Posts Tagged ‘self-acceptance’

Listen Within

November 4, 2025

In the season of Halloween with its strong theme of haunting – haunted houses, will o’the wisps, scary dreams, things that go bump in the night, I’ve become aware recently of a different sort of haunting – the way in which the emotional imprint of very old experiences can haunt one’s present, distorting and sometimes destroying present peace, satisfaction, well being. It may even instill a negative tone into current relationships.

I’m not referring to the sort of emotional turmoil that needs professional help from a qualified mental health counselor. Rather, I’m noticing a subtle tugging on emotional strings that results from misperceived identity, or misplaced attention. A current example for me is too easily feeling overlooked in the days surrounding my birthday because of a haunting recall of how my birthday was regularly ruined, year after year, in my childhood. Whatever had been promised as a treat would not materialize, no parties were ever allowed, and instead of pampered, I often became the scapegoat for something/someone else that angered my mother.

In the more than half century since, there have been any number of special events to mark various birthdays – either things I treated myself with, or that friends shared with me. Living on my own for many of those years, I learned to celebrate privately. It has come as a surprise, therefore, to find that now – in a relationship – I can be haunted by those childhood memories, and want assurance from my partner that this year, this birthday, will not be overlooked.

This particular haunting rose into awareness as I participated in a group reflection recently. I have met regularly, for over two years, with a small group of people on Zoom, most of them drawn to Quaker silent worship from a variety of backgrounds. We share our reflections on a query related to a reading. Most recently, we had all read an essay about the different ways that people center themselves, still the mind, enter prayer, or otherwise engage in the activity they consider as the way to connect with the spiritual self. The query was worded:

How do you recognize an inner prompting as coming from your spiritual center, however you identify or name that place of wisdom?

It was enlightening to hear what different people connected with in the article, and to recognize that in a way we had each read a different essay. What spoke to one had not been noticed by another. One was comfortable with the author’s implication that God, the Divine, Spirit, Eternal Love – so many different terms – is external to the author and to be sought outside oneself. Another participant described her spiritual practice as connecting with the Spirit Within. Both stated that they “just knew” because of its “ring of Truth” that an insight arose from spirit, not the mind or emotions.

I also seek inwardly for the guiding spirit, the Sound, my Eternal Teacher to make me aware of whatever it is I need to know in the moment. Most recently the birthday-related haunting served as a nudge, a prompting from within, to finally, permanently stop looking outward for validation and acknowledgment.

Now I face a different challenge – to discern why it is that subtle habits one knows need to be broken remain so hard to shed? My Teacher refers to them as golden chains, as they often seem to be positives, like concern for hearing the opinions of others, listening, and being a “good friend”. It is critical to recognize that the actions themselves are not binding. The enchainment comes from needing to know that one is appreciated for doing them.

It helps that I remind myself daily of an instruction from my Grandpa, given more than 70 years ago, that the guide to follow is that I “do right because it is the right thing to do.” Not for recognition, not for honor, not for any external reason – simply because I know that I am doing what I should when I listen inwardly and follow the Inner Voice that has never failed to guide me well. The doing becomes its own reward.

Imbalance Lessons

October 5, 2025

We are frequently exhorted to find a balance in our lives – between work and leisure, frivolity and constructive engagement with community, outer focus on the world and inner focus on the state of our spirit/soul/divine essence, time with others and time alone, frugality and a splurge, etc etc etc as said my favorite Siamese king.

Without planning or choice on my part, I am faced with a weekly switch from solitude to encompassing family demands and back again, as my husband works in another community about 2 hours away, and his sons go to school there. Weekdays I am alone in our home, with various planned commitments that engage me with others, both casually as in grocery shopping for the family, and more intentionally as in participating in a book group, meetings with my spiritual community, and treatment appointments with providers whom I have worked with for so long that they have become friends. And of course phone calls and texting with my spouse and with other friends who live at a distance from my rural home.

Then comes the weekend and spouse and stepsons arrive to fill the house with chatter, chores, and much distracting energy. Some weeks it is a full weekend, Friday evening to Sunday evening, others it is scarcely 24 hours, from Saturday afternoon to Sunday afternoon, as the boys play in a soccer tournament that is held in yet another community than those of our split level weekday living arrangement. In either case, the weekends are always busy with necessary, but not necessarily planned, events. While there is an unwritten list of what needs to be done, much of it is tackled on impulse, prioritized by what we feel like taking on at any part of the day(s).

I can “go with the flow” of both quietly structured weekdays and seriously unquiet, impulse-driven weekends. The lesson I have yet to learn is how to be at ease with the transitions. I do often feel overwhelmed when “the guys” arrive and spill into the house, quickly taking much of the oxygen and filling the silence with chatter. By the time they leave I have adapted, and then with solitude restored, I feel almost bereft for at least a couple hours, unless or until someone calls, or I have a meeting to attend either in person or on line.

I have wondered if the transitions would feel less disruptive if my time alone and time in family were closer to equal? Or if I had a naturally more extroverted personality, allowing me to participate more fully and immediately in the family dynamic? Would it help for me to aim to become less of a planner and more of an impulse-driven person during my alone time? Or should I be working to impose more structure onto the weekends?

Unanswered (unanswerable?) questions that Mind busies itself trying to solve, until my Inner Self asserts its authority and turns to my spiritual guide who reminds me that Mind cannot solve Mind’s problems. And it is only Mind that considers the transitions to be disruptive and in need of a solution. True Self simply is. Present with whatever is happening, not attached to any way of being, appreciating each moment for what insights it offers. Mind tries to find balance, Inner Self is intrinsically balanced.

So the question is not how to negotiate the transitions, but who it is living them. Once the correct “who” is in charge, balance becomes automatic and the concept of transition vanishes.

How simple, when looked at rightly.

Be-ing or Lazy?

March 17, 2025

How many times in the past several months have I said to myself that “today I will write another blog post” only to see the day pass with me occupied with all the other activities that can consume our daily lives, especially those of us who are older, and/or having to manage health issues and limited energy. Today is really no different, except that I seem to have finally come to the end of my laziness, and decided to start writing without having first selected a topic. Because choosing a topic was one of the many “excuses” I had to cover what I have resisted identifying by its proper title, laziness. I mean, how could I call myself lazy when I am as active as I have been with running a home, caring for animals, supporting friends who are dealing with illness, family member deaths, troublesome children, plus responding with resistance as best I can to the trashing of America’s institutions and its standing in the world, plus preparing for major changes in my daily life at home? All while my body is controlled by the random whims of an autoimmune disorder that reacts with increased pain and decreased energy whenever there are even minor shifts in weather.

I suspect the answer lies in some aspect of self image, or how I define my sense of self. I had no trouble keeping up regular posts throughout my last, time demanding period of employment when I was also running a household and doing all the activities listed above. When I retired, in 2020 at the age of 76, I thought I would be a more prolific writer with so much newly freed time. Instead, my posting declined until it virtually stopped. Yes, I became ill with the autoimmune disorder that took much of my energy and required almost two years to be diagnosed so that I could begin what has proven to be a moderately effective treatment regimen. Yes, the changes that Covid wrought throughout our society affected me as well. And yes, retirement brought about a greater change in my sense of self than I anticipated, given that I was fully aware of how this transition impacts people.

What I think I did not anticipate, despite the warnings from my acupuncturist, was the extent to which removing the stress and pressure I had lived with for most of my working life would collapse rather than free me. Running on adrenaline from stress, deadlines, meeting others’ expectations is what kept me going, Removing that pressure left me not just exhausted in body, but disoriented and adrift in mind and spirit. Adding in Covid-caused distancing and long days of isolation pushed me further into “the blahs” which in turn morphed into an ambiguity as to who I am without a persistent drive to do, and to be recognized as a do-er.

A dear friend whose own physical challenges forced him into an earlier retirement than he had planned described the challenge I faced as the do-be-do-be-do of the music he loved. He and I both noted that we needed to run counter to the end of that theme, as we were both striving to settle comfortably into self definition as be-ing rather than do-ing.

I suspect that my mind conflated “being” with laziness – if I wasn’t “doing,” I was lazy. Gardening, poultry care, house chores were readily available ways of doing that could convince me I was not lazy.

Writing, on the other hand, is part of my being-ness, part of my sense of self, of the spirit centered entity that I have known all my life but have only lately been given the opportunity and circumstances to fully develop.

Two quite different gifts from friends have now, I hope, pushed me out of the need to self-define by doing, into the actual freedom I expected retirement to give me. The first was a request from a college classmate to write a blurb for the cover of a book she translated that will soon be published. I read the manuscript, offered a few editorial comments, and quite enjoyed the challenge of condensing my appreciation into a short paragraph for the blurb. That activity resurrected my awareness of the pleasure I take in language fluency and writing. The second was the gift of All In For Love, the first of a trilogy of books by Leslie S. King, given to me after I had posted an online appreciation of her third volume, I Am Love. Leslie’s poems and short essays detail her spiritual journey and express the essence of Be-ing that she, like I, have been working our way towards. Her courage and lucidity in putting that challenge into words and sending them out into the world have been a great inspiration for me.

So what do I conclude? Probably that I was not being lazy, but rather that I was not yet ready to accept a total change in my sense of identity, just as I had not felt ready to take on a rather radical change in my outer living circumstances that will now most probably manifest by mid-May. It is neither positive nor negative – just majorly different. If nothing else, it will give me plenty to write about. I hope you will care to follow along as this familiar but also new me expresses itself.

Is it Part of Getting Older?

July 28, 2024

Is it part of getting older (old? Golden Ager?) that I am increasingly impatient with so many things? Bad – i.e. nonexistent – customer service. Unexplained, endless delays in receiving what has been promised, bought, and paid for. Packaging that is not only child proof but impervious even to sharp scissors. “New and improved” whatever that is perhaps new, but is the exact opposite of improved. Artificially created obsolescence forcing purchase of new equipment when the perfectly good items can’t be updated any longer because the tech company wants yet more excessive profit. I could go on, but it is undoubtedly a waste of time to do so.

And that most likely is the underlying reason for my impatience – a sense of time running out, that I don’t want wasted on stupidly aggravating nonsense. 

My group of friends who get together weekly for what we call Stitching (to encompass sewing, knitting, crochet and whatever else anyone chooses, including idle hands) are all “mature” women. We all express frustration with time wasters though none of us have, so far, identified what I am considering now, that the very fact of being older and aware that the time remaining in our lives is far less than that already spent, causes much of the impatience. If I have only a limited amount of time left in life I don’t want to waste it on trash.

Perhaps I have also identified the source of the stereotype of old people as grumpy?

Yes, it’s true none of us knows, at any age, how long we have yet to live. But short of a terminal diagnosis, or existence in a war zone that makes one’s end of life salient, not many of us abandon the unconscious conviction of near immortality that is the framework of daily life. Reaching retirement, at whatever age above midlife that turning point occurs, tends to trigger an assessment of achievements and a setting of new goals, but does not automatically shift us (or at least it did not do so for me) into a more conscious sense of time as a precious commodity not to be squandered. It was not until, just recently, I noticed the extent to which I had become impatient that, seeking reasons, I came to understand this as a common quality of older folks arising from an underlying awareness that one’s days (hours, minutes?) are indeed numbered. 

I think a somewhat similar shift in perspective occurs in what has been termed midlife crisis, the not uncommon mental turmoil that accompanies the first indications of flagging energy and rising uncertainty as to where one is on life’s path. Changing careers, altering goals, returning to school, finding new interests to fill an “emptied nest” are activities frequently accompanied by an awareness of time’s passage, bringing also an increased sense of vulnerability. 

What differentiates this midlife reassessment from the late-in-life one seems to me to be a changed sense of time. In midlife, we focus on how much we still want to achieve in the (perceived as still long) amount of time we believe is left to us. By later age, we instead are aware that we have outlived many of our peers. The unknown amount of time left to us becomes precious, not to be squandered. People, circumstances, attitudes that waste time become highly expendable, and highly aggravating when they cannot be circumvented.

In order not to throw away my remaining time being angry or feeling helpless, I have sought a viewpoint to free me from this constraint, and found it in the concept of eliminating my remaining karmic debt, thus becoming able to exit this life (however soon that exit occurs) without ties that force me to return for another incarnation. One need not accept the concept of reincarnation to benefit from this form of detachment. The act of unhooking from frustration, putting down the impenetrable package, temporarily setting aside the uncooperative software – the fact of distancing oneself in order to come back to the task in a calmer state seems to allow it to flow more smoothly.

Perhaps I am merely recognizing an application of the refrain “to every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven?” 

If so, is it time – finally – for me to be able to get the icing out of its impervious package so I can finish the cake I want to take to Stitching?

O.A.S.?

May 1, 2024

I am woefully ignorant of the texting/social media abbreviations that increasingly occur in the crossword puzzles I used to enjoy as brain stimulation, but now too often toss aside in frustration as unsolvable unless I first take a course in Gen Z culture and textisms. On the other hand I immediately translated my first encounter with OAS – old age syndrome – in an email from a neighbor and friend of my generation even though she used it with minimal context, just saying she was “doing okay other than OAS”.

At about the same time, I interacted with the young woman whose debut website triggered my most recent post. Following from that recently posted reflection has been an extended meditation on the possible benefits of – and my strong inner resistance to – what is now often referred to as Swedish death cleaning.

    (Inserted peeve: the thinks- it- knows- better- than- I- what- I -want- to -say built in grammar monitor is trying to tell me to write “following that reflection” when I do indeed mean following from as in triggered by and derived from, not just coming after in time. I hate the unavoidable, embedded, programmed critics which do not know nuance, nor formal grammar, but try to dictate how I express myself! )

Having undergone the challenge of sorting, selling, discarding or keeping my family belongings after my father’s death many years ago, I fully appreciate the kindness done to survivors by paring down beforehand. Facing the prospect of undertaking such a project myself I equally appreciate how reluctant I am to do so. At first I merely excused myself with the assessment that my energy levels weren’t up to the task (an aspect of OAS). With restricted energy and a goodly number of daily have-to’s, I want what extra energy I have used for more pleasurable activities than sorting and selling or discarding or keeping a lifetime’s accumulations. Having already lost much of what I valued as my personal history to last year’s wildfire, the items remaining seem almost vital to my sense of self.

Yet they are not. Viewed objectively, many of them simply occupy spaces that my eyes are accustomed to seeing them in. Especially the books I have read and will not reread, but keep like old friends, their covers and titles reminding me of the pleasurable time I spent with them in the past.

As I have lived with these conflicting motivations – to simplify and to keep – over the past several days an underlying perspective has emerged. I don’t think the issue is really a tension about things, but rather an inner argument about accepting or refusing to transition from one stage of life to the next. Since retiring something over three years ago, I have not enjoyed the anticipated opportunity to pursue interests that my demanding work life prevented. Covid did not help – nor did the emergence of unrelated health challenges most probably released by my reduction in stress-driven energy. (I relate to the recovering alcoholics who bemoan not being ill until they sober up.)

Looking back over these recent years of retirement, I see a person who achieved (survived) a great deal, coping not just with a health decline but two successive years of wildfire evacuations with extensive losses from the second one, while adding a stepson to my household, overseeing reconstruction of our home, and continuing my role as support to a husband focused on career advancement. Recently several people have described me as courageous. I have not thought that adjective to be descriptive of me – but perhaps they are correct? Is it courageous to push through the demands of each day while trying to be helpful to others whose needs are often urgently disruptive of my planned allocation of time and energy? Or am I just stubbornly refusing to let OAS define me?

I am aware of the often advised benefits to older people that they interact with younger ones to stay engaged and vital. For those with children and grandchildren this sort of interaction often comes naturally, especially when retirement is accompanied by relocation to be nearer to one another (the move usually also producing a paring down of things to the basic essentials). Having no children and hence no grandchildren, my recent acquisition of young step-children feels simultaneously appropriate to following this advice, but also intrusive and an interference with achieving the flexible and free “me” time I had anticipated as a retirement reward. 

“Man proposes, God disposes.”

Now I wait, trying to do so patiently, for inner guidance on how to balance my desire to still be the younger version of myself, physically active and energetic throughout the day, meeting the needs of family – with also taking time for myself and my long postponed travel and new learning interests that were the promise of retirement. Often, so far, it seems that I am that courageous “doing” person from my 6AM rising until about 2 in the afternoon, when I become an exemplar of OAS,  using the description to excuse resting on the couch, reading and extending my Wordle and FreeCell streaks. Not the image of myself I would choose – but apparently the one I need to accept. 

For now, so be it.

Solitude (Revised)

March 8, 2024

My husband works “away” ( in another part of the state ) so I am accustomed to chunks of solitude during the week, enjoying it as a balance to my other-focused weekends with him, and the enjoyment of companionship as we accomplish the chores and entertainments of married life.  Just now, by contrast, my husband is out of the country for five weeks, so I am largely alone, with only intermittent company at home from my stepson, or when I venture out to town for appointments and some socializing. I have previously experienced several equally long, or longer, periods alone as this trip is my husband’s fourth in the past six years. And there have been substantial periods of solitude earlier in my life (before this marriage). I am therefore very clear on the difference between being alone and being lonely. I am fortunate to be able to say I usually experience the former, only very rarely the latter.

Today is qualitatively different, in that I am constrained to solitude by a winter-weather triggered dip in health. It is in the nature of the autoimmune disorder I live with, that a sequence of similar weather days allows me to have energy to accomplish, while a shift from sun to clouds and back again to sun results in energy depletion often accompanied by a lowering attitude that begs for the distraction of company to keep it in check. Coming off several days of promise-of-spring weather that let me forget my health constraints, I am restless and edgy today, minding my decreased capacity to do, rather than enjoying an opportunity to just be.The whining child in me is demanding why this dip had to occur, yet again, despite all that I have done to counteract the barometer body component of my disorder. The annoyed parent tells the child to stop complaining, while the adult feels frustrated at having to mediate yet another silly emotional dispute that is nothing more than misdirected attention. 

Attention given to how I benefit from peace without the distracting presence of others, to contemplate the multiplicity of reasons I have to be grateful.

Attention to the reading (about how to deeply connect with others) that is due for a study group I participate in.

Attention to listening for the inner voice of spirit that is best heard when there is minimal outer distraction.

Attention to putting my current state of being into words, here, where I can see and hear and reflect on them better than when they are merely random thoughts floating in my head.

How many of us, I wonder, use blog posts to hear ourselves think? And feel grateful when the expressed words resonate with at least a few readers who may from time to time encounter the same conundrums?  I wonder, do we come to the same conclusions? Hard to tell in this format that is largely disconnected from the feedback that constitutes a conversation.

For now, I choose to stay focused on using my alone time productively (for me) and continuing to learn ways to both conserve my energy and boost it without having to turn to an adrenaline fueled rush of stress to push through future demanding days. Which means unlearning the routines that have defined much of my life, replacing them with what I am promised is a much easier path of pausing, relaxing, focusing inward, and listening to the softly voiced instructions which, when followed, allow me to accomplish all that needs doing, easily and without pain. I suspect I may have more to say on this topic, as I practice a way of being rather than doing. Meanwhile, in the present moment, it is time to feed my chickens and collect eggs – yes midwinter the hens are, most unusually, laying well.

 One more reason for gratitude.

Why I Resist Change

October 11, 2023

Three AM is not the best time to be awake, when a good night’s sleep is needed in order to have the energy for the next busy day. But three AM is when, on some nights, my inner self alerts my mind to what it is misperceiving, or not giving sufficient attention to, with subsequent unaddressed emotional stress further depleting my already age-limited energy. My most recent three AM wakening first brought out a well of anger at banks for forcing abandonment of payment by check, through outrageous fees for using checking accounts as they were originally designed to be used – to pay monthly bills, for non-local purchases, and daily expenses when carrying much cash is putting oneself at risk.

Apparently we are now supposed to set all regular payments as automatic withdrawals from an account. I have already experienced the humongous hassle of trying to stop one of those when it is no longer appropriate, and swore I would not go that route again for anything less than a gun to my head. A few current monthly expenses are paid by direct withdrawal, but only as I initiate them each month – nothing automatic. And every time I do provide account information online I cringe, too aware of the risks from hacking, fraud and phishing that we are constantly warned to be alert for.

So what is left? Constant use of a credit card – while monitoring the totals so it can be paid off in full each month, obviating fees. That carries some risk, however – in that the issuer can put a hold on the card at any time, if they suspect there may be a fraudulent charge, and apparently there is no requirement that they promptly notify the legitimate card holder of the fraud alert hold. I was left stranded overseas, my card refused, in one such case. It took three days of long distance calls to get the hold released. And just recently a similar silent hold prevented local withdrawal of cash from an account, again without any notice to me.

We older people are persistently urged to “keep up with the times” as technological “advances” flood our lives. This older person appreciates some of the benefits of interconnectivity, and as a writer I most certainly appreciate the ease of editing and rewriting online, compared to using the typewriter with which I began. Not all the changes and supposed helpers that change my words or think they know better than I do what I am trying to say and how I wish to express it. I still turn off every autocorrect that I can. My grammar remains far superior to that which is programmed into current software.

What I don’t appreciate, and I think gives rise to the misperception that older people are resistant to change, is the present conviction that change is always positive. Nope, sorry. Especially not when the changes are rooted in a serious shift in ethos, values and worldview.

I am far from alone in pointing to major changes in how politicians, pundits, the press and the now fashionable “influencers” present themselves, and their perception of what matters – or should matter – to the rest of us. If I were given the right to name the current period of time I would call it the era of personality cultism. How many followers can I collect, in order to sell their information to advertisers and thereby support myself without having to work for someone else? How do I acquire power to use as I see fit, without regard to the good of others, not even that of my constituents (Mr. Manchin)? How loudly can I scapegoat, point fingers, deflect blame, vilify and generally disrespect anyone who doesn’t bow at my feet? How high can I raise narcissism as a virtue, making it the norm rather than an aberration?

In company with many elders, I resist change when it goes so dramatically against the values I have lived by – that respect and a following are to be earned by honest conduct, thoughtful engagement, respectful listening to different viewpoints, and the search for collective wellbeing. I resist the marketing of absolutely everything, and the abandonment of a belief that not everything has a price. If that makes me a “stodgy old fogey” so be it. I suspect I am still in quite good company, though I accept that the current ethos, especially online, deprives me of the opportunity to find and connect with most of that company.

Would that we had louder voices, more stamina and energy to make our presence, our values and our concerns not just heard but listened to! With awareness that the years ahead of us to act and perhaps make a difference are rapidly diminishing, it is difficult not to despair. If all I can do now is stand firm in my own life, for what I perceive is right, that is what I must do.

So bank be advised – if you won’t let me write checks, I will close my account and go elsewhere!

Mind the Mind

October 3, 2023

As I strive to be patient with what is beginning to feel like an intolerably delayed process, I repeat to myself that things can’t happen on any different time schedule, just because I want them to. I remind myself that stressing about delays moves nothing forward, only wears my patience down further. I think that I would be handling the situation better if only there were meaningful communication. Are the workers coming today, or did their cancellation due to weather yesterday (never communicated to me until after dark last night) set everything back an unknown length of time?

As I try to stay in the present, and enjoy the quiet that I know will be lacking in days ahead, my squirrely mind jumps to the self imposed approaching deadline – that I want to be able to enjoy entertaining guests for a joint birthday for my stepson (his first in the US) and me in just a few weeks, in late October. No way can I do that with the inside of the house in its present dismantled state, everything off the walls and away from shelf edges, to prevent crashing disasters as the outside walls are pounded, in the process of putting up new siding.

I do not lack for alternatives. Several friends have offered us retreats to their homes during the noisy reconstruction, and I’m certain I could even plan a party in one of those spaces. As deeply appreciative as I am of these offers, my mind keeps me hung up on it “not being the same” as entertaining at home.

Why does this aspect of identity (a demanding mind) that I know is not “the real me” keep interfering with acceptance of what is? Can’t it be content with its prowess at Wordl and crossword puzzles, and let go of the false and illusory pretense of control? How many times must it subject itself (and me) to the hard lesson that no amount of planning and preparation can ever envision all possible outcomes? No matter how many past experiences I reflect on, where in retrospect I see that things worked out exactly as best benefited me despite not being what mind intended, still today sitting here waiting for the possible arrival of a crew (or not), that mind resists relaxing and letting me just be.

It helps, verbalizing the dilemma, so that I have a focus for the spiritual exercise I will engage in as I walk out to feed chickens and go down the hill to empty the mailbox, grateful that the sun is out and that there is green showing on the tops of many of the still-standing burnt trees both on my own property and its surrounding areas.

Mind, please be at peace.

Summing Up Another Year

September 21, 2023

Apparently I have been engaged in a transition, recognized by others on the spiritual Path I follow, as a key shift in both focus of attention and sense of identity, that requires limiting one’s outer engagements to just what is necessary for daily life, with much of what occupied my time and energy stripped away. Hence my writing has been set aside, along with most social interaction, social media usage, even the number of books I am accustomed to getting read in a week. Undoubtedly the considerable demands to adapt imposed by acquiring a teenage stepson, and being displaced from home (again) by wildfire, have played their part in my largely unconscious decision to pull in, focus inward, and go relatively silent to the unseen audience such as I may still have for this blog.

The aftermath of fire damage is still unfolding. My house was saved, its exterior severely damaged and about to be remade (projected to take about a month). Garage and large shipping container of stored life history are gone. The electric meter, and therefore power for the well, was destroyed and took several months to be restored to code specifications, during which time I was evacuated to a location 140 miles away, traveling back twice a week to care for animals and receive my scheduled weekly health support treatments. Friends housed me near home for those overnights. I am deeply grateful for their caring assistance.

Learning to live, three of us in a small one bedroom apartment where my husband lives during his workweek, in a big city near its airport, was a challenging adjustment for the three months of being evacuated from home. I have known intuitively, all my life, that I am not a city person, despite living in them from early childhood until my late 20’s when I moved to New Mexico. Once here, I have lived rural, delighted to visit cities when necessary but no longer confined by them. Despite the view from some of my windows now being of charred trees, I still savor the rural landscape that has been my daily blessing for more than thirty years. And there are patches of green reemerging on many of the trees, the grasses have come back in full, along with sunflowers and some other small wildflowers. Additionally, the grasshopper infestation that has plagued my neighbors living outside the burn area has not come near my surviving perennials. Doves never left, and songbirds have returned. The only thing I missed this summer season was hummingbirds. I expect them back next year.

It is too soon to say what may be my biggest gift from this year of upheaval, but as I approach both the anniversary of meeting my spiritual teacher and my own birth anniversary, both in late October, I acknowledge my gratitude for finally learning to release mind’s iron grip and dictates, freeing me to be flexible, adaptable and trusting, experiencing satisfying outcomes I could not envision with my limited mental outlook. My Teacher repeatedly reminds us that Soul is a happy entity. Seeing that I can be happy despite outer tensions and challenges is a lovely indication that I am approaching knowing myself as Soul, lovingly guided on what to say, when to say it, when to be still, when to act and how to simply Be.

Thank you to all who continue to follow despite my long silence. I appreciate you.

In Passing

January 19, 2023

Yesterday I was informed by a dear friend, Jay, that she had rather suddenly lost one of her close friends to death. That friend had apparently been relatively healthy, but in only a matter of a few weeks went from active and engaged to departed.  Jay stated that mentally she understood what had just happened but emotionally she was not coping well because of the suddenness of the loss. 

A few hours later I received a packet of writing from a dear friend of mine who has been living with a progressively deteriorating health condition for many years. He has soldiered through the  steady decline with an amazing adaptability and retention of positive attitude. What was evident, however, in what he sent me was the fact that the core elements that he has retained as his sense of identity are now under attack. He is experiencing difficulties with all forms of communication and becoming an unwillingly isolated shut-in.

In my initial response to Jay, I spoke about the difference between losing someone suddenly and watching a steady decline, the latter situation giving one an opportunity to adjust emotionally as well as mentally to what is coming. However, that latter situation also implies or imposes awareness that the friend suffering the decline is indeed suffering over an extended period of time. What I mentioned to Jay in my initial response was the ambiguity that I have lived with for many years over the “better” way for a life to end. It seems that for the person who is departing this life it must be easier if the departure is relatively sudden. No living with pain, no agonizing over things undone, not really any time to guilt trip oneself, which I realize may or may not be the case, there being no means to ask after the departure whether the person did in fact experience regrets, or depart in peace.

For those of us left behind after a quick death, similar questions can nag at us. By contrast, when there is a lingering illness and progressive decline, the person experiencing the challenges may or may not value the time provided and the advance notice that whatever activities or communications have been neglected can be put right before death. The friend or family member standing beside or watching the decline also has time to sort things out if they choose to do so. Working in home care for many years, I watched all sorts of variations of the slower passing and saw family member caregivers who treasured every moment of their connection to the dying individual. I also saw family members impatient for the end to come, feeling overwhelmed or angry or just immeasurably sad that their loved one was suffering and in pain. 

For myself, I have tried to live by guidance received from my grandfather when he was near the end of his life. He said then that he had only two regrets, one being that it would have been better for my mother, his daughter, if he had remarried but he never found a woman he wanted to commit to. His other regret was that he never learned to play the mandolin. At that time, when I was in my late twenties, I undertook to try to live in such a way that whenever my end came I would have no more regrets than he did. 

I’m comfortable in saying that at this moment I have achieved that goal. I recognize that the goal is a moving target and that I need to be mindful to stay in this space of no more than two regrets. Doing so helps keep me honest in my interactions, respectful of others, and sufficiently self aware to keep myself motivated in pursuing my own next steps.

I cannot speak for those who care for me with regard to what they would prefer, my rapid and unexpected passing versus an anticipated steady decline. That choice seems to be a very individual one for each of them. I do think that living by the mantra of minimizing regrets (making prompt restitution when we err) can benefit us all, so that however an end comes, whether our own or a loved one’s, the transition can be smoother and less emotionally painful for all who are involved in the passing.

May it be so.


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