Too much

My body doesn't need needles and tests to know when it needs help.

The very night I eat the wrong things it begins hammering at my mind. Telling me I've had too much sugar, too many carbs, too much, too much, too much . . .

Sharp pains throb through my big toe.

Burning pain lights up my second toe.

I dream of drinking water that does not slake my thirst.

And I awaken soaked in perspiration.

My body is acutely tuned in to the way it is treated and it is impossible to fool it.

Love

A heart typed in a text. Four letters written on paper. Three words that stir hearts

But love is so much more.

The seed is there in the touching and dreaming.

The flower grows miraculous things.

But love itself spans time and space, heaven and earth, infinity and even more.

It overflows out of hearts so great that the universe cannot contain them,

fills eternity with something bigger than thoughts,

bigger than dreams,

bigger than being.

That is love.

Surviving retirement

I finally figured out why people retire.

Once you reach a certain age, just maintaining the status quo takes a lot more time than it once did.

The urge to veg out in front of the computer, or television, is pretty great. After all, it is a comfy warm place in the winter and comfy cool one in the summer, so the idea that I should get up and brave the elements isn't always all that alluring.

Food is the same sort of situation. Now I can afford the food I love and I have the time to prepare and eat it, I discover most of it isn't all that good for me. I can still eat, but I need to moderate the types and amount of food if I want to die with all my toes intact. (And not do it in the too near future.)

My schedule now includes all sorts of tactics for getting me out and moving and not eating when most of my life the plan was to be efficient and satisfied.

The truth is, there are other satisfactions, but changing the rewards is almost as hard as changing the habits. Now I go to book club not just because I love to read, but it gets me up and out on a day when nothing else is scheduled. Same goes for coffees and concerts, movies and games. Being social is not just fun, it is obligatory if I want to survive retirement as gracefully as possible. (Although, does anyone survive retirement?)

Healthy

Every morning I drive past a billboard advertising a new beauty school in town. I don't remember the name, but I can't forget the woman they choose to use as a representative of what they can (produce? I guess.)

She is a smooth faced young woman with dusky red hair, sultry eyes and a semi pouty mouth, which I suppose is symbolic of the high fashion models we see today.

I can't help thinking how sad and rather unpleasant she looks. Why do we not want healthy, happy, looking models to sell our products?

If the ideal person is one of these professional looking models then I worry that we are looking to unhappy people to become the ideal breeding stock of our race. We will be a species of sad, sultry, slightly belligerent, very thin, looking individuals with very even features and smooth skin.

For the ideal of a healthy mind in a healthy body, many of us may only make it halfway there.

That's not healthy.

Gone by

Reading glasses everywhere.

Gentle reminders of eyes that no longer

look back at me in the lamplight

she found so engaging.

Graciousness personified,

from an age gone by.

She has gone by too now

but I will remember her

in the light

that puddles before my eyes.

And that's the truth

I know what it is to have money.

I've had it in the past.

I was also brought up to understand what the good things in life are even when I couldn't have them.

There is nothing wrong with any of those things as long as I don't let them define my happiness.

All my life I have been surrounded by people who live in an entirely different stratosphere.

I've taken a million vicarious vacations that would stun anyone who could appreciate not really being there.

But I have also experienced true sorrow and I know that no amount of money can make some of that better.

So I've learned to love my vicarious vacations and wealthy friends and value them for the things we share in common.

And especially for the joy, compassion, empathy, and just sheer goodness of their beings.

Kindness

The idea that I can begin again, start fresh, simply start over, feels frightening.

Surely there must be a catch?

Is it possible that I can have almost unlimited chances to succeed?

There must be some punishment, some negative consequence to not succeeding, not being perfect, not getting it right?

Of course there is the delay in finishing that comes from not getting it right the first time and there is possible slow erosion that occurs over time that might make the final result less than quintessential . . .

But . . .

The alternative is stopping and not much could be worse than that.

So, I will just be kind to myself when I fall short and allow myself to start again.

Some people don't call that failure.

They call it perseverance!

The enemy within

I struggle against the enemy within

The spirit who comes

To make me stronger

And wiser

And is willing to kill me

Or succeed.

The blame game

No one wants to believe that what they did, or are doing, causes their problems.

Some of us are more realistic than others and some are rewriting the fairy tales with new ogres and villains casting the curses.

I know one person who blames poverty, poor health and life in general for his situation and all of that is valid to some degree. It does cost more to eat healthy, but there is a line between eating cheaper and eating too many carbs, or too much sugar.

There is also a line between being generous and over spending. 

The bad health that follows years of drinking and smoking and the poverty that follows poor choices is ruthless.

The bravado of the frightened, poorly informed people who dot our lives tries to soften the horrible truth, but they are disintegrating piece by piece in slow and agonizing ways.

I am trying to learn from them rather than follow in their footsteps.

Yesterday I was tired

Yesterday I could not walk.

Today I could not stop.

Heel. Toe. Heel. Toe.

One foot in front of the other.

Keep going.

Discount Tire. Grocery store.

Old Raab road.

Just a little bit more.

Yesterday I was so tired.

Today I was not.

Heel. Toe. Heel. Toe.

One foot in front of the other.

Keep on going.

Around the apartments. Around the pond.

Around my reluctance.

Will my fat abscond?

Generations

Just as I am about to write that turning another year older is just like being six, I am proved wrong.

Not that I am turning another year older until next November, but today I experienced a small setback that would never have bothered me when I was six.

I ran out of steam walking this morning and it was probably because of helping my daughter move yesterday. The unaccustomed trips up and down a very small flight of steps left my legs sore and crampy. Then, because I walked too fast on my first mile, I was too tired to finish the whole walk today.

I was able to go back out this afternoon and do another set, so all is well, but it was an eye opener.

Turning six came up because my friend turned 70 yesterday and we were talking about how much younger we think we feel and look compared to our parents and older generations. I do believe that is true, but maybe  we are not as young as we might like to think!

Crazy

Just keep going.

Some days are so busy that they are overwhelming before I even get out of bed.

Today was one of those days.

I realized that the breakfast I was going to was actually a birthday bash and I didn't even have a card, so a stop to buy one was in the immediate future.

The people ahead of me in line left their money in the car and I ended up waiting for them to go get it before I could buy the card. 

Then Bestest called while I was paying for the card and I felt terrible that I couldn't talk.

I had to leave the breakfast early to go pick up my daughter and take her to get the key to her new apartment.

Then we made a million trips moving her in.

The idiot light came on in my car and I had to go get the oil changed.

I came home tonight and realized I hadn't done any of the usual things I need to do every day, including walking two miles.

I actually managed to do them all!

I should sleep good tonight.

Best Interests

Driving home from school today, I looked at the clock and thought, "48 years ago this minute I was saying I will to the man I would spend the next thirty years with." It was not what I expected it to be, but then few things ever are.

Now I am engaged in a great plan for self renewal testing whether a woman my age can actually manage to combat Diabetes type II with exercise and diet. In most ways it seems to be working.

I am pushing 69 years of age and still feel capable of doing pretty much everything I could do 35 years ago. In fact, I am currently able to do a few things I couldn't do 35 years ago!

It's like my geeky sweatshirt says, "Intelligence is the ability to adapt to change." That's a quote from Stephen Hawkings and I love it.

Some people may feel that adapting is the same thing as just giving in, or following, but I don't believe that. Adapting is taking the current situation and making it work in your best interests.

I hope to continue adapting as long as I live.

Self esteem

I feel so much better about myself when I feel in control.

Control.

Such a complicated concept. One that has eliminated, or ruined whole countries.

And yet, without some of it there would be total anarchy and chaos.

I have trouble with self-control. Reigning in that part of me that wants to blurt out exactly how I feel in a given moment, eat everything in front of me, buy whatever I'm thinking of . . . there is a sort of high that comes from doing whatever you want in the moment with great passion, but there is also a price to pay.

The long range price for me is deteriorating health and impending poverty.

The short range price is a sense of failure, impending doom, dissatisfaction and unease because I know when I am out of control.

And, according to GI Joe, knowing is half the battle, so whenever I am able to reign myself in before I hit the downhill slope, I feel a real sense of pride.

Promises

They come skipping, lilting, promising

But mostly with pride and promises

Of things that will not be

Could never be

Things educated people don't even dare to dream

But everyone wants.

Milk and honey, birds and bees, sunshine and promises

Prideful, rich, rolling in money, breaded in hope

Fried in hot oil to hide the foulness within.

They come slithering and boasting, promising

Stepping all over the common folk

Like rungs on a ladder

Using them, willing sacrificial lambs,

To rise to the top.

These are the false messiahs.

You

Believe!

The most important thing in your life is to really believe what you profess to believe in.

Whatever that is.

Even if it is only that when a blue heron flies over, it means good luck and everything will be better.

Whatever you believe will manifest for you if you really believe it.

If it doesn't?

Then you don't really believe as much as you think.

You can't just say something and make it happen.

You really have to believe.

Work on it.

Volunteer

Every year I sign up for two afternoons of it.

Twice a week I get up and go. 

Volunteer.

Not out of some distant urge to help humanity

But because I like it.

Like shelving books by number and letter.

Like checking them in and checking them out.

Like the children who come to carry them away

And bring them back.

Some so they can get another.

Some for the prize of an eraser or bookmark

That they will never put in a book.

Twice a week I get up and go

Volunteer,

So I can play librarian with the children

Who come to be volunteered to.

Nevermore

Sometimes I can feel the world changing

And I want to rein it in

Stop it

Keep everything the way it is

Forever more

But then I know that is impossible

And now will nevermore be now again

Because now it is nevermore.

Daughter of Ariadne

My finger touches the thread.

Feeling.

Waiting.

Wondering.

Going around and around.

Finding new paths.

Sometimes I see the old ways,

Winding right along beside me

And know it would only take a side step,

Or a misstep and I could be right back where I was.

Except, it wouldn't be, because this is now

And that was then.

So I'm seeing things different

And feeling them different

And probably walking differently too.

Because things change.

Some loads are harder to carry than others.

Some almost carry me.

But it's the movement I cherish.

Keeping my finger on the thread,

Knowing if I keep putting one foot in front of another,

Something will change

And that's the adventure.

My coat of only one color

I ordered a coat online. It was very cute and very unique. Just what I was looking for.

It finally came and although I had expected it to possibly be too big, it turned out to be way too short and slightly snug in the shoulders.

I was so disappointed.

I'm not sure exactly what disappointed me more though. The fact that it didn't fit of course, but it just wasn't what I expected.

I decided to give it to my daughter who is nearly a foot shorter than I am and slightly smaller across the shoulders, but I couldn't give it to her the way it came through the mail. The wool was all wrinkled and it just looked shoddy. So today I sprinkled it with water and threw it in the dryer for twenty minutes.

Suddenly I loved it!

It still didn't fit.

It's the only way to go

Where there's a will, there's a way and nothing shows that better than my daughter's upcoming move.

After years of setbacks she has finally worked her way into a new apartment.

The bed came from one person, a double reclining sofa from another, a microwave from one person and dinnerware and silverware from another, and today, even a top notch vacuum cleaner!

She has pots and pans and a television, plus someone has offered her another television and living room chair, so she can start out more than comfortable and even in style!

And she's managed this mostly on her own with a bit of help from her boyfriend and me, but don't think he will be paying half the bills, because it is her apartment. He might visit, but it is her home.

I am very proud of her.

Matching

It was one of those days!

Cold enough for the reindeeer to be happy and warm enough for the wolves to come out of their dens and lie in the sun.

Warm enough for the Wallabies to zip around their enclosure with playful zeal and cold enough for the turtles to be grateful they were inside.

Sunny enough to feed the goats and watch the seals sunbathe on their cold, wet, rocks.

Warm enough for us to visit the zoo and cold enough to wear our winter coats.

The snow leopards had their winter coats on too, so we all kind of matched.

It all starts with you

Grown ups often take very good care of children.

They feed them right. Make sure they get enough sleep. Make time for them to play and read and exercise.

Why?

Because we love them!

We should learn to be just as good to ourselves. There is a worthy little person living inside all of us who deserves just as much love and care.

If for no other reason than it is good to practice on ourselves. Then we know how it really feels.

Glitterbugs

I have been walking more lately, between two and four miles a day in two increments. Somehow that leaves me with less to say here instead of more.

Until today when I saw the strangest creature lying by the car wash entrance.

It looked like a very large green slug except that it was covered in gold glittery speckles. It appeared to be dead since it didn't move when I nudged it, but I took a picture of it anyway.

Then I continued walking as my mind conjured up the story of the mystery critter.

I decided it must be a Glitterbug.

Really a very large caterpillar that would soon encompass it's entire body in a pale green cocoon, like Monarch butterflies do. With a little gold tip on the end.

It would sleep until June and then emerge as a giant blue and gold butterfly that like to feed off of oranges and other sweet fruits seldom found in this area.

When it was fully emerged and its wings were dry, this butterfly would do something no other butterfly does. It would sing!

Well, not really sing. Much like a cricket rubbing its legs together, it would use its antennae to emit a high warbling sound that only very small children with excellent ears could hear. And . . . of course other Glitterbug butterflies who would be attracted so they could mate and produce eggs that they would lay among the prickly thorns of red Floribunda roses.

The babies would emerge all green and gold and sparkly to crawl around eating rose leaves until they were also ready to make cocoons. Or until some bird or other animal would gobble them up or carry them away, because that was their one fault. As very large, very beautiful babies, they were easy to spot caterpillars in a world of less beautiful ones.

That makes them very rare. Especially in this part of the country and I decided I was very fortunate to get to see one.

Beautiful Glitterbugs!

Miracles

The way you look at things says a lot about who you are.

I was coloring Easter eggs with my granddaughter when she let one of her eggs sit a long time in one position. There was even an oval on the egg where it never got any dye at all.

To some people this might be a huge flaw.

To her it was almost a miracle!

She could not get over how that beautiful miniature egg appeared on her Easter egg.

I never even thought about it not being a miracle till hours after she went home.

April snow

The snow lies deep and silent in the moonlight of an Easter night and what should evoke peace and calm and feelings of coziness because I am warm and dry, does not.

Instead I think that nature is playing a particularly unkind April Fool's joke on me and the little sparrows whose nest is tucked into the eaves above my porch.

April showers are supposed to bring May flowers, but April snows?

They freeze the blossoms right on the Tulip Magnolia tree and cover up the puddle of water the duck couple have been floating around in when they are not off sitting on their eggs somewhere.

No matter how disappointed and dispirited I am feeling I know I am better off than the young families trying to incubate their young among the frozen tundra of old corn fields and icy ditches and frigid porches.

Deep

I had brunch with someone who looked beautiful today.

She was more luminous than I have ever seen her look.

But it was mostly looks and that really disappointed me.

She wasn't particularly kind to anyone at the table, not even her boy friend who is willing to drive down to help her out on a day when he must drive two hours in both directions to do so.

I know she was a special needs child, but I wish she could be a little less self-centered around the people she loves.

She had no interest in spending time with the one daughter who was with us and was very critical of everything she did. It's hard to know if this beauty is only skin deep, or if the beauty is deep, but the disabilities are deeper.