Pondering

The stillness around me is so heavy I can only ponder.  Anything else feels too heavy, too hard. 

Looking at my home I see simplicity in all its grandeur, a few nice things that reflect what I love.  That makes me think about simplicity and love. 

There are two ways to simplify something.  One is to take it down to its barest essence.  One definition,  One shade.  One way. 

Love simplified has definitions, borders, finite meanings that make it easier to understand and replicate and end.   Love of a spouse.  Love of a child.  Love of god and country and work.  We work for it, strive for it, live and die for it.  It is just that -- an it -- a thing -- an action -- small and limited by the need to make it personal and unique and somehow mine.

Love expanded simply is.  So simple it is barely comprehensible.

Love expanded is an ocean whose waves wash eternally outward, bringing one gift after another into view even as it carries others out of sight.  Simpler than simple because it is everything and nothing.  I can't hug it or hold it in my hand.  I can't claim it, or give it away.  I can't measure it or even really describe it.

I may never truly comprehend it, but I am always immersed in it.

Now that is something to ponder!

A better place

The world is full of magic portals and my job, if I choose to accept it, is to find them all!

I didn't know this long ago.  I thought things just happened.  I had no idea I was supposed to make them happen.  That life is an adventure and the more I believe in it, the better it is.

It is less about luck than finesse.

I have discovered a new portal here at this apartment.

I put not so gently used things at the curb, right in the middle of the walkway on the boulevard by the street and turn around.  When I reach the house, I go inside and look back for the first time.  Whatever I put there is gone!  No longer a problem for me at all!

The first thing I ever put there was the spider's home.  He lived in my microwave for at least three weeks.  Since he lived between the glass in the door I thought maybe he was proof that no radiation was leaking out cause if it was he'd be dead (or mutated.)  Eventually I couldn't live with him so I put him out at the curb, walked inside and turned around to find him gone!

Later I took out the elliptical machine.  It required more enthusiasm than I was ever really able to muster and since I put it together myself I was afraid to sell it for fear of liability.  Whoosh, just like the microwave, it was gone before I looked out the inside window.

Last night I put out the sweeper with the cracked case and the coffee pot without the carafe.  This time I looked as soon as I got to the door.  Already gone! 

I have no idea where they go.  I just assume it is to a better place.

And my place is better for it!

Security blankets

Linus had his blanket.  Christopher Robin had Pooh.  I have my cell phone!  (Well, I also have Bearnard when I am sleeping.)

It may not be cuddly or live under a tree named Sanders, but it speaks to me in words that make my life richer.

It's kind of like carrying your best friend in your pocket. 

Always there to share something special, or offer advice.  Always ready with a kind word, or encouraging words.  Always, always, always....

There is real security in that.

Unconditional

"I could have loved you better, didn't mean to be unkind.  You know that was the last thing on my mind."  The lyrics belong to Tom Paxton, but the song belongs to my past.

Compassion seems to be creeping into my life in unexpected and uncomfortable places.  I find myself looking at life from the other side, from the side of "the enemy" so to speak and not feeling the old angst anymore.

I'm not sure where that comes from, but I do know it is real because it is even permeating my dreams.

Perhaps it is because I have experienced truly unconditional love from someone for the first time in a long time, at least someone outside the family framework.

There is amazing grace and power in unconditional love.  It is perhaps one of the rarest things on earth.  Most people talk about it, but very few people have offered it to me.

Most love seems to come with strings, or at least threads, attached.  If I snap those connections I know the love goes with them.  In the past I thought this WAS love.

Now I know better and it is making me a softer, kinder, richer person.

Nightmares

This is the age of Technology!

I remember when my mother-in-law had trouble learning to use a calculator.  I swore I would never find myself in that position.

Today technology changes so quickly that simply using it probably keeps the mind active and alert--or it simply drives one over the edge!

My computer died while I away from home.  On the way home I traded my cell phone car jack for a Bluetooth headset.  Once I arrived at home I saw that the new modem for my cable television and internet had arrived.  Shortly after that my new computer arrived via snail mail.

Setting everything up involved so many unknowns that I was never sure what was working and what was about to work and what was never gonna work cause I do things intuitively and intuition is just about nil on brand new unknown items.

The past days have been a nightmare!  The new modem did not work, but it also turned out that the new computer had connection problems!  Due to one or the other of these my Roku box was not working and the Internet connection on my cell phone was messed up too! 

I was stranded on the lost planet of No Technology!

I think I am now rescued and about to start re-entry.

Yes, I have no computer

I have no computer today!

My computer died this week and I will be without until the new one comes!

Until then I will have thots, but they will be a mystery!

Friend to friend

It's a small world after all!

I leave a friend's house, drive ten hours and get up to drive another two and a half hours to another friend's house.  While there I visit with more friends before getting in my car and driving three more hours visiting my sister and eventually going home.

That seems like a lot of driving, but imagine the days before cars.  It took all day to go twenty miles!  Now I can jump from friend to friend across the country in a matter of hours and although it may not be efficient to visit my way home, it is comforting.

Parting is such sweet sorrow, but even sweet sorrow hurts and has a tendency to lie heavy in the heart.  It could be a long time until that prophetic tomorrow.  I need to fill the hole quickly and with lots of love in order to make it through.

Like a child jumping on the bed I leap from friend to friend, cushioning myself from the feelings that fall on me in unsuspecting moments, keeping my world small and sweet so that the present is more than a way to the future.

Stopping for hugs along the way, sharing the joy that lies deep within me, and being both busy and useful I move along life's way at my own pace.

Order

Order is one of the things that simplifies living. 

If I am not thinking about what to do I can focus more on how I'm doing.

I find that comfortable in so many ways.

So here is to order and routine!

Like the rhythm in a band, or the beating of a heart, it sets the pace and keeps things on track.

Tongue and cheek

There is nothing quite like a marathon drive to test my mettle!

I got up at 2:30AM and left at 2:45AM, to arrive at 5:16PM!  My legs still work.  My back is good.  My temper?

Well it is a bit fractious, but under control.  I want kudos!  I want recognition!  I want people to see I'm still young enough to pull this off and silly enough to do it!

I zipped down the highway singing along with my favorite CDs, stopping only for breakfast and gas. Not necessarily in that order.  I have to have a Hardees sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit when I do these sorts of things.

All was well until the last gas station.  I filled my tank, went inside to use the ladies' room, and returned to discover something stolen!

It was my face!  When I looked in the mirror I didn't see the long dark haired beauty I imagined was there.  Instead there was a woman who resembled my mother staring back at me, red hair and all. I didn't even try to report it.  No one believes in body snatchers anymore.

I am now stuck with this old body, but it is still wrapped around a very young heart. 

It's harder to steal that since I wear it on my sleeve.

Here

A day spent waiting can be unbelievably long.

Minutes turn into hours and hours into days.  Nothing gets done because I am already in the future and it's hard to work here from there!

Then, in the final hour, I scurry to do all those things that will allow me to transition into tomorrow, into the place I have dreamed about today.

It is a dangerous time, a time when expectations lie in wait ready to pounce on me and devour my hopes with cannibalistic fervor.  What should have been simple and sweet may be loaded down like an overworked donkey carrying ice from the Andes, hurrying along as cold water drips down his legs making a slippery slope of every step.

Tomorrow is lost to me if I don't let go of all this baggage.  Like one of those old fashioned roll up shades, I give a quick tug and it flies up, disappearing into itself.  Still there, but no longer blocking my view of what is right before me.

Now I step into this day with the freedom and joy of a child.  Open to whatever comes and ready to love it.

Nooks and Crannies

My apartment is perfect in the morning.  The kitchen is sunny and bright, cheerful to a perfect extreme.  The bedroom a simple diffused lightness that encourages me to work and read, and even sleep!  The living room is a dark, shabby chic elegant room that suits my needs perfectly.  I am constantly amazed by all of this.  I walk into a room and stop to simply stare.

My life is the same. Wonderful pieces so diverse one might never suspect they came from the same life, all mixed up and connected only because they belong to me.

I think that is what makes living so delicious, all the little nooks and crannies that are there in perfectly ordinary places.

Knowing

There is power is naming things, or so I've been told.  Know someone's name and you have power over him.  Know what the disease is and then it can be treated.  "Knowing is half the battle."  It is comfortable to "know."
 
In a black and white world good guys and bad guys, healthy and dying, right and wrong, believer and nonbeliever, efficiently slip into slots gobbling up simplicity in favor of actuality.

One of the problems with thinking I "know" is that I feel comfortable no longer looking for more.

People don't believe in fairy tales because they "know" there are no such things as ogres and trolls, witches and devils, but let me tell you a secret.  Real monsters just don't look the way you might think.  Hiding behind different names, they are smarter in real life, masquerading as beautiful, rich, popular, successful creatures in positions where they do great things for the people around them and even mankind.  That's the secret to true evil.

On the flip side of this, because there is always an equal and opposite something, are those who are the ugly, poor, unpopular and seemingly unsuccessful creatures who turn out to be princes in disguise.

And the confusing part is that these creatures can be one and the same.

When the pantry is invaded by ants and someone gets rid of them that person is both a hero and a monster wiping out an entire colony of living creatures.  Justification comes from "knowing" certain things and believing them.

Perhaps the power in naming is not discovering someone's name, but in getting the name you want.

A walk in the park

I was up walking by 6:30 this morning.  The park is cooler then and the world is different.

Gone are the teenagers swinging, three in a row, laughing and taking advantage of those last years the world lets them be kids.

Gone are the young mothers with their babies in the infant swings watching as their older children ride big wheels up and down the shady cross walks in the park.

Gone are the dog walkers with all their varied furry friends hoping vainly for the chance to run free and frolic with the squirrels making fun of them from the trees.

Instead there is the man who sleeps on a picnic table drinking beer out of a tall can as he loads up his shopping cart before setting off to collect cans around the neighborhood.

And there are young couples walking, the guys drinking coffee, the girls bundled up in over sized sweatshirts as they flirt and woo their way to health with dewy eyed freshness.

The die-hard environmentalists are out there plucking every tiny cigarette butt out of the grass with a paper napkin.  They also pick up the beer cans and chip bags and all the other stuff that would ruin the park for the rest of us if left untouched.

There are three crows, a  large one and two younger ones who watch me and discuss things in Crow I can't understand, and who don't even bother to fly away from me.

And there is me, one once gray-haired woman hobbling around the park on new orthotics with a phone breaking into the more natural sounds to announce whenever she has conquered another mile.

The chance of a life time

 Once, long long ago, when I was twelve years old, we moved to a house in the country.  There were trees to climb, apples to make apple sauce from growing in the yard, a horse tethered in the back, even old outbuildings to turn into forts and club houses.  It should have been an idyllic summer.

Later we moved back into town, into the house we had lived in all through my elementary school years.  I got to paint my bedroom the color I wanted, I had a glow in the dark clock with a space capsule for a second hand, and I began dating a boy who drove a TR3.  Life should have been almost perfect.

Finally, just before my senior year we moved to that charming little town you read about in books and see in movies.  Our house had a big wrap around porch, Grandma's house was a short walk away.  We had a monkey and a parrot for pets as well as a large German Shepard dog.  People sang opera and Italian love songs in the local grocery store.  And I was offered the chance to travel, to see parts of the country I had never seen before.  The chance of a life time.

I wanted to go and I didn't want to go, but my mother talked me into it.  My brother and I would go with our uncle while my other brother and sister went with my dad to see our Grandmother in Texas.  Everyone would get a vacation while my mother stayed home and took care of business.  It should have been perfect.

Instead it was hard!  I found myself in unfamiliar situations that should have been adventures.  The mountains of West Virginia and the culture of a coal mining town were fascinating, but I was homesick.  Not just for my family, I was really with family, but for the peace and stability of a life where everything wasn't changing, where the only stability was my mom and dad.  I knew, when I returned I would be going to a new school, living in a new house, making new friends, getting ready to go off to college.  I was saturated with changes and that trip was just one thing too many.

I was miserable and I made everyone else miserable.  In the end my brother and I went home on a rattle trap old bus filled with people eating lunch out of plastic bags and carrying baskets of things with them to other small mountain towns.  We ended up waiting hours in a dirty little bus stop in Ohio until our parents showed up to take us home and the trip home was hot and cramped and long.

But I remember how happy I was to be in that car, my brother sleeping on one side of the back seat while I chattered incessantly to my parents over the back of the front seat.  I was home!

Home was wherever my parents were, wherever we were all together and no matter where that was I needed the safety and security of that, especially with so many life changes coming up ahead of me.

Vestigial hope

It's hard to believe that everyone is just doing the best he or she can.  It sure doesn't seem that way and yet I know that almost no one chooses to suffer needlessly.

So why do people do things they know have not worked in the past?  Why repeat and repeat and repeat the mistakes of old?

I suppose it comes down to that old idea of random reinforcement.  We are such creatures of hope that even one teeny tiny step forward is enough to make us believe what is being done will work -- this time.

I want to believe that -- to believe that it is a vestigial hope that pushes people to continue doing something that has little hope of achieving what they want, but I think it is often something else.

Fear of the unknown, the new, or untried ways is a real road block, or feeling bad feels good because it is the norm.

And the worst one of all is the thought that the desire to change anything or help someone is not the real goal, some people simply want to feel good so it really doesn't matter what happens in the long run as long as it feels good in the short haul.

How do I help people like that?  Why do I even try?

I suppose it is that old vestigial hope.

Or maybe love.

One life at a time

The secret to peace is probably more about letting go than perseverance.

Perseverance gets me where I want to go, but the price can be high.   Kind of like walking uphill all the time.

Experience can dictate what appears to be heartlessness when in fact it is only being realistic.   Some people are continual drama and that wears me down, especially since nothing I do is ever really going to change it.

So I pick and choose the drama I do deal with and let the rest go in a sigh of relief.

I can only live one life at a time and I choose my own.

Staying on track

I have spent the better part of sixty years trying to want what I thought was "right" and the anxiety that produced was enormous.

There was nothing worse than striving for something that had no real meaning to me.  It was like wearing the facade on an old run down building.  Inside I was crawling with doubts, filled with dissatisfaction and mostly just empty.

Of course the basic me was in there and often very content, or even happy doing those things that really did matter to me, raising my children, teaching preschool, writing even if no one read it.

It was all the rest that made it hard.

Trying to be something I am not is possible.  I've done it for years, but it isn't comfortable.

I can take charge and run things.  I can chat inanely in social circles.  I can perform in front of people.  I can do almost anything I set my mind to, but it drains me physically, mentally and emotionally.

Retirement, for me, has not been so much not working because I volunteer more than I worked much of the time, but it has been not doing those things that make me uncomfortable.

I am not the misfit I always thought I was.  I am just on a different track than most of the people I have lived around.  

When I can stay on my own track life is better than I ever dreamed it could be.

The Truth Factor

Truth may have many aspects, but without truth there is no trust.  I want to help, but not be manipulated because help should make sense and lead to some logical conclusion.

When truth begins to morph like a crazy amoeba trying to escape a pot of boiling water my tolerance drops to zero.

 The urge to stick a spoon into that water and offer a way out conflicts with a desire to pour the whole thing down the drain.

Any help I give may turn out to be wrong because I don't know what is truly going on.

What is the point of helping someone out if they are only going to crawl into another bad place? 

Life is a series of decisions and learning to make good ones means doing uncomfortable things once in a while but it is also a cumulative process and each step's effectiveness depends on the validity of the one before it.

Truth is complicated and simple.  It factors in all the thoughts, feelings, situations--and the closer they come to reality the more likely a good solution is.

The whole show

I am a whole creature and so are you whether you believe it or not.

I know some people like to believe that what you see is what you get, but there are lots of things you don't see you still get!  Air, germs, thoughts, oops . . . I see my thoughts.

Of course I feel air too and get sick when germs find me so maybe that makes them easier to believe in, but what about feelings?

Maybe feelings are just thoughts gone wild?  Things I imagine, or make up because it is cool to be so dramatic, so in touch with the world?

Feelings are as real as the hand on my arm, or the beating of my heart.  They pack a punch that can put me down with a stomach ache.  They are strong enough to carry me through unimaginable ordeals. 

In fact, feelings may be what is left over from when my species were still living in caves, what kept us alive before telephones and early warning systems.

They are certainly something that links me to others in ways I never dreamed of.  I am a whole creature attached to the whole!

What we want

Children want what we all want.

Attention.

Love.

A sense of importance that says I am needed and I can contribute.

We are here to lead the next generation and be its cheering squad so we need to get our priorities straight.

It is not enough to appear to have an affluent life style and act happy. There are too many people living that lie already and none of them are truly content.

Hedonism is an extreme, but joy is not an unattainable life style.  It comes from doing what I love and each of us has something we love that can benefit humanity.

Good parents, good schools, a good education in general takes a child's abilities and makes them proud to have and use them-- whatever they are.

Life is but a dream

I dream I am out on a tennis court again!

Hitting balls.  Running.  The adrenalin picking up until I feel the old high.

I hear the ball and know from the sound exactly which part of the racquet I hit it with, the sweet spot, the rim....the handle?!!!!  

I watch as the ball powers down into the far corner, over and over and over.  Unfortunately not always on the right side of the line.

My opponent is a dreamy guy who doesn't mind chasing balls that go down the court or over the fence.  He is content to hit balls right to me and never says a mean word.

I don't ever want to wake up!

But I'm not asleep!

The way we were

Born perfect.

Children don't love tall perfectly proportioned people with svelte figures and high IQ's. They love warm voices and soft arms that snuggle them close to hearts that beat with kindness.

Age and beauty are meaningless to a young child.  He only knows who likes to play and who doesn't, who is sweet and who is bitter and even then he finds that incrementally small smidgen of sweetness when no one else can.

The road to ruin begins when children become trapped in the misconceptions and lies of the adults around them.  Their brows begin to furrow.  Their eyes narrow.  Their mouths twist in judgement and clouds of anxiety start to form over their heads.

We wouldn't need to search for the fountain of youth if we could just slip the ties that blind.

Tomorrow

I don't remember finding the bottle.   I can't remember rubbing it, or seeing a genie rise up out of it.  I don't recollect telling that genie all my dearest wishes, but I must have done that!

Days, hours, minutes, could not become any more perfect than they were today.

I began my day reading in a summer breeze by the most picturesque river you can imagine.

Follow that up with a walk along another river flanked by hyacinths, heroic old pine trees, beautiful birds and a frolicking dog.

Add my first glimpse of Jame's Agee's manuscripts in his own handwriting followed by a little girl who shared her hula hoop with me and spending time with my best friend in the whole world and that was not the end!

I sat listening to a private concert by a musician who sang just to me before a gourmet dinner complete with wine and now I am writing my thots before crawling under the covers to go to sleep.

I wonder what tomorrow could possibly bring?  I won't even try to guess, because I never could have imagined this one!