On Tuesday night I attended a delightful party for my brother-in-law, Sam, who turned 66. It was also his last day of work. Once he turned in his keys he was officially retired. Friends and family came to wish him well on his double celebration.
There must have been close to 30 people there that evening. We spilled out of the house on to the deck and into the garden where umbrellas and a tent had been set up. I moved from group to group, getting caught up with old friends and making new acquaintances. Most of the people there, with the exception of Sam's children/step-children and the grandkids, were at or near retirement age. So there was no shortage of like-minded conversation going on.
I met one lovely, older woman who said that she hoped Sam would be as happy in his retirement as she had been. She had taken an early retirement from IBM 20 years ago and had never regretted one day or had one moment of boredom. She tried to get a swim in at the Y every day, did a great deal of sewing and other needlework for friends and family gifts, read a lot, worked in her garden, and often just enjoyed sitting in silence and becoming one with the world around her. She was active in her church and generally was in good health. I told her that being only semi-retired (working 3 days a week), I totally understood where she was coming from and longed for the day when I could finally call myself a full-time retiree, having the time to pursue my interests and learn new ones.
So many folks in our age group that I meet are afraid of retirement. For some it is a financial issue and unfortunately in our current economy it is true that many will have to work longer than they had planned in order to pay the bills. However I meet people all the time who believe that once they retire, they are done, that old age and death will come crashing down on them like a giant wave and take them away. I always want to ask these individuals if there isn't anything that they have ever wanted to do, or wanted to learn, or wanted to experience, but have put it off because of work and family commitments. Nine out of ten will admit that there is. Then I ask them, "then why don't you do it?"
The "R" word I am referring to in the title of this post is not "retirement," but, "Regret," with a capital R. I can't think of a worse ending to a life spent taking care of others than to regret all the things they never did or accomplished for themselves. They regret not taking that trip, learning that skill or craft, taking up that hobby, finding that long-lost love, taking that first step outside of their comfort zone and not only learning to fly, but to soar. Closing ourselves off from the world because we've reached a certain age, or because our employers have taken our keys and ushered us out of the door is a choice, not an inevitability. Sure, there are things about getting older that we won't have a choice about like the fact that our bodies are slowing down, our hair is getting grey, and the wrinkles are going to appear sooner or later. Everything else is a choice: where we go, what we do, what we eat, how we take care of our bodies, our minds and our spirits. I don't want to have one moment of regret when the time for my transition comes. I want to look back at my life with a big smile on my face that says "I did it all, and I did it my way."
My latest choice is to learn how to become proficient with a computer. I want to learn to create newsletters and websites, Skype with my grandsons and friends across the country, and all the other neat things a computer can do. I also have paths yet to be hiked, lessons on cooking with tofu yet to be learned, and a host of other things that keep my mind and spirit alive and engaged. I'm looking forward to getting those 3 days a week back so I can say with relish, and not regret, "yes, I'm retired, and I love it."
So what have you always wanted to do? Promise me, and yourself, no regrets!
And so it is.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Friday, June 21, 2013
Staying Connected
I had an upsetting experience last week ... I lost my internet connection ...FOR 3 DAYS! I had people talking me through resetting my modem, checking all my connections, trying to ditch my cookies (what are those things anyway, and what purpose can they possibly serve?). I ended up dragging my 7 year old laptop, (made before they became lightweight so we're talking about 10 lbs here), to the library so I could get out our Unity group's weekly newsletter and this blog. As luck would have it, Blogger was also having some issues last week so getting my blog out was also a challenge. Then I dragged everything back home and just sat for a while ... in silence ... doing nothing... except thinking.
I started thinking about how I had let myself become so addicted to my computer that I had stopped being connected to the rest of the world, both the outer world and the inner world. Even the books that I read were all digital. I called the internet provider, who was very nice and didn't speak to me as if I were a technically challenged senior citizen, and was advised it would be late afternoon before a technician could get to me. So I made myself an ice coffee, opened a real book, sat by my window overlooking the bird feeder, and read. No e-mails, Facebook, blogs, newsletters, Google searches, weather reports, online book sales (do they have a recovery group for that?), political discussions ... just reading. A real book. About gardening.
Reading that book, in that setting, reminded me about being connected in a different way. I remembered the feeling I got whenever I was on my knees in my garden back home digging in the dirt, pulling out weeds or planting something new. I touched the ground and felt the Earth's heartbeat. I was connected to everyone and everything in that moment. Even now, when I allow myself to step back and be in the moment, to breathe deeply, smell the trees, the rain, the grass, and listen to bird song outside my window, or stop what I'm doing to watch a flock of geese move across the sky on their way to the river, I am connected to the heartbeat of the Earth as well. Whenever I pull myself away from the view of life from a computer screen and view it from the Universal Screen, I am connected to everyone and all that is.
I'm not saying we should ditch the wonders of technology. They have certainly made our lives not only easier, but more exciting. It is wonderful to be connected to people and places all over the world and to have the world's knowledge at our fingertips. But if we forget to stay connected to ourselves and the world we live and move in every day, we are not living from our authentic selves. When we are so busy looking down at our iPhones that we miss a baby's smile, or a beautiful flower, or a sky so brilliantly blue it makes us wish we could fly, then we are disconnected from the world that matters. David Whyte said, "give up all the worlds except the one to which you belong." I'm not saying that we should all pull the plug and walk away from technology. I'm saying that we should let it serve us, but not imprison us. Remember to take time every day to check your connection to the Earth's heartbeat. It's a beat you can dance to forever.
P.S. Cody, the sweet and talented young man who came and fixed my internet connection (problem at the box outside, not with the technically challenged senior inside), renewed my hope in the concept of a kinder, gentler species of repairmen!
And so it is.
I started thinking about how I had let myself become so addicted to my computer that I had stopped being connected to the rest of the world, both the outer world and the inner world. Even the books that I read were all digital. I called the internet provider, who was very nice and didn't speak to me as if I were a technically challenged senior citizen, and was advised it would be late afternoon before a technician could get to me. So I made myself an ice coffee, opened a real book, sat by my window overlooking the bird feeder, and read. No e-mails, Facebook, blogs, newsletters, Google searches, weather reports, online book sales (do they have a recovery group for that?), political discussions ... just reading. A real book. About gardening.
Reading that book, in that setting, reminded me about being connected in a different way. I remembered the feeling I got whenever I was on my knees in my garden back home digging in the dirt, pulling out weeds or planting something new. I touched the ground and felt the Earth's heartbeat. I was connected to everyone and everything in that moment. Even now, when I allow myself to step back and be in the moment, to breathe deeply, smell the trees, the rain, the grass, and listen to bird song outside my window, or stop what I'm doing to watch a flock of geese move across the sky on their way to the river, I am connected to the heartbeat of the Earth as well. Whenever I pull myself away from the view of life from a computer screen and view it from the Universal Screen, I am connected to everyone and all that is.
I'm not saying we should ditch the wonders of technology. They have certainly made our lives not only easier, but more exciting. It is wonderful to be connected to people and places all over the world and to have the world's knowledge at our fingertips. But if we forget to stay connected to ourselves and the world we live and move in every day, we are not living from our authentic selves. When we are so busy looking down at our iPhones that we miss a baby's smile, or a beautiful flower, or a sky so brilliantly blue it makes us wish we could fly, then we are disconnected from the world that matters. David Whyte said, "give up all the worlds except the one to which you belong." I'm not saying that we should all pull the plug and walk away from technology. I'm saying that we should let it serve us, but not imprison us. Remember to take time every day to check your connection to the Earth's heartbeat. It's a beat you can dance to forever.
P.S. Cody, the sweet and talented young man who came and fixed my internet connection (problem at the box outside, not with the technically challenged senior inside), renewed my hope in the concept of a kinder, gentler species of repairmen!
And so it is.
Monday, June 17, 2013
What We Can Learn From Storms, Rhubarb ... and Lemons?
Even though my gardening endeavors have gone from full-scale, all-out yardage to container gardening on my porch, I till like to keep up with what’s going on in the gardening world via blogs and newsletters. My current favorite blog is, “A Way To Garden,” by Margaret Roach, author of a book by the same name in addition to my all time favorite, “And I Shall Have Some Peace Here,” and her newest, “Backyard Parables.” Margaret has a wit that I connect to, both of us having come from the Big Apple to reinvent ourselves in the wilds of upstate New York. She has also become quite an experienced gardener, all of it self-taught.
Last week Margaret shared with her readers the plight of her garden after a particularly nasty storm which included some large hail. Alas, her rhubarb was quite torn to shreds. Now Margaret is a veteran of many, many storms of every variety so rather than have a negative reaction to this event, she chose instead to take a positive approach – she simply pulled up the plants and set about the task of making rhubarb compote, crumble and syrup. But not just any compote, crumble and syrup. She decided to make new and improved, healthier varieties of compote, crumble and syrup. In essence, she took what might be conceived as a bad experience and found a way to make something positive come out of it.
I’m sure you’ve all heard that tired old saying, “when life hands you lemons, make lemonade.” However, as we get older, the lemons seem to come at us with more and more frequency: we lose our jobs, a spouse dies or leaves us single again for the first time in decades, the kids leave the nest, parents, friends and other family members pass, and suddenly we are alone and wondering what to do next. I know there have been some spirited discussions recently on VN about these very subjects, and Margaret’s experience got me to thinking about applying some of her home-grown logic to these experiences as well.
What we can do when the lemons are coming at us is to throw out that old lemonade recipe and create a new and improved one. We can get rid of all the old ways we used to define ourselves that involved our “roles” and start writing a whole new story, a new and improved one that is no longer fiction, but real life, real you stories.
I know, I know, change is hard and scary, but more often than not it is much scarier in our minds than it actually turns out to be. First you dip a toe in, then the whole foot, and before you know it you’ve taken the plunge and surfaced as a whole new, and authentic, you. This is the you that creates her life in a new and improved way that nourishes her spirit as well as her body.
Who knows? You may end up the world’s greatest authority on lemonade!
And so it is.
Last week Margaret shared with her readers the plight of her garden after a particularly nasty storm which included some large hail. Alas, her rhubarb was quite torn to shreds. Now Margaret is a veteran of many, many storms of every variety so rather than have a negative reaction to this event, she chose instead to take a positive approach – she simply pulled up the plants and set about the task of making rhubarb compote, crumble and syrup. But not just any compote, crumble and syrup. She decided to make new and improved, healthier varieties of compote, crumble and syrup. In essence, she took what might be conceived as a bad experience and found a way to make something positive come out of it.
I’m sure you’ve all heard that tired old saying, “when life hands you lemons, make lemonade.” However, as we get older, the lemons seem to come at us with more and more frequency: we lose our jobs, a spouse dies or leaves us single again for the first time in decades, the kids leave the nest, parents, friends and other family members pass, and suddenly we are alone and wondering what to do next. I know there have been some spirited discussions recently on VN about these very subjects, and Margaret’s experience got me to thinking about applying some of her home-grown logic to these experiences as well.
What we can do when the lemons are coming at us is to throw out that old lemonade recipe and create a new and improved one. We can get rid of all the old ways we used to define ourselves that involved our “roles” and start writing a whole new story, a new and improved one that is no longer fiction, but real life, real you stories.
I know, I know, change is hard and scary, but more often than not it is much scarier in our minds than it actually turns out to be. First you dip a toe in, then the whole foot, and before you know it you’ve taken the plunge and surfaced as a whole new, and authentic, you. This is the you that creates her life in a new and improved way that nourishes her spirit as well as her body.
Who knows? You may end up the world’s greatest authority on lemonade!
And so it is.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Your Mission, Should You Accept It
Back in the early 80’s I was employed as an Outreach Worker for an inner-city ministry. We would feed the kids, comfort and care for the elderly, and provide a soft place to land for people who were just trying to survive in an atmosphere of drugs and poverty.
One day the Pastor came into the office and announced that I had been adopted as a missionary by a small, rural sister church in the mid-west and that they would be contributing to my salary (small as it was) which would be a blessing as our resources were few. At first I thought I had misunderstood him. The word “missionary” conjured up images of weary, overworked people in Africa or the Rain Forrest building wells and holding Sunday services under a thatched roof in the jungle. The Pastor assured me that in their eyes I was, indeed, a missionary except that my “jungle” was the inner-city streets swarming with drug dealers and gang members instead of lions and tigers. The whole concept made me take a closer look at myself as a human being rather than defining myself by the job.
A little more than 16 years later I found myself living far from those mean streets in a small, rural village of my own in a different jungle of sorts teaching myself how to garden. I was feeding the soil while I fed my spirit. I tended the flowers and plants and gave myself a soft place to land, a place to redefine myself without the trappings of a job or a title. I was, in effect, a missionary in my own back yard ministering to my own needs and the garden’s as well.
Sometimes we have to treat ourselves with as much love and compassion as we would those people we perceive to be in need of those very things. We are the first ones to put ourselves out there when the need arises, but the last ones to be on the receiving end when we are the ones in need. Women, and especially older women who have devoted a lifetime to others, are especially vulnerable to this. By the time I found myself standing in that garden surrounded by the unknown but willing to learn, I had already burned out, dropped out and allowed the well to run dry. As women we shouldn't have to get to that state before we minister to our own needs. As women who have raised their families and put them first for years and years, it is time to redefine ourselves in this next chapter of our lives by being on the receiving end of self-love, self-compassion and extreme self-care.
Today, and for every day going forward, become a missionary to yourself. Feed your body and spirit with healthy offerings, care and comfort yourself when you need it, and give yourself a soft place to fall … and don’t get up until you’re ready.
And so it is.
One day the Pastor came into the office and announced that I had been adopted as a missionary by a small, rural sister church in the mid-west and that they would be contributing to my salary (small as it was) which would be a blessing as our resources were few. At first I thought I had misunderstood him. The word “missionary” conjured up images of weary, overworked people in Africa or the Rain Forrest building wells and holding Sunday services under a thatched roof in the jungle. The Pastor assured me that in their eyes I was, indeed, a missionary except that my “jungle” was the inner-city streets swarming with drug dealers and gang members instead of lions and tigers. The whole concept made me take a closer look at myself as a human being rather than defining myself by the job.
A little more than 16 years later I found myself living far from those mean streets in a small, rural village of my own in a different jungle of sorts teaching myself how to garden. I was feeding the soil while I fed my spirit. I tended the flowers and plants and gave myself a soft place to land, a place to redefine myself without the trappings of a job or a title. I was, in effect, a missionary in my own back yard ministering to my own needs and the garden’s as well.
Sometimes we have to treat ourselves with as much love and compassion as we would those people we perceive to be in need of those very things. We are the first ones to put ourselves out there when the need arises, but the last ones to be on the receiving end when we are the ones in need. Women, and especially older women who have devoted a lifetime to others, are especially vulnerable to this. By the time I found myself standing in that garden surrounded by the unknown but willing to learn, I had already burned out, dropped out and allowed the well to run dry. As women we shouldn't have to get to that state before we minister to our own needs. As women who have raised their families and put them first for years and years, it is time to redefine ourselves in this next chapter of our lives by being on the receiving end of self-love, self-compassion and extreme self-care.
Today, and for every day going forward, become a missionary to yourself. Feed your body and spirit with healthy offerings, care and comfort yourself when you need it, and give yourself a soft place to fall … and don’t get up until you’re ready.
And so it is.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Holding Our Breath
We have arrived at that time in the gardening cycle when the soil has been turned and amended, the seeds have been planted, the mulch has been carefully laid down and the garden gnome has been restored to his rightful place as guardian of the back yard. Now ... we wait. We hold our breath and wait, all the time listening to that dialogue running in our heads in a continuous loop: "Did I plant too early/too late? Will we get hit with another of those ridiculous late spring frosts? Will the animals dig up the seeds? Should I have given the squash and cucumbers more room?" On, and on. Not until the first shoots are poking their heads through the soil do we breathe deeply and freely as if we we deep sea divers who had just broken the surface and come up for air.
How many times in our day to day lives do we do the very same thing when faced with stress or indecision? We forget to breathe. Will I get that job? Will he like me? Did I do the right thing? Am I too old to try something new? Do I have enough courage to take the next step? Our breathing is short, shallow and held so tightly that it has a negative effect on our brain as well as our body. How can anyone handle a situation or make a rational decision under those circumstances?
When I first heard Deepak Chopra in an interview say that people in the west had forgotten how to breathe, I thought I had heard wrong? How can you forget how to breathe? It just happens - air in, air out - no thought required. It wasn't until I started to meditate that I realized breathing is an art, a science, and a path to better physical and spiritual health. Just like learning how and when to plant our seeds, breathing can also be studied and applied to grow a life that is not just healthier and happier, but gives us that extra boost we need to take the first step in the direction of our dreams.
The next time you contemplate stepping outside your comfort zone to plant your intentions and dreams for the next chapter in your life, take a moment, stop, take 3 or 4 slow, deep breaths, and look at the idea again. See if things don't look a bit clearer and more do-able. I bet you'll find that you planted those seeds exactly where they were meant to be. Before you know it, those dreams will come poking their little heads up through the soil of your heart and burst into bloom.
And so it is.
Friday, May 24, 2013
A Time And A Season
My granddaughter is getting married tomorrow (the one in the cap and gown ... the other one has a few years to go yet).. She is my first grandchild. She was the first one to call me Grammy. If I close my eyes I can see her at two years old following me around the garden with her little child-size gardening tools and pail helping me dig up weeds and plant flowers. Her aunt gave her a battery operated riding dump truck and she would load up all my clippings and garden cast-offs and drive them around to the back of the garage to the compost pile. By age three she was an accomplished gardener. We share a love of nature and a reverence for the spirits of earth and sky, water and animals. Only yesterday we played and laughed together like two naughty children when their parents are away. Tomorrow I will watch her move on and begin a new life. To everything there is a season.
The things we plant in the minds and hearts of those that come after us take time to take root and grow. Just as in our gardens, it is important to pick the right seeds and plant them at the right time in the right conditions. Even if we don't see evidence of one particular plant coming into maturity when we think it should, if we have faith in the soil and the the seed, it will grow in it's own way and in it's own time. Whether we think it is too soon or too late is up to the plant, not us. It may even surprise the older, seasoned gardeners in us with how well it turns out. To everything there is a time and a season.
I love you, Courtney.
And so it is.
Friday, May 17, 2013
The Champion of Dreams
Last week I was listening to a webinar on coming into your feminine power. One of the facilitators posed a question to the listeners that really caught my attention and I want to share it with you.
Think back to a time when you were just a child or adolescent, to a time when some person or event lit a spark in you and at that moment your dream of what you wanted to do with your life was ignited. Let yourself remember what you felt like at that moment, at that age when everything and anything seemed possible and the world was filled with the excitement of discovery.
Got it? Good. Now, ask yourself what you would tell that young child now about the reality of making that dream come true from your current age and perspective. Would you applaud him or her because you are living proof of that dream fulfilled, or would you crush their spirit with the cold, harsh reality of "the real world?"
Life Coach Cheryl Richardson tells the story of how she took a picture of herself as a little girl, with her arms flung out and her mouth opened wide in joy, and placed it on her desk where she could see it every day. Whenever she beat herself up with negative self-talk or discouragement, she would remind herself: "I would never speak to that little girl like that." That's such a powerful image. So why would we do that to ourselves now as adults? Are we no longer as worthy as that little child?
That little child is still alive and well inside us. That moment of pure joy and excitement about our dreams for the future are still there and accessible to us. All we have to do is close our eyes, remember that moment, and step into that feeling. I know, I know, you're telling yourself that it's not that easy, that I don't know all that you've gone through and what your life has been like. No, I don't know what your life has been like, but I know what your life could be like now. Try it. Close your eyes and go there, just for a few minutes.
My moment came when I was 12 years old and a wise and wonderful teacher gave me a copy of the Poems of Edna St. Vincent Millay and told me to read a poem called, "Renascence," written when the poet herself was just a teenager. She saw something in me that told her my dream was already planted ... it just needed some nurturing. From the moment I turned over the last page of this epic poem, I was hooked: I wanted to be a writer. Fast forward 50 plus years. At the age of 63 I am finally a writer. After many stops and starts, a few successes and plenty of rejections, I have finally given myself the permission to be a writer, in my heart as well as on the page (or the screen as it were here in the 21st century). How sad that I had to keep that little girl waiting for so long to fulfill her dream when what I am doing now is filling my life with such joy, just like the picture of Cheryl's young self.
So the question I would like to pose to you is this: what do you have to tell that child now? Are you going to tell him/her how proud you are of them for daring to dream and support them in their quest? Or are you going to tell them why it will never come true? You can be a Dream Champion for that little child by picking up that challenge and jumping on your trusty steed called courage. Support that child with love, encouragement and faith in yourself, and when you stray off the path, just put yourself back in that moment. It will re-fuel you and remind you that you are never too old to dream.
And so it is.
Think back to a time when you were just a child or adolescent, to a time when some person or event lit a spark in you and at that moment your dream of what you wanted to do with your life was ignited. Let yourself remember what you felt like at that moment, at that age when everything and anything seemed possible and the world was filled with the excitement of discovery.
Got it? Good. Now, ask yourself what you would tell that young child now about the reality of making that dream come true from your current age and perspective. Would you applaud him or her because you are living proof of that dream fulfilled, or would you crush their spirit with the cold, harsh reality of "the real world?"
Life Coach Cheryl Richardson tells the story of how she took a picture of herself as a little girl, with her arms flung out and her mouth opened wide in joy, and placed it on her desk where she could see it every day. Whenever she beat herself up with negative self-talk or discouragement, she would remind herself: "I would never speak to that little girl like that." That's such a powerful image. So why would we do that to ourselves now as adults? Are we no longer as worthy as that little child?
That little child is still alive and well inside us. That moment of pure joy and excitement about our dreams for the future are still there and accessible to us. All we have to do is close our eyes, remember that moment, and step into that feeling. I know, I know, you're telling yourself that it's not that easy, that I don't know all that you've gone through and what your life has been like. No, I don't know what your life has been like, but I know what your life could be like now. Try it. Close your eyes and go there, just for a few minutes.
My moment came when I was 12 years old and a wise and wonderful teacher gave me a copy of the Poems of Edna St. Vincent Millay and told me to read a poem called, "Renascence," written when the poet herself was just a teenager. She saw something in me that told her my dream was already planted ... it just needed some nurturing. From the moment I turned over the last page of this epic poem, I was hooked: I wanted to be a writer. Fast forward 50 plus years. At the age of 63 I am finally a writer. After many stops and starts, a few successes and plenty of rejections, I have finally given myself the permission to be a writer, in my heart as well as on the page (or the screen as it were here in the 21st century). How sad that I had to keep that little girl waiting for so long to fulfill her dream when what I am doing now is filling my life with such joy, just like the picture of Cheryl's young self.
So the question I would like to pose to you is this: what do you have to tell that child now? Are you going to tell him/her how proud you are of them for daring to dream and support them in their quest? Or are you going to tell them why it will never come true? You can be a Dream Champion for that little child by picking up that challenge and jumping on your trusty steed called courage. Support that child with love, encouragement and faith in yourself, and when you stray off the path, just put yourself back in that moment. It will re-fuel you and remind you that you are never too old to dream.
And so it is.
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