Taking Up The Challenge

Ever since I made the very hard decision to move from my happy little country home and garden some years ago to an apartment in town, I have been challenging myself every spring and summer to find ways to bring the joys of gardening with me even it it meant I had to totally re-educate myself about what was possible. Since I had already come to gardening late in life, pushing 50 when I picked up my first spade and packet of seeds, it would have been easy for me to just let it all go, hang a few pots of petunias around and not tax my little grey brain anymore. But when we stop challenging ourselves, we stop growing and growing is an essential part of living. Life Coach Tony Robbins tells us that we all have a need to make progress in our lives and if we don’t grow, we stagnate and die.

It’s so easy at this stage of our lives to tell ourselves that we are too old to learn anything new and, for heavens sake, why should we? Haven’t we learned enough? We made it through all of the grades in school and all of the stages of life, and it’s kick-back time, right? Wrong. It’s okay to kick-back once in a while, and in fact learning and promoting self-care is one of the most important challenges we can pick up and run with as we move forward. Real challenge keeps us alive, gives us a reason to get out of bed in the morning and adds excitement to our lives.

This summer I have taken on two challenges although one was not really a choice but was dropped in my lap. The first challenge was to find a way to grow salad fixings on my porch garden and the second was to be able to tend that little porch garden while learning how to walk again after surgery to repair a fractured leg. The garden variety challenge involved finding certain types of tomato plants that could grow inside a screened-in area. After trial and error (and lots of advice from other container gardeners online) I found one that grows cherry tomatoes galore in a hanging pot without the need to have it on the other side of the screen for pollination purposes. I can now boast that my little porch garden provides me with tomatoes grown in pots, lettuce grown in window boxes, basil, parsley, other assorted herbs and, of course, flowers.

The other challenge was a lot harder. My great grandson, Xavier, is starting to walk at almost 10 months. To watch the two of us it is amazing that humans ever learn to walk at all. One of us has no preconceptions about how to get the job done. He just plunges ahead and shakes off the inevitable tumbles when they happen. The other refuses to let a 10 month old beat her at a game she already won once before … she just needs to move past the pain and the fear and put one foot in front of the other. So I challenged myself that by the end of June I would be able to walk out into my garden room and pluck my very own tomatoes off my very own plant all by myself sans a walker or other equipment. As I write this,it is June 30 and a bowl of beautiful little red gems sits at my elbow on the table collected by yours truly with no help from anyone except a little black and gold cat that has been my bodyguard since I arrived back home from the hospital.

If you are facing a challenge, whether it is physical, emotional, financial or any other kind, pick it up and take it on. After all, we didn’t make it this far by sitting on our butts and coasting. Challenge is growth, and growth is what living is all about. And if you are lucky enough not to have any unwanted challenges at the moment, challenge yourself to learn something new, or to take something you already know in a new direction. My new challenge for next summer? Pole beans on an indoor trellis! I dare anyone to say I can’t.

And so it is.

The Gift of Receiving

The last time I posted here it was to share with you my experience after I took a tumble while out walking with my granddaughter and the job my ego did of beating up on my already  black, blue and humiliated self. As it turns out, my friends, that was only the tip of the iceberg. Beneath the surface what I thought was a wrenched shoulder and bruised hip turned out to be a fracture of the top of my leg bone and another minor one in my shoulder. After 12 hours in ER and a week in the hospital which included putting two pins in my leg so the fracture will heal properly, the whole "woe is me, I'm not old and helpless" tape was erased and replaced with a really tough lesson to learn: how to receive with grace and gratitude.

I am the do-er in my family and circle of friends. I am the one who takes care of others. I helped my daughter with the kids when she had wrist surgery. I helped my best friend when she had a hip replacement. I am the one who helps set up for Sunday Service and coffee hour every week at church. Suddenly, I was flat on my back, pins in my leg, arm in a sling, needing help for even the most personal and mundane things like getting washed and dressed, going to the bathroom and eating meals. This time there was no room for ego or hurt feelings. Without any fanfare or debate, I had no choice but to let go and learn to receive without loosing my dignity. It wasn't pretty.

The amazing thing is that eventually it became a little easier when I accepted that I had no real choice in the matter and that whether or not it would turn out to be a positive experience rested with me. The more I was able to let go and receive with a smile and a kind word of thanks, the more I was able to accept that this had nothing to do with how old I was but with what a remarkable opportunity this was to grow as a woman and as a spiritual being having a human experience. At first the aids and nurses all spoke to me the way they would to their Grandmothers (several of them said I reminded them of their Granny). They would walk into the room and address me in a very loud voice as if a hearing problem was included with the fractures (why do they assume that after 60 we automatically go deaf?). Eventually they got the message that my hearing was just fine and stopped yelling. Before the accident, I would have responded to that from my ego. After the accident, I just let it roll off my back with a smile. I found that the more I smiled, the easier the whole experience became.

I also found that the more I let go, the more clear headed and focused I became. Maybe because my ego was no longer running the show and that nasty old tape that had been playing on a loop before had finally dried up and disappeared along with cassette players and big hair.

Being able to receive with grace and gratitude is very much a gift that not all of us find easy to acquire but once we get it, it paints a very different picture of ourselves and the world around us that has more color, more depth and more love than the one we had before. It also comes in handy when you come home from the hospital and people bring you food ... lots of food ... all of your favorites. So good-bye to, "oh, you shouldn't have done that," and hello to, "thank you, what a lovely surprise." In the end it is a gift for both the giver and the receiver, and that is probably the most important part of all.

And so it is.

The Older The Plant, The Deeper The Roots

One of the things I learned about gardening long ago was that if you wanted to try and remove a plant or bush that had been there for years, you'd better be prepared for some heavy digging and pulling because the roots were guaranteed to be in there deep. Our long held beliefs can be much the same way no matter how much we have cultivated new ideas and new ways of looking at things.

Case in point. I like to think of myself as a moderately enlightened woman. Sure, I still have some old habits and ideas that I carry over from my growing-up years, but mostly I believe that our thoughts create our reality and who we are is who we say we are. I am honest enough to say that I probably should be in better physical shape than I am right now (okay, no probably about it, I should be), but I'm no where near falling apart either. That changed somewhat on Saturday.

On Saturday I spent the day with my 7 year old granddaughter, Gabby. We spent the morning putting together a mini-greenhouse for my front porch garden all by ourselves ("girls rule and boys drool," we sang out as we hi-fived each other over our mechanical triumph). After messing about in potting soil and seeds for a while, we decided to go for a walk to the garden store to check out the plants and then get some lunch. We were about 3 blocks from my apartment when I turned my head to grab her hand as we were about to cross a side street ... and the next minute I was airborne! The outer edge of my sneaker got caught on a hairline crack in the street and my upper body could not stop the forward momentum. I crashed.

My first thought: did I break anything? Body scan: nope. All parts still working. Second thought: am I hurt? Body scan: yep, banged up knee and elbow, wrenched shoulder ... and unbelievable humiliation. I was able to pull it together for Gabby's sake who by this time was in utter tears and terror that I was not okay. She helped me up and I assured her that some first aid for my scrapes and some ice cream for my pride would fix me up in no time. I limped back home and cleaned myself up. I was more battered that I realized but needed to hang in there for her until her Mom, who was 20+ miles away, could come for her. So we managed to go two doors down to Friendly's for lunch and ice cream where she announced that she was too exhausted to go plant shopping and just wanted to hang out the rest of the day (her way of dealing with stress is Netflix).

After the initial excitement calmed down, my formerly enlightened, new-age thought processes went right down the tubes and my years of conditioning took over: I was a bumbling old lady who can't even go for a walk without tripping over her own feet (never mind that this endless winter combined with cut backs to road repair in our town had resulted in cracked and broken streets everywhere). Now I was going to have to stay put for a while to heal (God knows how long that will take), will have my adult daughter treating me like I'm ancient, and with good cause! Now, keep in mind that I am just turning 65 in July and can still pull out a few yoga poses along with 5 mile walks, thank you. But in that moment, I fell back into that mindset that says 65 is old, used up, incompetent and needs taking care of.

I let that mood keep me down for about 36 hours, a long time for me to be down as the most I usually allow a bad mood to hang on is about 12. I did not even post to my blog on Monday as I normally do since my left shoulder still hurts and typing doesn't feel really good(I am typing this with one hand-Yay Me!). This morning I sat my butt down in a chair (the floor is out until the knee heals) and did a gratitude meditation: I am grateful for this day, and each new day which is the gift of a new beginning. I am grateful that I wasn't hurt more severely, that Gabby is okay, that this will all heal, and that I learned something important. I am not as enlightened as I think I am and I still have a lot of deeply rooted beliefs about who I am regardless of my age or physical condition. I still have work to do. Fortunately we are all still a work in progress.

Today I have mastered one-armed bed making, showering, dish washing, cat box cleaning and breakfast making ... and typing. Yeah, girls rule!

And so it is.

In The Space Between

I have come to realize, as I grow into my wisdom years, that the power of synchronicity is alive and very real. The term coincidence has almost disappeared from my vocabulary entirely. So when I get three different messages on the same topic for three days in a row, I tend to sit up and pay very careful attention.

It started on Saturday when I went to a baby shower for my niece. Although this is her second child, it is the first boy for my sister's family. As we all sat around in a circle while she opened her gifts, I couldn't help stepping back and looking at the picture as a whole. I was reminded of a photo that sits on a shelf in my den. It shows my Mom, then my sister and I, all four of our daughters, and my daughter's first child - four generations. On Saturday I had that same feeling: our whole lives were lived so that we could see this moment in time. This is what it's all about. 

On Sunday at church our speaker addressed the idea that everything we do is connected to everything and everyone else. She used some Native American drums and music to connect us all to each other and to the earth, and I was reminded of the Native teaching that says before you make a decision or take action realize that whatever you chose will affect the next seven generations. 

On Monday, Memorial Day, we were all reminded, with parades, memorial services and events, that how you live your life affects us all in some way. Later that day I was listening to a song by former American Idol winner Scotty McCreeery called The Dash. It tells the story of a small town that gathers together to welcome home one of their own fallen soldiers for the last time. The phrase, the dash, refers to the dash on a tombstone that goes between the date of his birth and the date of his death. The singer tells us that what matters is how we live our lives in the dash between those two dates regardless of much or how little time that space represents.

Taking all three of these messages together has given me a greater awareness of the importance of making each day count. What I do today is my legacy for the children that come after me. How I treat the earth and all living things on it will be felt by all of the generations that follow. Choosing to fill the space between those two dates on the headstone with a life lived in integrity, love and responsibility is all that matters however long that time may be. 

This morning I had the honor of explaining a tomato plant to my youngest grandson, age 4. I explained that the yellow flowers had to come first in order for the tomato to come next. I asked him if he understood what I was trying to tell him and he replied, "yes, Grandma. The flower helps the tomato to grow." I certainly hope so.

And so it is.

The Right To Grow

On my bookshelf sits a copy of a book that has been a constant source of joy and teaching for me since 1996. The book is called, Growing Myself: a spiritual journey through gardening by Judith Handelsman. I have lost count of the times that I have pulled it out to again share Judith's journey as she learned about love, cooperation, sensitivity to life and how to find the miraculous in the mundane. In effect, she grew herself. There was one other thing that I got out of it that has been a huge lesson for me, and that is this: everything and everyone has the right to grow.

I remember one day trying to explain to a young lady in her 20's how it was for women of my generation back in the 50's and early 60's. Women were not encouraged to grow. We were not encouraged to stretch ourselves or seek out the answers to our soul questions: Who am I? What do I want? What is my purpose? When I told my parents that I wanted to go to college to become a writer, they assured me that there were only two reasons for a girl to go to college: to find a husband or to learn a skill to fall back on should something happen to said husband (or for old maids that were never expected to marry and became nurses and teachers - sorry, ladies, that is honestly what I was told). I was expected to complete my secretarial skills in high school, get a good job and save up for my wedding (I wasn't even seeing anyone at the time). Fast forward several years and I was a divorced mother (said husband having taken off with someone who had no children) who was using her secretarial skills to support her children - can you hear my mother's I-told-you-so? I was trying to buy a car and they would not give me a car loan based on the fact that I did not have a husband as fall-back in case I lost my job or got pregnant again. I didn't remember them saying those things to my husband when he came in for a car loan. I had to get my Dad to co-sign the loan and went away humiliated and determined that no one ever again was ever going to tell me that I did not have the right to be who I wanted to be. You can imagine the look on the face of that young lady when I finished my story. Clearly she had grown up in a culture that told her she had every right to grow as an individual and as a woman in whatever direction she chose and no clue what it meant to have your growth overshadowed by the world around you

I've been thinking about all of that a lot lately as I approach my 65th birthday this summer. How lucky we are now, this generation that fought so hard to be equal human beings in the eyes of the world, that as we enter our wisdom years we have the chance to grow in new and exciting directions. It saddens me to see older women who have bought into the "I'm an old lady now" mentality and have already signed up for bingo at the senior center every Tuesday. I am so excited by all of the infinite possibilities out there to grow and learn. I am free to choose what new skills or interests to pursue and which tried and true approaches to life fit my needs better. I am free to grow in whatever direction works best for me.

There is a story in Judith's book about some petunias that grew where they were never planted. Perhaps they just weren't satisfied to be tucked away in a corner where they could not flourish but instead decided to toss their seeds into the wind to see what adventure lay ahead on the other side of the garden. Let's all toss our seeds and see where they take root. Who's with me?

And so it is.

As Clouds Sail By

About a week ago I was sitting at my desk by the window early one morning looking out at the sky. What I was supposed to be doing was sitting with my eyes closed listening to the guided meditation I had pulled up on my laptop. However, the sun was pouring through the window after days and days of grey skies and rain, and I could not make myself keep my eyes closed because I was so starved for sunlight. I remembered what I head heard Ram Dass, the great spiritual teacher, say about meditation, that it wasn't only sitting with your eyes closed repeating a mantra, but that it could be almost anything that you can put your full attention on: going for a walk, washing dishes, staring at a candle flame. So I decided to make my meditation that morning about the sky and I was so glad that I did because I would have missed one amazing show if I had kept my eyes closed.

The sky had turned a pearly blue and cotton ball clouds of all sizes and densities were sailing across the sky. I use the term sailing because the new weather front was being blown in by a healthy northwest wind. The clouds reminded me of when sailboats go flying across the waves. The whole thing was remarkable and for a while I just sat there watching the race and wishing with all of my heart that I was soaring up there with them. It did not matter what I should have been doing or could have been doing. There was no where I needed to be or nothing I needed to do more than sit there and soar with those clouds. No guided meditation or mantra could have given me what I got that morning from just taking the time to sit and go with the flow: the chance for my spirit to fly.

As I've gotten older I've learned that there is a divine order to life and that if we just stop and breathe once in a while, and listen to our intuition, it will all unfold as it is meant to be. It's like planting a seed and wondering why we don't get the entire flower all at once. First come the shoots, then the stem, then the leaves, and, finally, the flower. We miss so much in life by trying to force things to be the way we think they should be. There is a natural process to life and, just like the flower, it will grow with the right amount of nurturing and love.

So the next time you find yourself going over your to-do list, make sure you let the No. 1 item be the time to sit and take a few minutes to watch life unfold one cloud, one bird, one breath at a time. I'll bet the view gets a lot better after that.

And so it is.

That Awkward Age

I remember being 12 years old and feeling as if it was absolutely the worst year of my life. I was too old to be thought of as a child even though I still clung to things from childhood that were familiar and safe like my stuffed toy collection and Saturday morning cartoons. On the other hand, I was not old enough to be considered a teenager with all of the lure of makeup, mini skirts (this was the 60's folks) and boys. I didn't know how to define myself and it just about drove me crazy as I'm sure it did every other 12 year old girl before and since.

In July I will turn 65 and lately I've been having that same awkward feeling. It happens every time I go shopping for clothes, or turn on the TV, or pick up a magazine. I feel it when I look for a nice romance story on the bookshelves or on my Nook with characters I can relate to.

So here's the thing: I don't want to dress like my granddaughter, but I don't want to dress like Granny Clampett either. I don't want to have to sit through one more commercial for face lifts, or chair lifts, or pills, but I'd like to see more women my age sitting in board rooms, or classrooms, or workout rooms. I'd like to see designers and marketing people who do their homework and find out what women our age really want. If they would take off their mirrored sun glasses and take a real look at the demographics, they would find that Boomers, and especially Boomer Women, still have plenty of clout and aren't afraid to use it.

Perhaps, rather than try to find way to fit in one way or the other, we should just create a whole new age. I don't mean like calling 6o the new 40 or 65 as middle age (although that would be a nice thought, wouldn't it?). I mean like doing away with the whole idea of "old." or, "senior," and come up with a whole new niche. Or, maybe we don't even need a niche. Maybe we should just call ourselves, "Glorious Me," as in, "what would Glorious Me like to wear today?" or, "maybe Glorious Me should just write that book where the characters are in their 60's, vibrant, healthy and looking for love?" 

So, here and now I am throwing down the gauntlet and starting a whole new age group called Glorious Me. I invite you all to join me and add your own thoughts and ideas. Let's start a revolution that says, "look out world, here we come." 

And so it is.

P.S. I eventually gave up the Saturday morning cartoons but, as you all know, I still have the teddy bears. Rock on!