but now am functional (if not whole) again. Tattoos? Tattoos don't have that meaning to me. About the only tattoo that appeals to me now would be one that I would get to physically hold a loved one who has died.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"> But, that is me. Hats off to anyone who wants and gets a tattoo for their own reasons.</span></div>
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Graciewildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00142582724233027386noreply@blogger.com12