What Can You Give?

We have just gotten through the holiday season.  The media has told us that spending our hard earned dollars is an economic indicator.  This year it felt like going to the mall was elevated to a patriotic event.  The more that we spent the more our sad economy would recover and then all would be right with our world.  I understand the principle, but it makes me feel a little bit nauseous. Don't get me wrong.  I am not a Grinch - I love Christmas! I love buying gifts for my loved ones.I just don't know when it stopped being about Christmas and became a power sport.

So now that we have made it to the finish line with the holiday/boosting the economy spending, I am writing about something that I have been doing for the past 5 or 6 months, that has absolutely no effect on the economy and certainly doesn't boost my bottom line, but makes me feel good none-the-less. I give away my money. No, I am not talking about giving my money to tax deductible worthy companies, like the Red Cross, although I do that too.  I give my money to pan-handlers or anyone that I see that looks like they haven't slept under a roof for a while.

You see, for years when I passed these folks standing at the side of the road with their cardboard signs, I felt angry.  I would mumble about the riff-raff that the city did nothing about.  Why didn't they round them up and put them in shelters so that I wouldn't have to see them? I only gave my money to upstanding organizations that did good in the world for me. As hard as it is for me to admit, I think that I wanted to punish them somehow - like driving by without a glance is punishment. Why didn't they just get a job? I work hard for my money - why should I give it to people who will misuse it? Then about a year ago, while driving past a man with his ratty cardboard sign I realized that the thoughts that were in my mind at that moment did not reflect who I wanted to be.

I spent the next few months fighting with my angry thoughts every time I saw a pan-handler.  I tried to see him as he was on the day that he was born - pure and full of potential.  It would work for a moment, but then with the next person by the side of the road all the angry thoughts would flow out of my heart again. One day, after several months of this, I spent a few minutes after my meditation practice and asked in prayer how to rid my heart of these negative thoughts. The answer came immediately and was - give them money. I didn't like that answer and asked again - how do I get rid of these negative thoughts?  And again the answer was - give them money. OK, I thought if that's answer, I will do it.  I immediately went to my wallet and pulled out all the $1.00 bills that I had and put them in my car.

The next day as I was driving into town to pick up my mail, I was filled with eager anticipation to follow through and give my money to the next pan-handler that I could find.  Of course when I was looking for someone to give to, there was absolutely no one around.  It took a few days, but finally there was a man with a sign and I pulled up and rolled down my window.  As I handed the money to him I looked into his eyes and what I saw rocked my world. This was a man, and it didn't matter what choices or events had landed him on the street - he could have been my brother or son and he was valuable. That's it. All the anger left me. What a gift.

So that is what I do.  I would like to be able to afford to give more than $1 bills.  My goal this year is to up it to $5. I think I might be able to pull that off. You see, what I get out of this far exceeds what they get. I now see the people that I felt uncomfortable seeing as valuable. And face it - if they are valuable, then maybe I am too.  What can you give?

The Far Frontier of dating

All right friends, here it is.  The final frontier has been crossed.  I took a leap into the abyss of dating and.... I really sucked at it.

What prompted me to think dating was something I was prepared for? I was so unprepared. Instead of witty conversation, I spent most of the dinner portion of the evening talking about my deceased husband, children, and I am sure I got in a word or two about my grandson.  Holy cow, I imagine that eHarmony is groaning at the lack of proper 1st date etiquette.  And then....

He invited me back to his house to listen to his totally amazing sound system, which is his passion in life. Really?? Unprepared, I found myself completely at a loss as to how to navigate that...... So, I went. As I walked into his lovely home, he asked me to sit in an armchair, put my head back and RELAX.  What???  I had chosen not to have a glass of wine at dinner and I was supposed to relax? The last time I was alone with a man listening to his sound system I was 20 and in college and I ended up marrying him! Did he somehow miss the fact that I have lived the life of a cloistered widow woman the past 5 years?  No, I don't think he missed it. The poor guy was doing his best, but spectacular music not withstanding, I bolted as soon as the opportunity to bolt appeared. Oh, but it does get better. 

It was a cold night in Boulder and my trusty '98 Rav4 has issues with cold and the power-steering. Unless the car is properly warmed up, the minute I try to turn the steering wheel the car emits the most god-awful squealing sounds. To make sure that the whole neighborhood hadn't missed it, I had to make a U turn right in front of his house - since he lives on a dead end street. Utter humiliation.

I was never so happy to open my front door to the waiting love and enthusiasm of Tucker the dog! Safe, warm and wagging tail, he gets me. And then I relaxed.

A Painful Admission

Note to self: when applying shimmery lip gloss, be certain that at no time should a piece of shimmer get stuck in the middle age lip lines that spoke out from my still quite adequate lips.  The errant sparkle just seems to shimmer and highlight the oh so lovely lines, which no amount of highly expensive anti-aging products seems to be able to master.

I know that I have been blogging a lot about age lately.  Face it, once you hit a certain birthday, aging becomes your Unknown Zone.  Show me a book about this type of Unknown.

There are books about puberty.  My mother placed such a book outside my bedroom door along with a box of Kotex pads.  After dinner that night she asked me if I had any questions.  Mortified, I said no and quickly got up from the table.  After all, we had a class and movie in school which explained everything.  Well, not really, but whatever else I needed to know my friends were happy to supply.

There are lots of books about parenting.  In fact there are shelves of books in Barnes and Noble about how to be a perfect parent.  I don't think I ever read one, which might explain.....no dammit, I was a perfect Mom! :)  Well, aside from the cussing, maybe.

There are plenty of books about menopause.  None that were helpful to me, but nonetheless I did try to read some of them. I just happened to be the book buyer at Kripalu when menopause hit.  I ordered every book on menopause that I could find. Hey, they just flew off the shelves!

However, I don't think that books on parenting and books on menopause really cover what I am experiencing right now.  The science of aging is not what I need to know about.  My mother's aging doesn't apply (even if she left a book outside my door). Those of us who are over 50 are not looking at being the same kind of senior citizens that we have known in the past.  There is no pension, no retirement, and maybe no social security or medicare for me on the horizon. I am not trying to be a downer, but the playing field has shifted.

The fact is, I sometimes wish it was like when we were in the 7th grade.  As each of us attained woman hood we shared all the details with our friends.  We learned about which lipsticks worked best, how to use a razor for the first time, or how a tampon worked better than a pad. It was an exciting time.  We were becoming women.

I can't think of one of my friends (and I love all of my friends!) who has texted me lately saying "hey watch out when you apply the shimmery lip gloss!)  I don't think as a group we are as excited about the new becoming as we were. I think that this aging process is a mixed bag, but regardless of how this process has effected us, we are all in it.  My friends are truly warrior goddesses. Marathon running, belly dancing, Harley riding hot mama's. Yet, I am not sure if any of us are really, truly comfortable with this process. It hits us all in different ways, but it still hits us at some point.  Whether we color our hair or not, whether we hop on a Harley or walk our dog, this journey is just as inevitable as puberty.

And I just want to wear shimmery lip gloss to highlight my still rather nice lips.

Growing Old(er)

The other day I went to my mailbox to see what was waiting for me. A check perhaps? No, what I found was an over sized post card selling me hearing aides and a mailing from the Dignity Memorial people hoping that I will do my end of life planning with them at their convenient location in Boulder.

I have nothing against hearing aides or end of life planning.  My kids can rest easy knowing that my "final expenses" are covered.  Those aren't my words, but I think I saw an ad on TV suggesting that my kids should be relieved of that burden.

I don't get a lot of mail and when I do it is mostly bills and work related materials. That is OK.  But somehow I have gotten onto a "senior citizen" list.  Am I a senior citizen already?  When exactly did that happen?

When I look in a mirror I clearly see that I am not 30 or 40 anymore.  I am very aware that I am a few birthdays past the big Five O.  Not a problem. I don't even mind when my daughter tells me that I drive like a senior citizen.  By the way, she could not clarify exactly what it was about my driving that seemed particularly "seniorish". If you are going to make the claim, you better be able to follow up with specifics.  After all my aging brain might have trouble with nuance.

I do know that with each passing day, the grim reaper hovers ever closer. But listen up folks, I feel great!  I am active and happy. My hearing is fine. I don't need Depends. I can get in and out of my bathtub without trouble. I don't need a HoveRound scooter. I really don't think I need Life Alert quite yet. I have a few more good years left in these old bones.

Beware, all you corporate marketer's eager to add me to your list!  I am spending my money LIVING my life.  I buy good food and great wine to consume with my loved ones. I love books, music, travel, and shoes!  Send me stuff about that. I will throw the rest away.

What we are hiding?

You're a wonder,
how bright you shine,
flickered candle in a short lifetime,
secret dreamer that never shows,
if no one sees you then nobody knows,
and all these words you were meant to say,
held in silence day after day,
words of kindness that our poor hearts crave,
please don't keep them hidden away.
josh groban

No matter how many times I tell the people that I love, how much I love them, do they know deeply and purely what they mean to me? Do I tell them the countless times during each day that I know my life is better, sweeter, brighter, just because they are in it with me? Do they know my dreams?

What about the friends and acquaintances that lift me up in innumerable ways? Have I told each one how special they are to me? Do they know that without their presence in my life, each day would be a little less bright? Do they know that I could not get through today without them?

I get caught up in my days, in my ego, in my thoughts about what my tomorrows will be. I get caught up in thoughts of fear and loss, what if I say the wrong thing, what if it is silly? I get caught up in what I think is reality, which is quicksand for the dreamer.  I hide some of me or all of me depending on who is looking.

How sweet the world might be if we stopped hiding; if we shared words of kindness with each other instead of words of fear or lack. I don't think it is naive to believe that by pursuing our own happiness we could create joy, peace and love in the lives of those around us. It's a win-win.

Today I choose to step into the unknown and stop hiding.



 

Lessons I Am Learning

Today has just been one of those days.  My computer had issues all morning.  I have just felt grumpy.

That is OK.  After all I did get a free coffee today.  My dog and my bird love me.  I know because my bird can actually say "I Love You" and my dog just is love.  In the presence of free coffee and unconditional love, I can't say that I feel very grumpy anymore.

Lesson here?  When you feel like the world has got you down - feel the love.

Chapters

Last night after eight and a half years Tim and I finally got the last of my things out of storage. Storage units are interesting things. Aside from an insane money pit, they hold a slice of your life at the time that you place your life inside and close the door.

Here are some of the things that I have uncovered in the treasure trove of my unit.

• An opened bag of rawhide dog chews. Just waiting for a dog to chew them.
• Sample bottles of make up, shampoo and hand lotion. (Think about using these after 8 years of frozen winters and baking summers)
• Very melted candles. Did I not think they would melt?
• LOTS of area rugs! What?
• 2 huge plastic bins filled with my clothes. Is there a statute of limitations on very outdated clothes – including all the “fancy” underwear that I didn’t think I would need at Kripalu?
• Do-dads and knick-knacks. Yes the boxes were labeled as such.
• Boxes and boxes of picture frames. (Roger did not like blank walls)
• Not to forget, every card, letter or note that I ever received in my entire life. Yes, boxes of those too.
• 
  

There was the good stuff too, like the books and dishes. However, aside from items like pots and pans, a television, and a vacuum, which Tim took from the unit over the years, what I uncovered is a picture of my life on January 31, 2003. Granted, I thought that my treasures would only be tucked away for six months. I had no idea that I would come back 8.5 years later and not need those sample bottles of shampoo.

Seeing the empty unit, I felt a chapter of my life end and now, a new chapter begins. I am home again. Now what do I do with those bottles of shampoo?

Just kidding.

Seeds of Desire

The obstacle today is my desire for the known. The gift is being at peace with the unknown.

I do like a good surprise, if I KNOW it is going to be a good surprise. Every day of life could be surprise, but unconsciously I create my days with as few surprises as possible. Hedging bets, planning, list making, Plan A, Plan B, looking for the downside, are all strategies that I have adopted over the years to protect myself. Then there is the “routine” – get up, walk the dog, meditate/yoga, eat breakfast, get dressed, sit down to work, take the dog for the long walk, back to work, lunch….we all do it.

All of this planning and routine building is just keeping me from surprises. Yikes, I am attached to only the good surprises! I try to avoid the bad ones.

The wise woman does not confuse

The road map with the road

Or indulge in dogmatic thinking.

She knows she can paint

The ocean by dipping her brush in it,

For she is the sea and the brush

And the artist of her perceptions.

Heal your ignorance,

Discover your wisdom,

Awaken the Seer. (24, 25, 26)

Yoga, Power and Spirit: Patanjali the Shaman

Alberto Villoldo

Finding peace today is my willingness to experience the surprises of the day without my attachment to the outcome.

How Sweet the Sound

If any of you has heard me sing, you would understand when I say that singing is something that I should not do - in public anyway. It is not for a lack of training - (Saturday morning voice lessons) or for a lack of gentle prodding on my mothers part to get me into the choir (no I don't think she actually threatened any choir directors). I am good at many things, but singing is just not one of them.

So why is singing such an important thing to me? Why is it that I feel music in every cell of my body? That my heart just overflows with song? That I ache with desire to sing? This is one of the mysteries of my life. Perhaps I was a great singer in a past life and misused the talent, I just don't know. Universal irony.

So what has this to do with anything? I guess I bring it up because I wonder if everyone has this ache for something. What do we long for that we are not expressing? I am not lumping this in to the general category of things that we would like to have in our life (new iPad, trip to Florence, a date with George Clooney) but a longing for something that shivers so close to pain you can barely stand it.

How can I sing my song when I can't sing? How can I express the music that flows through my soul and fills me to the brim with joy, sorrow, pain and exquisite pleasure?

Wynona says it this way: Sing your songs of dark and light - Make your mark with all your might. Sing your songs of hope and fear, sing the song that sent you here. Sing your heart out.

I have a song to sing. I am looking for a way to express this music without distressing those around me. What about you? What do you long for in your deepest longing?

Amazing Grace

Today I stand in the Unknown.

I can choose to see life as a positive journey, filled with the potential for grace to happen.

I choose grace.

What do you choose today? How do you want to remember this day when you are just about to fall asleep tonight?

For many years I didn’t believe that I had the power to choose my life. I believed that if you made a poor choice you would have to live with that choice whether you liked it or not. There were no do-overs. Terrified of making a poor choice, I simply didn’t choose anything at all – unless forced to act. However, life required action and so I made choices that were based in fear and the results often reinforced my theory that choosing to act was a scary thing.

When I became a parent, I gave my children many opportunities to make choices. I remember watching their faces as they thought about their choice….I choose, (thinking with eyes alight with possibility), I choose….(smiles lingering as they delighted in the very act of choosing), I choose….. Often it was just a choice between chicken nuggets or a cheeseburger in their Happy Meals, but they did get to choose and they loved it. Somewhere in that process I started to see choice in a far more playful way.

By seeing choice as playful and by not getting caught up in the fear of the unknown, I have allowed grace to come into my life. Yes, do-overs are possible.

I Am a Grandmother: an honest look at love and life

Recently, someone told me that I shouldn’t mention that I am a grandmother on a first date. This person is someone that I respect and she has written a book on finding your “soul-mate”, so I took what she said to heart. Her point was that it might be intimidating for someone to hear that I am a grandmother and it might make me seem old.

OK, I get it. In the grand scheme of the “new normal”, when us baby boomers are dealing with unemployment and alarming health care reform issues, how we look and feel to the outside world is important. I don’t want the outside world to see me as too old or too tired or less than vital in any way. If you believe the news reports, it does seem that I may never be able to retire and will need to earn money for at least the next 20 years. The news reports also tell me that people my age are just not getting hired for jobs. Well, that’s a bind.

What about dating at my age? According to some reports, men don’t want to date women who don’t have a secure high paying job and money in the bank, because they don’t want to be used for their money. Obviously, I was never into the “marry for money” thing, but gee-whiz it might be nice if the next guy had some money. I’m just sayin’. He doesn’t have to be loaded, but the truth is, I don’t want to support anyone else at this time of my life. So, if I understand correctly, I need to have a job that will bring in an equal amount as the man makes (ha!) and keep that for the next 20 years so I might be able to spend my 80’s in retirement (with or without the man because who knows if either of us will make it that far). But then again, according to reports, I might only be able to find employment at Walmart (if I am lucky), so that’s kind of a bind too.

Wow, if I am to believe these reports and the opinion of a respected author, it doesn’t look good for me in the love department OR the life department. If I believe in the statistics-or what other people think, I am pretty much screwed. So it would seem. As middle age winds down and my senior years creep ever closer I could feel pretty down about the whole thing. That is if I care about the reports or what anyone would think.

The truth is:

• I AM A GRANDMOTHER! I don’t care whom I tell and I have no issue proclaiming it on a first date! If that is intimidating or makes me seem old to someone, then he obviously isn’t “the someone” that I am looking for.
• My job security is slightly tenuous and I don’t have buckets of money in the bank. I might not be hirable in corporate America, but I am creative and enthusiast and trust that the “Universe” will provide. In truth I don’t think that my sitting at a desk working for somebody else is the way for me to earn a living anyway.
• I refuse to live in a bind. My life has never been “normal” so why should I get caught up in the “new normal”? I don’t want to be dictated to when it comes to how I define myself.

I choose to live my life as fearlessly as possible, knowing that it is all Unknown. I choose to live my life in love with all that is and all the unknown potential to come. I think that if I do this, then the love department and the life department will be a beautiful adventure.

Undoing the Comfort Zone: the box of aloneness

While I have been busy patting myself on the back for a successful journey through the Unknown Zone this past year, I failed to bring up that one thing that seems to catch me frozen in the headlights like a scared bunny.

I find it ironic, that in a life that has been as unconventional as mine; where I could find the courage to do so many things that were stranger than fiction, I have trouble stepping out of my box of aloneness. The word that comes to mind is trepidation, which is essentially a fear of something that may happen.

Being alone has worked for me. It has given me long stretches of time to contemplate, to be at ease with silence or to fill the silence with whatever I want. I am seldom bored and quite frankly between work, Tucker the dog, Buddy the bird, the kids and friends, I seldom feel as if I am alone. I am comfortable with my own company and it is only on rare moments that I find myself gazing upon happy couples and feeling sad or angry because that one piece of myself has been eliminated.

It is easy to say that being on my own for the rest of my life would be OK. There are so many advantages. What has me thinking is not that I am unhappy with my aloneness, but I am surprised at the level of need to stick with the status quo. I feel trepidation every time I consider stepping out of my zone of comfort. Some people are afraid of spiders or snakes, some of flying in airplanes, others of heights. I am terrified of allowing someone into my safe aloneness.

There, I said it. What’s more I have looked at all the why’s and how’s and fully understand how silly it really is. I get it. In truth, I don’t think I want to spend the rest of my life alone. I am ready to consider another option, I just might not be quite ready to implement. Ding Dang, that was ambiguous!

So, I guess my conclusion is that I am aware that it isn’t just the comfort of my aloneness that I am protecting, but it is the fear of stepping into the Unknown Zone.... again. Caught in the act.