There are 26 letters in the English alphabet and what I find amazing is that those 26 letters make up all the words we could ever want to write in our lifetime. I find that such an endearing fact!!!
But you wanna know what I REALLY love? Sending greeting cards to people.
Okay, true confessions time: I am a card-a-holic. Yes, I am! I love sending cards to people for noteworthy occasions or for no occasion whatsoever. Why do I do that? Well, it’s a passion of mine, but also, I have to believe that any day I can improve someone’s life with snail mail that lands in their physical mailbox, is a good day.
And who doesn’t want to gift someone with a good day?
Trust me when I say, I know that texting and writing emails is a more efficient way of getting ones’ message across, but is it always the best way? No, I don’t think it is. The tactile experience of someone slicing open an envelope to receive my greeting excites the heck out of me! I send more cards than I receive but that doesn’t stop me from sending at least one card a week to someone, and what also doesn’t stop me is the ever-increasing price of postage because seriously people:
Can you put a price tag on happiness? Nope, you cannot.
I hope that my own country’s postal service never goes out of business, and I am doing my best to support it by purchasing the stamps it sells and giving the employees something super worthwhile to do: improving someone else’s day by delivering a card!
So, there you have it. I am grateful for the English alphabet that was created centuries ago so I could stand at a greeting card counter – like I did the other day – and carefully choose future tactile experiences that many someones will receive in their postal mailbox.
I SURE DO LOVE WHAT JUST 26 LETTERS OF THE ALPHABET CAN DO FOR OTHERS!
Marcus Aurelius stated a good thing in this particular meditation, but boy is it difficult to comply with such wisdom. Am I right?
Negative matters and thoughts can really color our view of what’s going on around us but because of that negativity, I guess it’s far more beneficial to only give them their minimum due and then shift our focus to more positive happenings. After being on this earth for more than 71.5 years, I can state without hesitation that while yucky stuff is going on left, right, front, and center, positive stuff is equally as present…although not always recognizable. In a post last month, You Can Never Have Too Much Hope, I suggested that hopelessness is not a desired state of being. It’s a brief post I hope you will click on.
That is where hope comes in – an emotion that just might provide clarity when all the lines of decency seem blurred.
How well do you know the person who bags your groceries on a weekly basis? I am here to encourage you to engage with staff you see every week because the rewards to you, and the staff, are immeasurable.
The other day my husband and I said goodbye to our favorite grocery bagger, “Steven.” We saw Steven every week for a few years, and each time we did so – and after a certain measure of trust was established between customer and staff person – Steven opened up more and more to us. We shared grandchild stories while he shared tidbits about his hobbies and his later in life dating adventures.
But the other day, just a couple days before he moved across the country to help out his daughter in her hardware store business, he honored us by walking our groceries out to our car and then opened up like never before when I asked him how long he had worked at that Redmond, Washington area grocery store. His response floored us.
Steven revealed that he started working at the store six years ago, a couple years after he had survived, and been rehabilitated from, a brain aneurysm that didn’t quite stop him dead in his tracks. As a 50-something year old adult, he had to learn everything from scratch. Prior to this severe medical event, Steven was a professor of industrial engineering at a Washington university. Now he bags groceries, which, let me tell you, is a noble profession, especially during all the pandemic and other world events that pitted frontline workers in the midst of disarray and uncertainty.
My husband and I were shocked by his revelation given that we didn’t detect anything medically abnormal about this now 60-something year old gentleman. We never knew about the challenges he endured and overcame; we simply enjoyed our weekly interactions with him and quite frankly, felt those interactions were the highlight of each week’s mundane shopping trips. We were not looking forward to his planned move out of the state.
Opening up and being transparent with others is a vulnerable thing to do and shows a strength that many do not possess.
Once our groceries were loaded into our vehicle we visited with Steven some more and when it was time for him to head back into the store, the three of us exchanged goodbye hugs. We will miss this valuable connection but are happy that the state of Indiana will now get to benefit from this stellar human being we had come to know.
How many times in a lifetime are we asked: How are you?
How many times have we answered: Fine.
How many times has that not been a true statement? Probably lots and lots of times.
We don’t always feel fine, and when I say “feel” I don’t just mean the physical or medical definition of fine. How about emotionally? How about the complicated psychological aspects that are tied in with how each of us is handling life as it presents itself to us?
Our confidence or lack thereof. Our sense of safety or danger in any given hour of every day. Our ability to cope when coping feels like the least practiced skill available to us.
I would suggest that each of us check in with those individuals within our sphere of influence: spouse or partner, neighbor, coworker, and friend, so that we assure the person we are querying that we really want to know and that they can be as transparent as they are comfortable being.
When we get in the practice of honestly inquiring about each other, it is my hope that our responses will be equally as honest so that dialogue, true dialogue will take place.
I hope that you are fine, but if you’re not, it’s okay to say so.
I recently had the opportunity to see an extraordinary bit of good news unfurl right before my eyes. My husband and I recently traveled by airplane for our 25th wedding anniversary trip. From my seat in the plane I could view everyone else entering the airplane as they were greeted by flight attendants. A woman walked through the plane’s portal and handed the flight attendants a box of See’s chocolates. I figured she must also be in the industry and gifted her fellow flight attendants with a gift.
At our airport destination’s baggage claim area, this same woman was waiting for her luggage just as we were waiting for ours. I walked up to her and said, “Can I ask you a question?” She nodded a yes. “Did you know those flight attendants you gifted with a box of candy?” Her response, “No. When I fly, I always give the attendants a box of chocolates to thank them for the difficult job they do.” I then put my hand to my heart and said, “Thank you for making my day. What a lovely act of kindness you are in the practice of giving.”
Kindness doesn’t have to be a grandiose effort to make a difference.
We have all averted our eyes from an uncomfortable site, which is probably something different for each and every one of us. But there is more to that thought than meets the eye. Seeing eye to eye doesn’t have to mean that we agree or understand everything a person stands for, rather, it could mean seeing and acknowledging the existence of he/she/they, regardless of their standing in life, their race or ethnicity, their religious beliefs, or their me-ness.
Acceptance is defined by the Oxford dictionary as: The action or process of being received as adequate or suitable, typically to be admitted into a group.
Don’t get me wrong, I am the first to say that I don’t love everyone with whom I come in contact because I haven’t known everyone with whom I come in contact for a long enough period of time to develop such a feeling.
With that said, however, even if I don’t agree with everything and everyone’s viewpoint, I don’t pretend for a second that everyone should change to meet my requirements, however adopt-worthy, nebulous, or ethereal they may be. Choice comes into play when applied to others, just as it does when applied to me.
I have never been a fan of clubs or organizations that are limiting in their scope.
For me, once you start doing that, exclusivity takes on an ugly appearance and one’s status becomes either elitist or not noteworthy. Ugh, how horrible that must feel to be in the latter category.
That is why when I look someone in the eye, I will give them the benefit of the doubt and let a far higher power than I handle the rest. I don’t want to be the judge or the jury during this limited lifespan I have been given. So here I am. Judge for yourself.
Have mercy, I can truthfully tell you that I have been VERY hard on myself as an adult. Heck, even events for which I am not proud that happened many, many decades ago have come back to haunt me and shame me.
But then I learned about self-compassion and I realized those past events, and that person who was involved in those events, me, isn’t the me I am today.
Nope. Some matters took lots and lots of scrubbing to wash away the negative sense of worth that permeated my mind and my heart. LOTS of scrubbing. But as Maya Angelou stated very wisely during the course of her life:
“Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”
Trust me when I say, I believe in you and I really, really don’t want you to be so hard on yourself. If you wouldn’t treat a friend in that manner, please extend the same courtesy to yourself. Peace be with you.
When Senator Gabby Giffords was shot at a campaign meet-and-greet and her future as a healthy human being was in severe jeopardy, a news reporter asked her husband, former astronaut Mark Kelly who is now the senior senator from Arizona, the following question when he expressed his extremely positive beliefs about his wife’s recovery, and I paraphrase:
Mark, don’t you think you’re hoping for too much?
His response, and again I paraphrase:
You can never have too much hope!
I have to believe that hope never disappoints. Let’s face it, the alternative, hopelessness, is far from an ideal state of being. Whatever you are going through, I hope that hope never stops growing within your heart and your mind.
No doubt each of us can name a friend or loved one who died younger than they should have. For me, it’s my sister-in-law, Wendy, who died of cancer and never got to meet her daughter’s children nor witness her son’s wedding; and my son-in-law’s father, David, who also died of cancer and not only didn’t get to see his children get married but also missed out on being grandpa to his son’s two children. Although it was years ago now, we are still feeling the after effects.
This body of mine has certainly inspired some complaints on my part; all those aches and pains and the inability to get up off the floor when playing with my grandkids without much fanfare. But I get to play with my grandkids on the floor. What a gift!
I am still here and Wendy and David are not so I will honor them both by not complaining too loudly when the privilege of aging has been granted to me and not granted to those two stellar human beings.
That sure gives me pause, as I am certain it does you where your losses are concerned.
A good friend of mine calls the above types of connections Glimmers.
I wonder where you experience glimmers? I am quite certain that not a day has gone by when I am in public that I haven’t been involved in an accidental meeting with someone, or several someones. Just ask my husband…there isn’t an elevator – or a store checkout counter – where I have not reached out to a stranger for that very short glimmer of friendship.
You don’t have to bug the heck out of someone to make a connection wherein they are frantically trying to get away from you – not in the least. All that is needed is a smile, a kind word, a compliment about their sparkly boots – the latter occurring just a couple weeks ago – or even just wishing a stranger a positive day of sorts.
Give it a try. You just might have made that stranger’s day with that accidental meeting’s mini conversation.
And may I add, I hope someone does the same for you someday soon that will make you feel better than you did just moments before.
In November of 2024, my brother had knee replacement surgery. My brother doesn’t live alone, he lives with his pup, Ramona; she is the quintessential loving doggie everyone dreams of having.
She is so well-loved by the neighbors, that with my brother’s inability to take Ramona on her two times a day walks, the neighbors took over that duty so that my brother’s dog could get exercise and attend to her daily doggie business. Shortly after the substitute dog walker neighbors started their daily tasks, they told my brother that Ramona wouldn’t take the time to do said business and refused to take an extended walk through the vast neighborhood.
Everyone concluded that the dog’s reason for wanting to truncate her walk was no doubt due to her attentiveness to my brother’s needs: she didn’t want to be away from the house, and more importantly, her daddy – my brother. What if Daddy fell while Ramona was away? What if he needed her undivided attention, usually proffered by placing her head on my brother’s knee and lovingly looking deeply into my brother’s eyes?
How can the walkers not understand that her appointed rounds involved more than just sniffing every leaf in the neighborhood but also included being available 24/7 to her housemate, my brother? Quite frankly, when I spent time with my brother at his house during his recovery, Ramona followed him everywhere he ambled – assisted by his walker or his cane – never losing sight of him, even though she knew her Aunt Irene was providing her daddy with all the care he could possibly require.
Dedication. Attentiveness. Love personified…or should I say dog-i-fied? Thank you, Ramona, for being such a devoted caregiver to my brother.
I think we can all agree that we are surrounded by bad news stories. We need not look any further than a pop-up notification on our phones to catch BREAKING or HEADLINE news that is rarely good.
I am as guilty as any other consumer in that I have recently paid more attention to the yucky happenings in my world than the good that already exists. You and I can certainly find some delightful happenings right in our own backyard, can’t we?
Seeing as I live in the United States that was in a very contentious election season that played out this very month, I have relished the opportunity to look for even the smallest of victories that come my way so as to lighten the emotional load that too often clouds my view of the world.
So here are a few positive incidents I had the privilege of recently celebrating:
My husband and I celebrated having met each other on a blind date 28 years ago that changed our lives in such a very good way.
Our two grandchildren have thus far managed to stay healthy, even though their school sessions started a few months ago. That’s a record because as most of us know, schools can be regular germ factories!
On top of that, two of our adult children are teachers in the local school system, and they too have stayed healthy. Let me tell you, that is good news worth celebrating!!
Our oldest daughter and her husband will celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary in just a month’s time and our youngest daughter and her husband recently celebrated their 13th wedding anniversary!
The home of one of my nieces who lives in the region of the United States that was hard-hit by one of the recent hurricanes suffered physical damage, but my niece, her husband, and their teenage daughter escaped bodily harm. Homes can be repaired, but human bodies aren’t quite as easily fixed. It is now my dream that full restoration for all affected will be forthcoming.
The two novels I wrote, Requiem for the Status Quo, and A Jagged Journey, continue to receive positive reviews! Requiem is dedicated to all family members caring for their loved ones with dementia. I celebrate that others have been helped by my own challenging experiences that were included in that memoir-like novel and I dream of a world that eradicates Alzheimer’s and all other dementia.
Majoring on the “minors” is a great way of living when positive happenings cross our paths. They are so very important because the more good we acknowledge, the less yucky the bad stuff will seem to be.
Focusing on the good news around us is a healthy way to close out the current year, don’t you think? That’s what I plan on doing because the alternative just doesn’t seem very appetizing to me.
Going on an extensive tropical vacation sure seems like an enviable thing to do, but such destinations aren’t always doable. But we can dream, can’t we?
Of course we can, and if I learned anything during the worldwide pandemic, it’s that escapes don’t have to be costly and they don’t have to be far, far away.
Let’s talk about a few minimalist escapes that nurture our well-being.
Impromptu Lunch or Dinner Picnic that broadens our view, whether that view is of the water, the mountains, or a flowering bush. Flee the norm to feed your soul and your psyche will thank you! Even a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or dinner leftovers taste special when the beholder is treated to a different viewing perspective.
Cabin Fever Drive (CFD). The CFD became the norm for my husband and I during the aforementioned pandemic. We were safe in the confines of our vehicle and when we got out of the vehicle to sit on a rock or a bench out in the open, we used that moment as an opportunity to appreciate all that was and is still available to us. And we had numerous picnics, as described above, while on our CFDs. This escape is still one of our mainstays of enjoyment.
Budget-minded Mini Getaways are so worth it. My husband and I just got back from a change of pace and change of scenery stay on an island just off the coast of Washington state that is a mere 50 miles (80 kilometers) from our home. What really made it special was having the option to take a vehicle ferry to/from the island or split it up by going by ferry one way, and by vehicle the other, the latter of which included a longer drive, but varying the options – and the scenery – really added intrigue to our travel day.
A Walk on the Not So Wild Side. We are avid walkers, and even though we live in a neighborhood that for all intents and purposes is very forest-like, we hop in our car and drive a few miles away just to have a different stomping – or walking – ground for exercise and entertainment. We will even purposely choose an area frequented by tourists just so we can look at our area from their perspective and “meet” individuals from other parts of the country or world simply by bidding them hello and having a brief chat with them. Everyone enjoys a friendly encounter, and we’ve had many!
The bottom line is that we all have ideas of what it would take to escape the norm, and doing so frequently truly provides healthy outings worth pursuing. Life doesn’t have to be droll. We are only limited by our imagination.
Let’s face it, tropical vacations aren’t the only game in town.
I recently had a doctor appointment with a naturopathic physician; a doctor not associated with my primary care clinic at which I have been a patient for decades. I wanted a different take on an ongoing condition that wasn’t resolving, primarily to discern if vitamin supplementation might be a worthwhile treatment. I had Covid in February of this year and have experienced ongoing exhaustion and energy depletion ever since that time.
After my first visit to see this doctor – who holds the professional status of 1st Year Resident at her clinic – the doctor ordered a complete blood count (CBC) to get a sense of my general health. My previous CBC was in May of this year and the one prior to that occurred in May of last year. I reviewed the results of the labs in the clinic’s patient portal – the labs were normal – and I met with the doctor for a follow up visit a few days later. When I arrived for my visit, she handed me a printed copy of the results, showing a comparison between the current labs and the two previous CBC blood draws from my primary care record, which were all normal.
She concluded that my white blood count (WBC) was concerning, given the fact that the WBC was a couple points higher the past three blood draws. Keep in mind, all three WBC results were well within the safe/normal range that is determined by professional laboratories worldwide. None of the results breached the high-end of the normal range. She then looked at me with a very sad face and said,
“I suspect you have leukemia.”
In my state of shock and despair, I managed to point out that her conclusion was suspect because the numbers were in the normal range. She offered, “Do you want me to talk to your primary care provider (PCP) about my findings?” I told her I did and she said she would do so in the next couple days. I argued, “No, you need to talk to my PCP as soon as possible. What am I supposed to do with your diagnostic statement in the meantime? Carry on as if someone didn’t just tell me I might have a terminal illness?” She faxed her findings to my PCP later that same day.
I left that clinic to drive home to tell my husband the news. How do I do that when my own body and mind are in total shock? But I did. I sat down with my husband, who, like myself, saw no truth in her diagnosis given the lab results, but who was as devastated as me with the prospective diagnosis. After that conversation, I logged into my primary care patient portal to message my long-standing doctor – who has seen me through many health matters over the years – to summarize that day’s devastating appointment.
She called me right away exclaiming that my labs were normal, not leukemia, and that no further testing needed to be done. She was shocked that a doctor would make such an erroneous conclusion without any evidence to support such a conclusion. My PCP suggested that perhaps this 1st Year Resident didn’t consult with the supervising doctor in her clinic because an experienced doctor would not come to that same conclusion.
I am recovering from the emotional impact of this episode and I am also very aware that many people receive devastating accurate cancer diagnoses all the time. I have dear family members and friends who received such news that changed their lives forever and from which some did not recover. What I experienced should never have happened, but I rejoice that this inexperienced medical person’s diagnosis was wrong. Fact gathering is an important step toward responsible doctoring and knowing how to relate to patients about possible serious conditions is a must. I do not have leukemia – not even close! Obviously, I will not be returning to the clinic.
The end of July I had a virtual meeting with the Owner/CEO because the Medical Director doesn’t handle such matters, which I find concerning. Said Owner and I disagreed on several points but he agreed that the way in which the Resident communicated with me could be improved and they will use it as a teaching moment going forward.
I sometimes find myself in new circumstances—perhaps a new medical professional’s office—so that when I check in for an appointment the receptionist or the medical assistant invariably say, “Wow! You don’t look seventy years old!” Which begs the question:
What is 70 years old supposed to look like?
Aging is a strange bedfellow, isn’t it? We can’t get away from it, but would we want to? Doesn’t that bring about a lethal alternative?
Former model, Cindy Joseph said, “Aging is just another word for living.”
From all outward appearances, I look to be in good shape: I’m not overweight, I more or less stand upright (even though I’ve lost 2 inches of height over the past 10 years), I don’t leave the house in inappropriate clothing, and most of the time I remember to put on a pair of earrings in the lobes that were pierced 57 years ago as a teenager. Yep, for all intents and purposes, I present myself as being in pretty darn good shape for a seventy-year-old. But as we all know, outward appearances don’t tell the whole story, do they?
What no one can see is what is going on inside of my seventy-year-old brain. No one sees the worries and the fears that keep me awake at night or that keep me secluded in my home because I don’t feel comfortable driving long distances—especially on freeways—by myself. The receptionist at the medical office isn’t aware of my perfectionistic tendencies that create “What ifs” that need not be addressed but that I revisit over and over and over again in my effort to get things just right.
She or he has no sense of the terror that fills me when a neighborhood dog approaches me that, even though on-leash, I fear may take a chunk out of my leg like the “harmless” dog that did so in my same neighborhood twenty years before.
I am touching on these elements of my life that I am certain exist in many people regardless of their age, simply to point out that appearances can be deceiving. That just because someone presents themselves as in stellar shape doesn’t mean they are 100% healthy. Mental health is health, and without it, fullness of well-being does not exist. Thank goodness we are all becoming more aware of the mental health piece so that the stigma oftentimes attached to it is less pronounced than it was in times past.
I am not at all ashamed to speak of such matters because I know I am not alone. I take pride in the fact that I expend just as much energy to maintain my mental health as I do my bodily health, and apparently, it shows. The way I look at it—my physical body shouldn’t get all the attention, right?
My wish for you is that you nurture your mind just as much as you do your body. Aging isn’t for wimps, and I doubt very seriously that any of you would choose to fall into that wimpy category. Rock on everyone and celebrate the proof of life that your age has afforded you.
I finished off 2023 by going through numerous storage bins that were filled with photos, mementos, and historical family records. I didn’t enjoy it, but I am glad I spent the time to do so. I wrote about that emotional process in my column that appears in an online Australian publication called Grandparents Day Magazine. I welcome you to click on the link. Perhaps it will encourage rather than discourage you to do the same.
Please know that you need not overbook yourself this month – when we usually feel we have no choice but to do so – nor do you need to do so in any future month. This message is brief but I hope it lands with you. If you don’t matter, no one matters.
I previously posted, here, about what it takes to make it to seventy-years-old but I left out one statistic which I now provide to you on this American holiday, Labor Day.
Based on statistics of taking 17,000 breaths a day, when I turned 70 earlier this summer I had already taken 434,350,000 breaths. I don’t know about you, but I think that’s pretty darn impressive. One need not be an Olympic athlete, or any athlete for that matter, for the breaths to still add up.
One breath at a time. That is all that is needed, today, and every day.
THOUGHTS No doubt you have been told that thoughts are just thoughts, that they are not facts. That’s true and we know that to be true, but do we believe it? Rarely. Instead, we let our thoughts consume us, depriving us of calm and making sleep as elusive as winning a big lottery jackpot.
WORRY. ANXIETY. STRESS. ACK!!!!! Everyone has their own “favorite” topic of the aforementioned emotionally distressing occurrences. Health, or lack thereof, is the catalyst for anxiety that is universally experienced, but one need not have that type of fear for ones’ thoughts to take center stage.
Family challenges, financial insecurities, political upheaval. Upcoming life events, whether positive or negative in nature. Socially and emotionally charged incidents. My goodness, the list is interminable! If only we could stop thinking such things!
THE BRAIN DOES WHAT IT’S DESIGNED TO DO I don’t have a magic solution to stop all thought and quite frankly, it’s not possible. Making worthless attempts to stop all thought adds stress, stress adds tension, and tension builds anxiety. Accept that you can’t terminate all thought; personally, that was a very helpful starting point. Acceptance is the key but please know that acceptance does not equate to agreement, rather, it simply means you acknowledge what’s happening and move forward through it without fighting it because…fighting adds stress, stress adds tension, and tension builds anxiety.
ACCEPT THE POSITIVE AND THE NEGATIVE I don’t subscribe to the philosophy of think positive thoughts and all your worries will disappear. Nope, but what I do subscribe to is getting to a place of understanding that nothing is permanent…NOTHING. The bad times wane and, of course, so do the good times. For me, knowing that to be an incontrovertible fact helps me realize that my thoughts aren’t worth investing in. I enjoy the warm fuzzies that positive thoughts give me while trying not to assign too much weight to the negative thoughts that occur unbidden at the most inopportune times, like when I’m trying to fall asleep.
THIS TOO SHALL PASS We know that’s true. Just as the weather changes, so do circumstances. Remember, nothing is permanent, so along with understanding that bad times aren’t permanent, we have to be willing to accept that neither are the good times, and that’s a healthy mentality to have because you can’t have one without the other. Please know, I’ve given this topic an extraordinary amount of thought and have had countless opportunities to practice letting go and letting be, but I am still a work in progress where failure oftentimes outweighs the successes, but practice makes perfect or at least as perfect as us fallible beings can be. You’ve got this my friends. Just as I believe in my ability to wade through all the positive and negative thoughts that fill up my head, I believe in your ability as well. Welcome each opportunity to engage in this practice. Eventually, you and I will get the hang of it and we’ll be better off as a result.
Even though no human being is perfect, we always have the chance to bring what’s unique about us to life in a redeeming way.
Irene says: I celebrate being perfectly imperfect. And my normal weekly blog posts will commence on August 7th. I hope you have enjoyed this Mr. Rogers summer interlude.
When we love a person, we accept him or her exactly as is: the lovely with the unlovely, the strong with the fearful, the true mixed in with the façade, and of course, the only way we can do it is by accepting ourselves that way.
As human beings, our job in life is to help people realize how rare and valuable each one of us is, that each of us has something that no one else has or ever will have something inside that is unique to all time. It’s our job to encourage each other to discover that uniqueness and to provide ways of developing its expression.
You are special. There’s only one of you in this wonderful world. In a way, you’ve already won in this world because you’re the only one who can be you!
I celebrate the fact that I am perfectly imperfect. I have no goal of ever being perfect. In my mind, perfection is greatly misdiagnosed when applied to human beings.
How is human perfection measured? (Humans are involved)
Whose standards are used? (Human standards)
Why aim at perfection when doing so can cause comparison and strife that individuals can certainly do without? (Yeah, why?)
Comparison. Ugh, no good can come from such a practice. Whether you compare your life to other people’s lives on social media – or you compare yourself to your neighbor, friend, or enemy – more often than not the measuring rod’s results will not bend in your favor. Why? Because we are hard on ourselves and therefore in our minds will never measure up.
We are individuals and therefore distinctly different from everyone else!
We complement each other; filling in the blanks that quite naturally exist within each of us.
And THAT, my friends, is something worth celebrating: me helping you, you helping me. A definition of:
I recently completed a guided meditation on loneliness where it was suggested that hunger and loneliness are spurred on by the same need in a person’s brain. When our tummy tells our brain it needs nourishment, we act on that need, but do we act on our need for connection when we’re lonely?
Like many of you, my yearning for connection grew by leaps and bounds the past three years. With very little recourse, my personal world became smaller and smaller, and although my husband is great company day-in and day-out (for over 23 years now) I still craved interaction with others. Then the world opened up and doing something and going somewhere finally became an option.
But I was still lonely and didn’t know how to satisfy that hunger.
I have very few friends nearby. It seems once a person no longer goes to work each day, exhausts their desirous volunteer activities, and their neighbors move away, there are fewer opportunities to make healthy connections. I have a literal ache to make friends and spend quality time with them. I am happy to say that for the past three months, I have found that connection at a weekly class offered by the city in which I live.
The class is a combination of Tai Chi with the healthy addition of maintaining physical balance in ones’ later years. I turn seventy years old next month so it stands to reason that seeking better balance would be high on my priority list. I am receiving the benefits of such exercise with the added benefit of meeting new people and spending time with them. The twenty students in the class are all of a certain age, the youngest being 50 and the oldest appears to be in their 80s.
None of us students have perfected the art of Tai Chi. We will no doubt never reach the perfection of form demonstrated by our teacher Julie, but as she emphasizes each and every class session, “You do you” and that is exactly what I am doing.
The need to connect is still there. There are some deeper connections in the class I hope to make. But if I hadn’t sought that initial connection, the possibility of gaining a deeper connection would have no chance of happening. I guess a good way of summing up matters is to say that if I hadn’t done my part, I would still be as isolated as I was before, and suffering the same mental health deficit I felt at the beginning of this year. As Yoda of Star Wars movie franchise fame so succinctly said:
“Do or do not. There is no try.”
If you don’t set a goal, you’ll never reach it. If you don’t ask, you’ll never receive. We only have one life to live. Please don’t let it expire without your participation.
But you wanna know what I REALLY love? Sending greeting cards to people.
I hope that my own country’s postal service never goes out of business, and I am doing my best to support it by purchasing the stamps it sells and giving the employees something super worthwhile to do: improving someone else’s day by delivering a card!
That is where hope comes in – an emotion that just might provide clarity when all the lines of decency seem blurred.
How well do you know the person who bags your groceries on a weekly basis? I am here to encourage you to engage with staff you see every week because the rewards to you, and the staff, are immeasurable.
How many times has that not been a true statement? Probably lots and lots of times.
Don’t get me wrong, I am the first to say that I don’t love everyone with whom I come in contact because I haven’t known everyone with whom I come in contact for a long enough period of time to develop such a feeling.
In November of 2024, my brother had knee replacement surgery. My brother doesn’t live alone, he lives with his pup, Ramona; she is the quintessential loving doggie everyone dreams of having.
Everyone concluded that the dog’s reason for wanting to truncate her walk was no doubt due to her attentiveness to my brother’s needs: she didn’t want to be away from the house, and more importantly, her daddy – my brother. What if Daddy fell while Ramona was away? What if he needed her undivided attention, usually proffered by placing her head on my brother’s knee and lovingly looking deeply into my brother’s eyes?
I think we can all agree that we are surrounded by bad news stories. We need not look any further than a pop-up notification on our phones to catch BREAKING or HEADLINE news that is rarely good.
But we can dream, can’t we?
Impromptu Lunch or Dinner Picnic that broadens our view, whether that view is of the water, the mountains, or a flowering bush. Flee the norm to feed your soul and your psyche will thank you! Even a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or dinner leftovers taste special when the beholder is treated to a different viewing perspective.
Budget-minded Mini Getaways are so worth it. My husband and I just got back from a change of pace and change of scenery stay on an island just off the coast of Washington state that is a mere 50 miles (80 kilometers) from our home. What really made it special was having the option to take a vehicle ferry to/from the island or split it up by going by ferry one way, and by vehicle the other, the latter of which included a longer drive, but varying the options – and the scenery – really added intrigue to our travel day.
I sometimes find myself in new circumstances—perhaps a new medical professional’s office—so that when I check in for an appointment the receptionist or the medical assistant invariably say, “Wow! You don’t look seventy years old!” Which begs the question:
She or he has no sense of the terror that fills me when a neighborhood dog approaches me that, even though on-leash, I fear may take a chunk out of my leg like the “harmless” dog that did so in my same neighborhood twenty years before.
I previously posted, here, about what it takes to make it to seventy-years-old but I left out one statistic which I now provide to you on this American holiday, Labor Day.
THOUGHTS No doubt you have been told that thoughts are just thoughts, that they are not facts. That’s true and we know that to be true, but do we believe it? Rarely. Instead, we let our thoughts consume us, depriving us of calm and making sleep as elusive as winning a big lottery jackpot.
THIS TOO SHALL PASS We know that’s true. Just as the weather changes, so do circumstances. Remember, nothing is permanent, so along with understanding that bad times aren’t permanent, we have to be willing to accept that neither are the good times, and that’s a healthy mentality to have because you can’t have one without the other. Please know, I’ve given this topic an extraordinary amount of thought and have had countless opportunities to practice letting go and letting be, but I am still a work in progress where failure oftentimes outweighs the successes, but practice makes perfect or at least as perfect as us fallible beings can be. You’ve got this my friends. Just as I believe in my ability to wade through all the positive and negative thoughts that fill up my head, I believe in your ability as well. Welcome each opportunity to engage in this practice. Eventually, you and I will get the hang of it and we’ll be better off as a result.
It won’t be long now.
I recently completed a guided meditation on loneliness where it was suggested that hunger and loneliness are spurred on by the same need in a person’s brain. When our tummy tells our brain it needs nourishment, we act on that need, but do we act on our need for connection when we’re lonely?
The class is a combination of Tai Chi with the healthy addition of maintaining physical balance in ones’ later years. I turn seventy years old next month so it stands to reason that seeking better balance would be high on my priority list. I am receiving the benefits of such exercise with the added benefit of meeting new people and spending time with them. The twenty students in the class are all of a certain age, the youngest being 50 and the oldest appears to be in their 80s.
Living: the ultimate team sport 