Solstice and Christmas this week

Yummy Christmas treats

Years ago, Carrie created these lovely Christmas cookies for those of us in the coffee shop. It was Christmas Day and the shop was closed, but I could see her inside working away.  I snuck inside and got this picture. I believe I ate one of those "canes" in the foreground, but it's been so long ago now (nine years) that I've forgotten and am not even carrying around the leftovers on my hips any more. Carrie no longer works there, and I no longer hang out there, either, but instead at a different coffee shop a block away from this one.

Yesterday was the first day of winter, with today the first full day. After today, the light will slowly return to the skies, earlier and earlier, until by the end of January I will be able, in the mornings, to see the obvious return of the light. For about the first month of winter, the lengthening of the days is almost unnoticeable. And then... the first shoots of green will emerge from the ground. For now, however, we are in the throes of dark days and long winter nights. It's okay: 'tis the season.

When all the world appears to be in a tumult, and nature itself is feeling the assault of climate change, the seasons retain their essential rhythm. Yes, fall gives us a premonition of winter, but then, winter, will be forced to relent, once again, to the new beginnings of soft greens, longer light, and the sweet air of spring. —Madeleine M. Kunin

When I found that quote by Kunin, I got interested enough to look her up and found that she was the first woman elected to a governorship (Vermont) in the country. She not only lived into her eighties, but last September she celebrated her 91st birthday and still seems to be going strong. I downloaded onto my Kindle her book, Coming of Age: My Journey to the Eighties. She has written six books and still continues to write, these days it's her poetry that speaks directly to me. I recommend the above-mentioned memoir, however, which I am enjoying very much. These days I am drawn to others who are navigating the rough shoals of aging. I should add, "aging well," which she seems to have done. At 91, she is still active and has created a role model for us youngsters. I found this delightful article online about her; I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

One thing I have found that seems to be working for me: I read and follow much less of the political drama going on in Washington. Although I still read my usual headlines and articles that attract me, I am also spending more time doing online puzzles. It's been years since I started with Wordle, which I still "work" every day, first thing usually, and I have been enjoying the Advent calendar from a dear friend. She sends me a subscription to it, and this year I must find the hidden Santa within the busy Paris landscape. Only three more days before Christmas, and the end of Advent. Today we lit the last Sunday Advent candle (online, of course) and I have already solved today's Wordle. 

And now I am casting about for something interesting to write about, something that will help me to make it through the seemingly endless rain and dark days of the winter solstice here in the Pacific Northwest. There is so much to be appreciated in the world today, along with plenty to be sad and angry about, but I get to choose where I will place my attention. I choose to focus on the light returning at the beginning of the winter season. Instead of lamenting what is wrong in the news, I can read the poetry of Governor Kunin and learn how she's managing to grow old gracefully and thoughtfully. The last poem in her latest book, "Endings" says everything I could possible add to this post. Thank you, Madeleine, for your life and your work. 

***

I would like to probe deep,

write about life and death,

the meaning of existence.

I should have the answers

by now,

when the end is so near.

I procrastinate.

I tell myself

there is still time

Maybe tomorrow

Or the next day

Or the day after that

to write about the meaning

of life,

The meaning of my life.

Have I made a difference?

Have I been kind?

Have I dropped a coin

into a beggar’s hand?

Will I be remembered,

and by whom?

For What?

I’m too tired

No more deep questions, please.

Maybe tomorrow,

Or the next day

Or the day after that.

***

And with that lovely ending, I will wrap up this holiday post and give thanks for all of you, dear readers, and all of the wonderful and wondrous days that we will share ahead, along with all the many days behind us. Let us light the last Advent candle and look forward to the days ahead of us. Be well, and I wish you all good things, surrounded by love and light.

Gusty winds and old age

Start of Jingle Bell run/walk 12/14

After my usual time at the coffee shop, my friend Steve and I began a tentative walk yesterday morning, with the wind raging around us, but little to no precipitation. At first, it seemed like it would be okay to just walk to the boulevard, but the wind really scared me, since it was either not blowing at all, or lightly, and then a huge gust would come roaring down the street and almost blow me over. I didn't find it to be a comfortable walk at all, so we decided instead to head to a restaurant and have breakfast, a more leisurely way to enjoy the morning. That was very nice, indeed.

We saw the beginning of the 40th anniversary of the Jingle Bell run/walk in front of Bellingham High School. There were plenty of people dressed in festive gear, lots of people with their dogs (since they were encouraged to join in), strollers with babies, and just plain folks going out to have some fun. The event is sponsored by the Arthritis Foundation and includes a 5K untimed walk, a 1-mile run, a Dog Trot, and a special kids-only mile-long run. It looked like everybody was having a good time, and they didn't seem to mind the wind gusts as much as I did. For somebody who jumped out of airplanes and loved to ride the wind, this old lady, these days, has lost her desire for that kind of excitement. 

I came to the conclusion last week that, once you enter your ninth decade of life, when you hit eighty, things begin to change in many ways. I thought about how I am now deep into retirement and would not be considered for any kind of paying job. Who would hire me now? I don't know why it occurred to me all of a sudden like that, but it did. And I am definitely slowing down. I started volunteering at the Senior Center on Thursdays, which used to be my hiking day. Although there are some hikes I would like to do again, I am now limited by the elevation and length of certain ones. And I've done them all many, many times. Tuesday's shorter and less difficult hikes suit me perfectly. Plus I am also going to new places, some in Canada, and I am enjoying them very much. The people I hike with are mostly the same ones, unless they are significantly younger than me. I can allow myself to find new ways to get exercise. 

I feel very fortunate to still be as active as I am as a super-old senior. Once I looked up the stages of elder life on line, and found this:

The United States' older adult population can thus be divided into three life-stage subgroups: the young-old (approximately 65 to 74 years old), the middle-old (ages 75 to 84 years old), and the old-old (over age 85).

My friend John will soon enter the old-old category, and I asked him where he thought he might be in five years, and he said, "Dead." He takes many prescriptions daily, and is barely ambulatory. Although it takes him awhile to get going, he still does what he can. I take him as a cautionary tale about whether to keep on exercising and walking and working out as I have done for decades. But there is no doubt that I have entered that final stage of life. My senses are diminished, especially my ability to see clearly, and I know that is a progressive situation that cannot at this time be avoided. Maybe one day there will be a more suitable treatment for geographic atrophy, but for now I am taking those awful eye injections and will continue for as long as I have central vision in my left eye. The right eye's central vision is already gone, although I still have my peripheral vision in that eye. I can still navigate quite well with the one eye, and that is the reason I can still write these posts. I live with the dread of what my life will be like when I lose it. The treatment is only to slow down the progression, not fix it, so I know what's ahead.

But eyesight is just part of what one loses as you age. Sometimes I get really discouraged and wonder why this particular phase of life can be so long. I don't see any reason to justify old age, except here I am and all I did was continue to breathe, one day, one breath at a time. I got middle-old while I wasn't paying attention. And I see all stages of elder life at the Senior Center and realize I am very much one of the lucky ones because I can still stride forth with vigor, stretch and reach in my yoga classes, and will carry on for as long as possible. What else can I, or anyone, do?

Old age, believe me, is a good and pleasant thing. It is true you are gently shouldered off the stage, but then you are given such a comfortable front stall as spectator. —Confucius

Of course, Confucius died at 73 in 479 BC, but during his life he established a school of moral teachings that continues to this day. You can learn about him on his Wikipedia page here. By the way, I am one of the few people who continues to give money to the people who created Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia that I visit almost every day. If you want to help them out, please consider giving to this important organization. Whatever you do, it would be wonderful if you would find a few causes that you find useful and help with whatever you can afford. I don't give much, but there are a few organizations that I think are worth my time and money. Wikipedia is one of them. That's my pitch for the holiday season, friends. Now back to my regularly scheduled post.

I never know for sure where these posts will go, since I sit down with little to no idea of whether anything will emerge from the depths of my mind, but something always does. I know that my posts are sometimes unfocused (like me) and sometimes spot on (like I sometimes am), but I will continue with this endeavor for as long as I can. One day you will come here and find that I didn't post anything, and you will know that for whatever reason, this activity has come to a close. Everything changes, life moves on, and as Confucius says, we are "gently shouldered off the stage" and inevitably turn over the future to the young ones.

For the moment, all continues as usual. My dear friend John will come for me in his truck and we'll go out for breakfast. My sweet guy will be up by then and start his day, but for now he sleeps quietly next to me. Our adventure together will continue, for now. And this holiday season will become a memory, hopefully a good one for us all. I am feeling better since I sat down to write here, which is why I do it, and hopefully you will find some words of wisdom in here. You can't go wrong with Confucius. 

Until we meet again, dear friends, I wish you all good things, and a very happy holiday season. Be well.

Turbulent times

Holiday trees with white lights

I saw these pretty trees draped with white lights as I rode my bus to the coffee shop last week. I know that now Thanksgiving has occurred, one day I will notice that all the white lights have changed to blue ones. The city does it every year. I much prefer the white lights, but it really doesn't matter; they are all festive and what people want to see. 

Given the wet weather, I thought I might not get to take my usual Saturday hike with my friend Steve, but after we received a full inch of rain on Bellingham Friday night, I went out on Saturday morning pretty sure that we would take a walk around the harbor (which we did) since all the trails would be more than a little soggy. We started out with low dark skies, but no rain. Before we had traveled three miles, however, the rain started. And it rained. It blew the rain sideways at times, and we struggled back to our cars after having gotten really soaked. No matter: I ended up with more than five miles and 13,000 steps, so it was a good morning.

The best part of the weather was that the cold, foggy days that we've endured for the last week are now gone. The temperature is moderate, but the feeling that winter is just around the corner now dominates. And of course, everywhere is decorated with Christmas cheer, and I see plenty of smiles bestowed even by the people I see on the streets.

Yes, even those homeless people whom I see out there trying to stay warm and dry, even they seemed to be in a fairly good mood, when I walked by their encampments yesterday. I suppose they are not as clued in to the suffering and turbulence going on in the rest of the world right now, since they are busy dealing with their own difficult versions. I have a nice warm and safe place to come home to every day, so the weather is not so critical to me. I can get drenched and still come home and change into something dry, making my encounters with bad weather much less of an adventure. Life would be so different if I had to live without a home. 

And with all that is happening in the world today, right now, if I spend too much time contemplating humanity's ills, I get bogged down in it myself, and tend to forget to look up from the news and regain a better perspective. I have long believed that much of our pain and suffering can be mitigated by getting good exercise and practicing yoga. Overnight, the Syrian dictator Assad was toppled and fled to parts unknown. The Middle East is in extreme turmoil. I read the news this morning and reluctantly pulled away to write this post. I did wonder where yoga that is practiced here in the West originated, so I looked it up.

Yoga is a method for restraining the natural turbulence of thoughts, which otherwise impartially prevent all people, of all lands, from glimpsing their true nature of Spirit. Yoga cannot know a barrier of East and West any more than does the healing and equitable light of the sun. —Paramahansa Yogananda

I have practiced some form of yoga for most of my life. When I was a young person in Boulder, I was introduced to several different yoga teachers who held classes and seminars for the public. I well remember one female yogini who filled a classroom with people like me, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the floor. In those days, I could easily sit in the lotus position, but now I use a meditation bench which allows me to do a version called virasana. The main thing about sitting in meditation is to keep the back straight. 

If you want to know more about yoga, especially hatha yoga, you can find plenty of information about it online. Start with learning about asanas, the body posture used as a basis for most physical and mental exercises.

An āsana (Sanskrit: आसन) is a body posture, originally and still a general term for a sitting meditation pose, and later extended in hatha yoga and modern yoga as exercise, to any type of position, adding reclining, standing, inverted, twisting, and balancing poses. 

Ooops! I got off onto a long sidetrack by reading for too long about it all. Well, I do need to finish this post so I can continue with the rest of my day. Just reading about yoga, even without practicing it, seems to make me feel better about life. And I do spend some time in meditation every morning, meaning I don't want to get too carried away here and forget about all the rest of my morning practice.

It is the beginning of the winter season, in just a few weeks we will have our longest night (in the Northern Hemisphere) and shortest day. Some people get really SAD during this time (that would be Seasonal Affective Disorder) because they miss the sunshine. Since I make a point of getting outdoors almost every day, it doesn't seem to affect me that much. Plus, I love to snuggle down into my comforter and fall into a restorative sleep every night. I feel very blessed not to have much problem falling asleep, but there are times when I wake and cannot get back to sleep right away. I usually practice some breathing exercises to help, and it almost always works. At least, I awake without having been aware of falling asleep.

A Christmas hot chocolate

I found this picture in my catalog of times past, taken two years ago by my friend Melanie. I think we might have been having a bit of alcohol under all that whipped cream, but I can't be sure. I like the festive feeling in the air, and although I no longer use a mask whenever I go out (that's the blue thing under my chin), it could have been taken today. I was a mere youth of 80 at that time, though, and I now officially two years older. How time flies!

Well, my dear friends, that will have to do for this morning's post. I must get up out of bed and start the rest of my day, so that I will be ready when John gets here to take me to breakfast. My dear partner still sleeps next to me, and the day beckons. I do hope that you, dear friends, will have a wonderful week ahead and that we will meet here once again next week. Until then, I wish you all good things.

Birthday again already?

Aldo Leopold bench on Cypress Island

Yes, it's that time again: my birthday, just when I had been getting used to being 81, now I am 82. This lovely picture of an Aldo Leopold bench on Cypress Island was taken exactly one year ago Friday. I learned about Aldo from my virtual friend Connie years ago. She sent me a copy of the book, A Sand County Almanac, written by Leopold, and first published in 1949 by his son. I might just read it again, since I remember how much I enjoyed it but have forgotten why, other than a few vivid scenes that live in my memory through his writing.

During the past winter, I went on several excursions by water taxi to different San Juan islands that are only accessible by boat. I didn't realize it had been a full year until I went back through my pictures, looking for something to head up this post and found this one. Leaves have fallen and the bushes and branches are into their winter mode. And we are there once again, after a year of sprouting, turning into blossoms and fruiting, before again returning to rest for another winter.

At my age, there are few new adventures for me to experience, after a full lifetime of them. Here I am again, looking forward to winter after a beautiful (although wet) fall here in the Pacific Northwest. Every year, however, I realize that I am no longer young, and no longer interested in finding new adventures. I'm resting on my laurels instead. What does that mean exactly?

To “rest on our laurels” means to relax and rely on our past achievements or success as justification for not achieving new things or new success. It comes from the ancient Greek and Roman societies, where high-ranking and high-achieving people were awarded crowns made of laurel leaves to mark their accomplishments.

It seems like an accomplishment for me just to have reached this age, since all but one of my family members never made it this long. Daddy died at 62, Mama at 69, my grandmother to 79, and here I am beginning my eighty-third year of life on this planet. I don't remember many individual birthdays from long ago, other than vague recollections, such as turning 21 and going to a bar for the first time and ordering a drink. Or turning sixteen and getting my driver's license and promptly crunching in the front fender of my dad's car. In later years, my friend Lily has given me some nice gatherings to mark the day, such as this one:

Not hard to tell which one this was

She gave me the balloon afterwards, and I realized how much I didn't want to advertise my new decade, but it was such a nice gesture that I appreciated it anyway. She is a good friend and is currently out of town, so no birthday celebrations for me today. My guy wanted to buy me some fudge bars to celebrate, but my recent blood work has caused me to decide to cut back sweets. My triglycerides are too high and I need to stop eating so many sugary delights. It will be my task to get the numbers lower for my next trip to the doctor. Other than that, everything looks good, which makes me wonder just what awful disease will probably cause my demise.

Maybe it's normal to get to my age and wonder about such things. One thing I know, I will not be getting any surgeries or chemo to extend life into my nineties. Life does not seem quite as exciting when you've lost your sight. Although I still have enough to get by right now, my retina specialist doesn't pull any punches: I'm going to become legally blind in the not-so-distant future. Tomorrow I get my next eye jab, and so far I've still got central vision in my left eye. But as I said, life will become harder when it's gone. For someone who has taken her sight for granted, it will be a real game-changer. But not yet, for now I can see well enough to write here, and to read the news websites and watch episodes of my favorite shows on my laptop. I also realized the other day that I can still see everything, just not all at once. I have two magnifying glasses that are essential for seeing some things, and I have my sweet partner to function as my eyes when I drop something and it seemingly disappears.

I have so much to be grateful for, and I never take for granted the ability I have to get outdoors and enjoy the wonderful walks and hikes that I still take every day. My doctor told me not to stop moving, it's essential for my physical and mental health, and I intend to do that for as long as possible. Tuesday the Happy Wanderers will be heading to British Columbia for a nice six-mile walk along the Fraser River, a walk that is new to me. And yesterday I got in my usual Saturday walk with my friend Steve. We went to Fairhaven along the South Bay trail and watched flocks of Canada geese, both in the water and on the boulevard. We saw lots of people whose dogs had taken their owners for a walk, and plenty of happy smiles on faces everywhere. 

Today John will pick me up and take me to our regular place for breakfast, and I'll do my puzzles and watch a bit of TV, and start my Advent calendar, which was sent to me by a friend. Advent starts today, and this calendar gives me some presents to "open" each day until Christmas. To sum everything up in a few words, "life is good." I feel very blessed to start my eighty-third year with you, my dear virtual family, and my very own special partner, who sleeps next to me as I write this.

I sincerely hope that the coming month of December, which has the longest night and shortest day (in the Northern Hemisphere, that is), and where somewhere there are carolers going from house to house, snow is falling in other places, and the gentle quiet season settles around us. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things. Be well.

After the bomb cyclone

by Gary Lindsay (Seeing Bellingham group)

Here in the Pacific Northwest, last week we experienced a "bomb cyclone" event that caused lots of rain, wind, downed trees and caused lost power for many, which does happen often during the late fall and winter months. Bomb cyclones are a little more rare; however, they do happen around here. But after this one, we had many rainbows appear in the sky, like a benediction from the heavens. I just finished spending some time on Facebook's "Seeing Bellingham" group, and I snagged the picture above from Gary Lindsay, who publishes his photos often to share them with fellow Bellingham denizens.

What is a bomb cyclone, you ask? So did I, and this is what I found on the internet:

Bombogenesis can happen when a cold air mass collides with a warm air mass, such as air over warm ocean waters. It is popularly referred to as a bomb cyclone.

 Many residents in the area are still without power, almost a week later. We didn't lose ours, but when I went to the coffee shop last Friday, I overheard some people say they still didn't have theirs restored. And one of my usual hiking groups, which did a big loop of more than 11 miles last Thursday, posted pictures of the damage to many trees they encountered, so much so that they lost the trail at times. Everyone made it back safely, but I suspect that it qualified as a real adventure! I was busy at my volunteer job of serving around a hundred seniors lunch, after setting up the tables and, afterwards, wiping everything down and putting it all back, to be taken out the next day when it all starts over again. I have decided to make Thursday my regularly scheduled work, with the caveat that if I need to take a day off to join a hike, it would be fine. With the weather turning rather bleak, I am not looking to do that anytime soon.

I have my annual wellness check scheduled for Monday, and a week later I will get my next eye jab. I can't believe how much I obsess over that ten-second episode, but I do. There are two hours of preparation beforehand (eye exams, dilation, numbing, etc.) and a few minutes afterwards before I am taken home by my husband. My eye is uncomfortably sore for about an hour, before it all settles down again. Plus I discovered that next year, when I start a new Medicare Advantage plan, I'll be paying $325 for the privilege of having the procedure. My old plan has bitten the dust, and I did check for something that covers the majority of it. They charge the insurance company almost 5K for each shot. I pondered having it all stop, but frankly, whatever it takes for the possibility of keeping my central vision in my left eye around for awhile longer, I'll do it. Losing my eyesight has been very challenging, but I can still see well enough for most of my daily routines.

That said, I am also very glad to have the opportunity to cherish each day of relative health and happiness that I still enjoy. It's either that, or spend my days wishing things were different, and that does nothing but cause sadness and emotional pain. It's not always easy to grow older and more infirm as the days, weeks and months pass by, but the alternative is unacceptable: denial, or worse, hopelessness. When I look back at my life, the peaks and valleys, they sort of morph into a gentle wave, a tide if you will, that we all ride.

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages. —William Shakespeare

This comes from a longer monologue by Shakespeare in his play, "As You Like It," and is interesting to think about. I knew it from earlier times when I could read more easily, but I remember thinking about it and pondering its meaning even back then. Wikipedia has a page that contains the entire poem, if you are interested, here. In reading it again this morning, I was struck by the last lines:  

Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Little by little, we move through life's stages and inevitably die, which is the fate of all living things. But reading about Shakespeare this morning, I realize that some of us continue to have effects on others long after we have left the stage ourselves. Shakespeare is one of those people. His lifetime (1564-1616) shows he lived to be into his fifties, which was a full life in those days. I imagine he didn't actually end up "sans" everything, but who knows? Did people who lived into their fifties in those days also end up in a second childhood? I imagine if I didn't have dental care that I would probably not having all the teeth I have today, and people centuries ago did not live to be in their eighties very often, I suspect.

So, looking at my life, I realize that it's been a wonderful adventure, filled with lots of peaks and valleys, and now I sit here in my bed, in the dark, with my dear partner sleeping quietly next to me as I write on my laptop. The room is illuminated by its white screen. I have been doing this now for more than 760 Sundays, and I have not missed any, I don't think.  I remember writing one from my bed in Istanbul when I was there, and many times from Florida visiting my sister. I don't do that every year any more. Travel has become really difficult without being able to see all that well, and it's unnecessary anyway. FaceTime once a months suffices.

Norma Jean and I have been in each other's lives for the entire time we've been alive. I had a short two years between my birth and hers when she wasn't around, but otherwise we grew up together and share many memories of our family members who are long gone. And of course there are those vivid dreams when family members who have died will come to visit me. They are sometimes as realistic as if it were happening right then. The brain is a curious organ, isn't it? I am happy mine still seems to be functioning well enough these days. Tomorrow it might not be, but today is really all we have. That, and our memories, and our hopes and aspirations for the future. But they are just possibilities, not guarantees in any way.

Whatever the future holds for all of us, or any one of us, will be known one day, when the future is no longer the future but becomes the past. In any event, I will try to take advantage of every single day of this unique life of mine, and I will enjoy reading all the blog posts of my virtual friends and family, learning how to navigate our days as they come. And go.

And that is the cue for my exit from this post: it's almost time for me to get up and start the rest of my Sunday. John will be here to take me to breakfast, and then I'll come back home and spend some time with my guy, who will be up by then. And then it will be midday and hopefully not raining, so I can get in a nice walk. I do hope your days are good ones, and that you will be well and safe between now and when we meet again. I also hope you will find yourselves surrounded with love and happiness. Be well, my dear friends.

Grey, cold and windy

The harbor, in between raindrops

It's amazing to see how so many parts of the world are getting incredible amounts of rain, while others are in a serious drought. Last week in Spain, for instance, the country experienced extreme amounts of rain and flash floods, with hundreds killed or missing. And more is still to come, apparently. While all that rain fell there, places in Australia and others in the northeastern part of America are having unprecedented drought. Whether all of this strange weather might (or might not) be caused by climate change, it is very distressing for those caught up in it. There is no doubt that the entire world is affected by changing weather patterns. And nowhere is safe.

I feel rather fortunate to be dealing with just a few inches of rain and some wind, as we navigate through the fall and move into the winter months. All those leaves on last week's maple tree picture, today, show only a few still hanging on and many bare branches. In almost five weeks we will reach the longest night and shortest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere before the light returns. In the Christian calendar, Advent falls on December 1st, my birthday. This year, it's also the day before my next eye jab, which obviously I don't look forward to in any way. But I also won't miss it, since it's the only chance I have of keeping the central vision in my left eye.

I don't wish this awful eye disease (geographic atrophy) on anyone. Yesterday I walked with my friend Steve down the South Bay trail to Woods Coffee and back, and because it was so overcast and dark, my ability to see ahead was quite compromised. I am often reminded of the Biblical phrase "through a glass darkly." It means to have an imperfect or obscure vision of reality. It appears in 1 Corinthians 13:12, where the Apostle Paul writes, "For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."

As I continue to deal with this affliction, which will only get worse as I age, I think of Helen Keller, who suffered an infection as a toddler that took not only her sight, but also her ability to hear. She became almost feral in her early childhood, until her teacher, Anne Sullivan, was able to reach her through tapping the word "w-a-t-e-r" into her palm, and Helen finally got the message that allowed her to soar to heights that still astonish people today. In her long and productive life, she learned to read five languages, and she was the first deaf and blind person ever to graduate from college (Radcliffe) which she did by graduating cum laude with a BA degree in 1904. She didn't stop there: Helen met thirteen presidents during her lifetime, and wrote books that are still available today. She lived a long life and died at 87. If Helen could do all that, I think it's appropriate for me to start looking for ways for me to help others, rather than allow self-pity to dominate my life. Although she died in 1968, she still inspires others through her writing.

When I compare my life with hers, I realize that sight is not as important in becoming a good person as having a positive attitude about one's situation. I still remember from her memoir a time when she was reading a story (in Braille) and was so caught up in it that she had to stop and calm herself before continuing. I think it was "Tale of Two Cities" but I'm not sure. In any event, I am grateful for Helen's contribution to our world. She helped to establish the American Civil Liberties Union and was very active in politics. 

She changed her world in many ways, and it makes me wonder if I am being too passive in my own situation today. Although during the past election I supported the losing candidate, I learned so much about the ways America has changed, some for the better, since Helen was alive and active. For one thing, we have instant access to the news of the day, as well as plenty of misinformation that needs to be recognized for what it is. I wonder how she would have dealt with the issues that have emerged in our present-day world.

Helen Keller wrote 14 books and over 475 speeches and essays on topics such as faith, nature, racism, human rights, and overcoming adversity. She read avidly and wrote about many of the significant political, social, and cultural movements of the 20th century.

When I think of how much she accomplished, I realize that I shouldn't compare my life to hers, but instead concentrate on what I can still learn and share with others. If I take her life as an inspiration, I can see how just opening myself up to what I might achieve in the time I have left to me can enrich not only my own life, but others as well. I am eternally grateful for the ability to think clearly, feel deeply, and act accordingly. If I can inspire even one person to give themselves a much-needed pat on the back, it's worth trying, don't you think?

And now I sit here in the dark, thinking with affection about all of you, my dear virtual family, and what we can do to lift up our spirits, as well as those of our neighbors. Let's concentrate on all the good around us; it's there if we just look. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Feeling my way ahead

Favorite tree in glorious fall colors

I walk by this tree several times a week, year round. It's in Cornwall Park. A huge maple tree, I think a Japanese maple looking at the shape of the leaves. I am not someone who knows her trees, but this one looks so lovely through all the seasons, even in winter when it's bare of leaves. When we get our next windstorm, it will be completely bare. Until next spring, that is.

There are two meanings to the title of this post: the necessity to learn how to "see" things by feel, and finding my way through the sadness that engulfs me every time I think of the election this past week. We Democrats not only lost the presidency, but also the Senate and, most likely, the House of Representatives. Not to mention a Supreme Court that gave away the checks and balances that our founders put into the Constitution more than a quarter of a millennium ago. Even so, all of life's events that are born also have to face a demise. Perhaps this is the end of the wonderful experiment that they created so long ago, or maybe it's just another form of government being created. Who knows? I certainly don't and will probably not live to see the election of another president. I wrestle with fear and sadness almost every day.

Being alone with fear can rapidly turn into panic. Being alone with frustration can rapidly turn into anger. Being alone with disappointment can rapidly turn into discouragement and, even worse, despair. —Mark Goulston

Yes, I am sad, but I am also not wanting to withdraw from life and all the challenges that I face every day. You see, the other part of the post's title has to do with losing my ability to see, to discern shapes as they truly are, and not the way my failing eyes skew my vision. Since I can still see well enough to write on my laptop, I will take advantage of this time to learn all I can about how others cope with low vision. I don't read books anymore, but I can still get any that I want to read in audio form. For the moment, I can also continue to read blog posts from my online community, and continue to post twice a week without much problem.

Getting older and losing one's faculties is something everyone who is blessed to live a long life will have to deal with. Now that I am approaching my eighty-second birthday, I can proudly say I've already done it: gone through all the phases of life and have plenty of like-minded old people to hang out with. And that is what the Senior Center has given me already, and will continue to give me as I grow in my ability to serve others. That is one of the most amazing aspects of aging: finding new ways to be happy and not taking any of my days for granted.  

Like many others, I was devastated on Wednesday morning when I woke to see the news, and the only good part about it is realizing that many of my fellow Americans got just what they wanted. I happen to live in a blue state, and during the election season I didn't see even one Trump/Vance sign. Plenty of Harris/Walz ones, though, and it gave me the wrong impression of the direction the country was headed. I just didn't expect the gut punch I received on Wednesday morning, and now I am trying to find my way ahead.

I am no stranger to grief, having lost both of my children and both of my parents, as well as a sister and many friends over the years. I know how to navigate grief, and I also know that the place I am in right now will change and become easier to bear as the days and weeks pass. When my infant son Stephen died, I was only 22 and had very little ability to navigate the headwaters I faced. It took me a decade to find happiness and wholeness again, but I did, of course. My son Chris was only 4 when he lost his brother, and then his father when we divorced. He bore the scars of his childhood until he too died at the age of 40 while serving in the Army. The feeling I have today resembles the one I felt in the early days after Chris' sudden death.

Yesterday morning I went on my usual walk from the coffee shop with my friend Steve. I was in a black mood when we started, but after a mile or so of being outside in the light rain showers with a good friend, I began to feel much more like myself. Exercise always makes me feel better, and this week I discovered another way to cope: service to others. When I worked on Thursday through the lunchroom hours, I didn't think for a moment about anything except what I had to accomplish to help others enjoy their lunch. I walked out on my way to the bus, feeling whole and happy for the first time this week. It makes me realize what a difference it makes when one stops wallowing in pain by helping others deal with life's ups and downs. Service: I think I'll do more of it.

And just by sitting here in the dark and writing down these words, I realize that I am more grounded and feeling better today than I thought I would. Today, by the way, would have been my son Chris' sixty-third birthday. He never had the chance to grow old, but I can imagine the balding gray-haired old gentleman he would have turned into, since so many of my companions have already done so. Although I don't celebrate his birthday these days, I can send a missive of love and appreciation into the Universe for his life. 

Thank you to my dear readers as well, for being there, for going through your own lives and finding ways to deal with all the travails that come our way during the weeks and years we share. I hope I will be able to see well enough to continue this endeavor for a bit longer, but don't you worry, I'll find a way. My sweet partner still sleeps next to me at this moment, and I have plenty of blog posts to read this morning, as the rain gently falls outside. Soon my friend John will pick me up and we'll go out for our Sunday morning breakfast. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things. Be well.