A Touch of Frost

This is what greeted me one morning last week:

The first touch of frost dusted the grass and reminded me that, even though we would probably still have some warm days yet, the year was winding down towards winter. There were more months behind us for this year on the calendar than there were left ahead of us.

The year I turned 60 was a lot like that as well. For some reason, as long as I was still in my 50's, I never gave it a thought, but after my birthday I suddenly realized that I had more years behind me than I was likely to have in front of me. That was a sobering thought for sure. It's not as if I thought my days were numbered, but when I looked back at those previous decades, I realized that I could not say with any certainty that my best days were behind me as well. There was nothing outstanding about them except for the birth of my two beautiful daughters which I consider my crowning achievement, but I didn't feel as if I had achieved any of the goals I had set up for myself or made more than one of my dreams come true - leaving the city behind and moving to the country. For a while I wondered if there was still time for me to go for the gold and make the rest of my dreams come true. Was I now "too old" to give birth to them?

Then I discovered my hero, Louise Hay, who affirmed: "Each age has its own special joys and experiences. I am always the perfect age for where I am in life." Maybe that was the key to it all. When I was having and raising my children, I was the perfect age to do that. Now that I am older, and my children are off living their own lives, I am the perfect age to experience the special joys and accomplishments that come with the wisdom of having lived 60+ years. As I sat down at my desk and picked up my pen again, I discovered that my writing had taken on a different hue, a warmer, deeper voice, and I knew that it wouldn't have been possible to write like that in my younger days. I needed a touch of frost, a touch of life experience, to add the color that my writing needed. I have since published two ebooks, have been writing this blog for three years, and am working on a new book that is longer and deeper than anything I have done before. I could not have even begun that project until I had lived it first.

Yesterday morning I woke up to yet another surprise:

Our first snow of the season (no, the bear isn't real. He has been standing guard over my gardens for the last 20 years). It's all gone now, melted away by the Autumn sun and temperatures reaching back for the 50's. Change happens. Seasons change. There are special joys and experiences in each of them and I know I am the perfect age to experience each and every one of them as only I can from where I am in my life.

And so it is.

Happy Anniversary To Me

On October 1st I celebrated one year since I moved to the country. I can't believe that it has already been a whole year. I have watched all the seasons come and go with a new fascination like a small child who experiences them for the first time. I still become overwhelmed with emotion when I watch the magnificent colors of the sunset every night, and am currently being blown away by the explosion of Autumn color all around me. Even the piles and piles of snow outside my window last winter were amazing to me although I admit to wondering if I would every see Spring again. When Spring finally got here, it came with tulips, and daffodils, and the return of morning birdsong, and soft breezes instead of frigid ones.

As the seasons changed, so did I. I have spent the last few days taking an inventory of the things I've learned since I downsized my life. I've learned that one can happily exist with very little, freeing up time and space for experiences and pursuing hobbies or passions. I've learned that a home cooked meal from fresh, local produce and other food items not only feeds the body with better health, but feeds the mind and soul as well because every time we slice a tomato or pick some produce from our own gardens, we are connecting with the Spirit that created it all and us as well. I've learned that taking time to just sit and listen to nothing isn't a waste of time, because there is no "nothing." There are the sounds of birds chirping, geese in flight, the wind in the trees, cows mooing, rain dripping off the roof and so many things that resonate like a beautiful symphony. I no longer have to lock myself in a closet to get away from the cacophony of cars, trucks, fire engines, sirens, buses, and people driving by with their music turned up to ear-bleeding volume, while sucking in exhaust fumes and other toxins.

Some folks have wondered how I survive out here when I sometimes go days without seeing another human being up close (I am surrounded by farms so I wave daily to the guys and girls driving the hay trucks and tractors as they go by, and my landlords live right upstairs but they both work). The biggest gift I have received from moving here is that I have learned to like myself and my own company. It has not been an easy process, and I spent many a dark, snowy winter day getting reacquainted with myself. There was a little girl inside that had been yearning to hear someone tell her that she was perfect just as she was, that she was capable, and creative, and strong, and smart, and enough. So I put my arm around her and told her all of those things, and more. When the snows melted and the days grew warmer and longer, we went for walks together and watched the earth rebirth and renew itself. We rediscovered our love of cooking and, having made the decision to go vegan - no small task in the middle of cow country - we discovered how creative we could be. Most of all, we found our voice again and it began to speak once more on the page, and we began to tell the story of our journey.  Hopefully by early next year we will be able to birth it to the world.

So Happy Anniversary to me. May the peace and love I've found find its way out into the world to inspire someone else to leap into the life of their dreams. Don't be scared. It's so worth the journey.

And so it is.

A Matter of Trust

This is Charlotte. She is 8 years old. I adopted her when my daughter informed me that they had discovered a tiny, hungry kitten just a few months old licking out dog food cans in her recycling bin outside on a cold October morning 8 years ago. At first I said no. I had already dealt with the grief and sadness of two beautiful felines who had crossed the Rainbow Bridge, and a third whose time was quickly coming to make the same trip. However, the moment I held her and we looked into each others' eyes, I knew that she would have to be mine. In those few minutes, there was an undeniable feeling of trust that moved between us, a feeling that we would be there for each other no matter what. That feeling of trust has proved to be as solid as stone. There is nothing I would not do to take care of her and give her a good life, and she has shown me unconditional love even in those moments when I was not even aware that I was in need of just that.

"God has entrusted me with myself."

Epictetus

Have you ever noticed that we have no problem making sure that we provide those that we love with everything they need to have a good life, but have a huge problem doing the same for ourselves? We might say, "Well, my children/pets/loved ones trust that I will be there for them." The reason that they have that degree of trust in us is because we established that bond of trust with them when they were entrusted to our care. So how is it that we don't have the same degree of trust in ourselves to treat ourselves the same way we would treat those we love? 

As the quote above tells us, God (Creator, Universe, Great Mystery, whatever you're comfortable with) had enough faith in us to entrust us with a precious, loving creation to care for. Love created us. How are we showing our gratitude for that trust Love has in us? Certainly not by letting ourselves go without the things we need, not only to survive, but to thrive? Not just food and shelter, but love, and companionship, and a life that speaks to our spiritual as well as physical well-being. When we take good care of our health, our minds and our hearts, we are showing that we are worthy of the trust Love had in us in the first place. When we fill our lives with poor eating habits, stress, worry and drama, we aren't. Living an authentic life means doing those things that are in our best interest, just as we would do for those we care for. If Creator has that kind of trust in us, who are we to deny our own worth?

This is Laura. When I realized that Charlotte was lonely while I was away at work, Laura came to live with us. Charlotte trusted me to do what was best for her, and, I have to admit, having both girls with me certainly makes my life richer. I think maybe that's what Love had in mind for me anyway.

And so it is. 

The Answer Is In Our Stars

Back in the 1980's, scientist Carl Sagan told us something amazing ... that we were made from stars! He told us that the carbon, nitrogen and oxygen atoms in our bodies, as well as atoms of all other heavy elements, were created in previous generations of stars over 4.5 billion years ago! What's more, humans and every other animal, as well as most of the matter on earth, contain these atoms!

This subject came to mind last night as everyone sat outside and looked towards the heavens to experience the Super Moon-Lunar Eclipse. As I stood out there willing the blanket of clouds that had rolled in to part long enough for me to watch this miracle along with the rest of the world, a tiny split in the clouds opened up that allowed me to see, not the moon, but stars! Glittering, winking, beautiful stars. I sat down on the picnic bench and just gazed at their glow for a while. Carl Sagan's words came back to me and I looked on in wonder at what was essentially a piece of me staring back at me! Even more amazing was the idea that the light from that star had taken millions of years to get here, yet here it was, still shining down on me, having lost none of its glitter.

When we hit a certain age, we begin to worry that we don't have enough time left to "get it all done." There are so many things we want to do, adventures we want to have, experiences we want to explore, and we see our "golden years" as either the end of the road, or the beginning of a new one. Either way, we need to take a lesson out the the stars' playbook and remember that each and every day, we still glitter. In everything we do, if we let our light shine, it's effect can be felt on everyone around us for years to come.

Just this morning, my 22 year old granddaughter posted something on Facebook about how it was nice that everyone was outside last night sharing the experience of the eclipse with their families, friends and neighbors, but that these same people had been holed up in front of their computers and video games before last night, and would go back into their holes after it was over. What had happened to sitting out on the porch after dinner, spending time with family and friends, watching kids playing under the same stars that were out there last night providing a sparkling backdrop to the night's events? I had to admit that I was darn proud of her. She had spent many a night outside after dark with her Grandma when she was little, watching the stars, and the moon, and the little animals that came out while the rest of the animal world slept. That experience, that "shine," had stayed with her all of these years, not to be forgotten once she became an adult and a mother as well.

I like to think that my whole life is just like one of those stars, shining that light out to all those around me, making a difference in people's lives, and lighting my own path as I continue to take each step, for as many steps as I have left, in the knowledge that we are made of stars, and our light is, and will be, there for years and years to come. It does my heart good to know that a young woman stands outside at night with her two year old son and shows him the stars just like her Grandma did with her, and that someday he will do the same. That's the kind of light that never goes out.

And so it is.

What's In A Name?

Shakespeare once wrote: "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." That quote came to mind the other day as I was reading an blog post about the term "Boomers," meaning those folks who are part of what is known as the Baby Boomer generation. The blogger was questioning whether this was a better name than referring to them as Seniors, or Elders, or a host of other names.

When I first started gardening, I tackled it the same way that I always tackle something new - I researched the heck out of it. By the end of the first year I was able to refer to plants by their proper names and recognize most on sight. Twenty-plus years later and except for the more common ones, I'll be darned if I can remember half of them. What they are called matters less to me than how they look and, more importantly, how they make me feel. As long as it make me feel good, and fresh, and closer to my Creator, than I couldn't care less what it's called ... Sally or Fred would do just as well!

In my ebook, "Song Of An Extraordinary Life: Creating A New Soundtrack For Our Third Age," I refer to that time in our lives when we have lived through our first two ages - childhood and adult - as our Third Age, a time when we have raised our kids, paid our dues, and have decades ahead of us to create our own ideas of what life should be. While I have put a name to the concept, I certainly wouldn't want to be called a "Third Ager," any more than I want to be known as a Boomer. In the chapter titled, "The Way You Do The Things You Do," I talk about the idea that who I am is who I decide to say I am. Referring to myself as a mother, daughter, sister, friend, etc., describes roles that I play in the lives of those around me, but the last time I was discussing this idea with a group of people and they asked me what I would want to be called, I replied, "Barb." There is only one Barb exactly like me and she can be and do anything she sets her sights on. Danish philosopher Kierkegaard said, "Once you name me, you negate me." Once you lump me in a category, you limit my potential.

So it doesn't matter what age I am, or what generation I belong to. Just like that pretty yellow flower in my garden whose name I don't know, as long as I live my authentic life and all that entails for me, the name Barb will do just fine, thank you very much.

And so it is.
P.S. The ebook that I mention above, Song Of An Extraordinary Life, is available at Amazon.com. In it I challenge the women of my generation to make use of our experience changing the cultural norms and create a Third Age that rocks!

Learning To Ring Your Own Bell

Lately I've been working on being more flexible. I don't mean just being flexible in a physical sense, although as the years go by I find that moving my body more is a must if I want to maintain my quality of life. What I mean is that I really thought that, as I traveled along on my spiritual journey these last 25 years or so, I had finally gotten rid of all those limiting beliefs and negative self-talk that had kept me so rigid and unhappy for most of my life. However, I find that I am one of those people who can easily exchange one limiting belief for another without even knowing it and before you can say, "but I have to," I am stuck right back in old habits.

I have always been someone who believes that if someone I admire, like a meditation teacher, or a favorite author, says that I should do something a certain way, I blindly accept that they probably know better than I do (or they wouldn't be my favorites, right?) so I should do it the way they suggest. When someone says something that "rings true" for me, I automatically accept it as gospel. For example, I am a follower of the meditation teacher Davidji. He tells us that we should meditate first thing in the morning upon rising. Most days I can do this, but when my granddaughter comes to spend the weekend, or an early morning appointment comes up and I have to skip it, I admonish myself all day. I feel out of sorts and verbally beat myself up with things like, "well, you could have gotten up earlier and done it before she woke up, or before you had breakfast." The same is true with my writing. For years I firmly believed that I had to write in the morning because all of the so-called experts, many of whom have truly helped my writing, insisted that writing first thing and setting a firm writing time was the only way I would get anything done (so do I meditate first and then write, or vice versa, and do I really have to get something done every day?).

What I did not stop to think about was that the only expert I should be taking advice from is me. I am the expert when it comes to what works for me and what doesn't. I should be ringing my own bell. Right now we are coming into my very favorite time of the year and I am blessed to be living in an area where I can experience it in all of its glory. Maybe I'd like to meditate during a morning walk, or after I get back from it - and isn't walking a form of meditation, after all? Maybe on days where the outdoors calls to me, I can work at my desk in the afternoon and use the morning to spiritually feed my muse? And maybe, just maybe, I don't have to do anything at all except only those things that make me happy and allows me to be the greatest idea of myself that I can be in that moment. Wouldn't my spirit, mind, body and muse benefit more from my being in a state of happiness and gratitude that only I am responsible for rather than someone who doesn't even know me and what my life is about?

The bottom line here is that we need to learn to trust ourselves more. We know what makes us happy. We know what feeds our soul. We know what rings our bell. We just have to learn to ring it more often.

And so it is.

P.S. As we approach the Third Anniversary of Flower Bear's Garden, we are offering our e-book, "Staying Rooted: Living and Growing Through the Seasons Of Our Lives," for only .99 cents from September 16-22. This is our way to say thank you for your support. Sit back and enjoy a year in the garden as we plant and grow our authentic lives. Just go to the Flower Bear Facebook Page and hit the "Shop Now" button, or go to the link on this page to Amazon: amazon.com/dp/B00M8CBWTQ. Happy Reading and thank you!

Taking Care Of Business

I saw an interesting article the other day in OM Times by Simone Milasas. She talked about the fact that we are all entrepreneurs because we all ran a business - our life is our business. It was an interesting concept. If I ran my life like a business, what business principles could I apply to my life?

 First and foremost, I believe that a business that thrives, rather than just survives, knows that their employees are their most important assets and treats them accordingly. That would mean that in order for my business (my life) to thrive, I would need to treat myself with respect, dignity and gratitude for the work I do every day, and be understanding when I'm having a bad day or things don't work out the way I want them to. I would want my boss (me) to help me to feel inspired and encourage me to stretch myself beyond my comfort zones, to reach for new ideas and possibilities.

Second, I would want my employees to be in good shape. An employee who is tired or stressed all the time is not going to be able to give me their best. I would make sure that I am well rested, make healthy eating choices that fuel me rather than deplete me, and I would make sure to get up from the desk and move more often, even to making sure I get some extended exercise during the day.

Third, in order to do my best, I would make time every day for meditation, contemplation, and nourishing my spirit. All of my inspiration and creativity comes from spirit, and spending time in nature, or in meditation, or both, keeps me focused and on task. Spending time in my garden before or after work, or even meditating outside when weather permits, is like fueling a car with high test - it gets those creative juices flowing!

Come to think of it, I would need a really spiffy name for my business. Let's see, Barb's Life is okay but not very catchy. How about ... Flower Bear's Garden: Planting A Life? Perfect!

Happy Labor Day!
And so it is.