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Foggy winter day |
Sunday, February 2, 2025
Searching for serenity
Sunday, January 26, 2025
Clear and cold, still
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Lake Padden |
By 1972, O'Keeffe had lost much of her eyesight due to macular degeneration, leaving her with only peripheral vision. She stopped oil painting without assistance in 1972. In 1973, O'Keeffe hired John Bruce "Juan" Hamilton as a live-in assistant and then a caretaker. Hamilton was a potter. Hamilton taught O'Keeffe to work with clay, encouraged her to resume painting despite her deteriorating eyesight, and helped her write her autobiography. He worked for her for 13 years. The artist's autobiography, Georgia O'Keeffe, published in 1976 by Viking Press, featured Summer Days (1936) on the cover. It became a bestseller. During the 1970s, she made a series of works in watercolor. She continued working in pencil and charcoal until 1984 (Wikipedia).
That means she painted as long as she could and then made other arrangements. But I am not talented like her and have no idea what I will do when I can no longer read and write. I'm so glad to learn that she continued to work for thirteen years after she had lost her central vision. The world is better off for her efforts. She lived to be 98 and died in 1986, so she was able to continue painting for many years, with assistance.
I am fairly used to the limited vision I have now, but I know it will continue to deteriorate. I have no interest in living a long life as a blind person. Of course, in the eyes of some people, I have already been blessed with a long life, but Georgia lived sixteen years longer than I have been alive, with the same limited vision. However, I seem to be in good health, and nothing seems to be of imminent concern, but then again you never know when you get old. Sometimes I wonder what it will be that takes me over to the "other side" because you know that eventually we all die. Some people linger in pain and discomfort, and others die suddenly without a lot of fanfare. I think I would prefer the second option, but then again, do we get to choose?
I overslept this morning and will not be able to make a well-crafted and considered post, since I'm short of time. And it's colder this morning that it has been all week, with frost and very frigid weather outside. It's nice and warm inside, but I will be getting up soon and going to breakfast for John. My morning routine doesn't get shortchanged, either, as I still will find time for my exercises and meditation. I will enjoy the day and the week ahead, no matter what the news brings. In some ways, I have already grown accustomed to the news being bad, just like I have grown accustomed to limited vision. You gotta take what you get and find joy and peace in it, right? I will not be fully blind, and I will not be overwhelmed with it all. Instead, I will look for the silver linings that inevitably come, like this wonderful sunset picture.
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Bellingham Bay, with Lummi Island in the center |
The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision. —Helen Keller
I do hope that you find the silver linings in your own life, and that you will find some reasons to smile and laugh, because there is always something that lifts my spirits and make me happy to be alive today. Please forgive my somewhat truncated post. I will do better next week, if I can. My virtual family is as important to me as my "skin" family. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things, dear friends. Be well.
Sunday, January 19, 2025
Learning new things
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Generic high school kids in choir |
She is remembered for writing the sonnet "The New Colossus," which was inspired by the Statue of Liberty, in 1883. Its lines appear inscribed on a bronze plaque, installed in 1903, on the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty. —Wikipedia
Although Emma only lived to be 38, she accomplished a great deal during her lifetime (which is available on the Wikipedia link above). I was amazed, and a little unsettled, to learn how much she managed to accomplish in her short life. I also learned a great deal about Lady Liberty while doing this research.
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Front view |
What a different world it was back when the statue was erected and first celebrated in 1886. The world population was barely 1.2 million, while today we have more than 8 billion people on the planet, and more being born as I write this. The US population was only a little more than 50 million, while today we have more than 330 million Americans. So you can see that the world was not the same one that Emma wrote that sonnet for. We are a nation of immigrants, and people came here from all over the world for a long time, wanting and welcomed.
But today immigrants are discouraged from coming into the US, and the poem that Emma wrote and still appears on the statue, is no longer relevant. The world population has increased exponentially, and we are running out of resources and room to house and feed such populations. When I was born in California in 1942, the US only had 134 million people; now it has more than 330 million. That's a huge change, and I can certainly relate to how it has affected our lives, simply thinking back about the world half a century ago. When I learned those songs in school, I never thought about how much the world might change within my own lifetime.
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Back in early days with Mama |
Of course, now I do think about it. All those years of living and being alive have evolved me from this cheeky little toddler to the elderly white-haired old lady that looks back at me from the mirror. Well, sort of: my loss of vision means that I don't actually see all the wrinkles and whatnot that might make me feel sad. Instead, I see well enough to actually like the person who stares back at me. There are advantages to having low vision. Not many, but they are there. Here is Emma's sonnet:
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,With conquering limbs astride from land to land;Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall standA mighty woman with a torch, whose flameIs the imprisoned lightning, and her nameMother of Exiles. From her beacon-handGlows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes commandThe air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame."Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries sheWith silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
And with that ending, I'll finish up my post and get ready for the rest of my day ahead. It's sunny and very cold outside, but John will pick me up and we'll go out to breakfast together, enjoying the company and the food. Until we meet again, dear friends, I truly hope the universe will bring you all good things. Be well.
Sunday, January 12, 2025
Peace among turbulence
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Peaceful Lake Padden |
Try to be a rainbow in someone's cloud. —Maya Angelou
Sunday, January 5, 2025
Remembering and forgetting
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Mt Baker from Goose Rock trail |
Jump #869, 12/31/93—1/1/94, Skydive Colorado, A/C Beech-18, 55-second delay, exit at 13,000 ft. Six skydivers built a round and then whooped and hollered until pull time. Exited the plane at: 11:59:47.
While we were flying to altitude in that rusty old Beech-18, I remember the jumpmaster pointing out the drop zone, with the runway illuminated and cars lined up with their headlights pointing in the direction where we would land. Usually you land with the wind in your face, but in a situation like this, it was more important (since the wind was negligible and you couldn't see the windsock anyway) for us all to fly a set pattern to the ground and not get in each other's way. We had a full moon, or close to it, also giving us needed light to orient us. We wore glowsticks so that we could see each other in freefall. I had completely forgotten about all this, until I brought it back by reading that log entry. I also read about some other forgotten jumps, but these days I can only read such stuff by using a magnifying glass and a light, so once I found what I was looking for, I stopped.
That was more than thirty years ago, too. When I think of how much I've forgotten that still hangs out in my brain, until something activates a memory, they are simply interesting facts from a bygone era.
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Me landing at sunset in Eloy, AZ |
That picture was taken in the early 2000s by a famous skydiving photographer. He presented it to me the next day as a gift, and I loved it immediately and still look at it now and then. It's interesting that my skydiving days are in the distant past, but they still give me great pleasure to remember them. And although those days are over, I am still hiking in the mountains, which I have consistently done during the sixteen years since we moved here, but they too are beginning to begin to drift into the past. I am attempting much easier hikes these days, but I will probably go at least one more time to Goose Rock with the Senior Trailblazers. It's moderate in difficulty and distance, and I've made that trip to Deception Pass numerous times with them.
What seems to be in my future excitement falls into volunteering. I've said it before, but it bears repeating: giving my time to activities at the Senior Center that elevates the quality of our days is well worth it. I never fail to leave the lunchroom after my three-hour shift without a smile on my face and a pocket full of gratitude and thanks.
Life is good for this octogenarian, and I feel so very grateful for my continued ability to post here, to read all the comments you leave for me, and to visit my virtual family who lives all over the world and shows me what's possible if I will step out of my comfort zone and take a step into the unknown.
The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched; they must be felt with the heart. —Helen Keller
With that wonderful quote from Helen Keller, who overcame so much by stepping into the unknown without sight or hearing, I am encouraged to keep going forward for as long as I can. And I hope that you, my dear readers, will find ways to keep yourself engaged and involved in this beautiful world, for as long as you wish. My dear partner still sleeps quietly next to me as I finish up this post, and I move into the next part of my morning. John will be here in just over an hour, so I need to get up and do my exercises and spend a brief time in meditation before then. Until we meet again, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.
Sunday, December 29, 2024
Last post of 2024
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Me and Bestie Lily |
I spent some time yesterday with my dear friend Lily, who is recently back from visiting her family in Guatemala. I was relieved when I knew she had returned safely, since she has told me it's not a very safe place for anybody these days. Of course, that can be said for most places on the planet, with new wars seemingly developing every day. But mostly, at least around here, our country feels mostly stable and we, at least, have warm and safe homes to enjoy. We don't take it for granted.
I have been trying for the last few years to get used to not only becoming older, but also becoming one of the oldest of the old. There is truly something different about finding myself in my eighties, and I've been trying to wrap my mind around what it is that's different. One obvious fact is that there are few new ages ahead of me to experience, ages that I can see in the change of my features and in the faces of others in their eighties and nineties. Wowie zowie, I'm there!
When I first started pondering on this aging business, I was reluctant to consider what it all means, and where I am actually headed as I move from one day, one year to the next. It's not a mystery; we are all going to grow old and die, and if we are lucky we will live a good long and healthy life. But it still ends up in the same place, and coming to terms with it has taken me awhile. But I'm getting there. Fortunately there are lots of people who have tread these same paths before me, and many have written exquisitely about the journey.
The great thing about getting older is that you don't lose all the other ages you've been. —Madeleine L'Engle
When I look back on all the decades of life I've experienced, I can see many accomplishments that stand out and help to make me the person I am today. Neither of my parents lived this long, with Daddy dying of a heart attack at 62, and Mama as well, at the age of 69, almost 70. I have one aunt to made it into her nineties, but everyone else has died of heart disease, mostly. One sister, PJ, died at 63 in 2014, but my other siblings are still alive, busy living their "dashes" (the time between birth and death, as in 1942—?). I am also busy living mine, and enjoying some new wrinkles, both figuratively and literally speaking.
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Delicious cup of chai tea |
Last Thursday, both of the Senior Center hikes were canceled because of the projected onset of extremely high winds in the area, with Bellingham considered to be one of the more dangerous areas. It was eerie, the feeling that any moment the calm of the forest might just explode into a fifty-mile-an-hour windstorm. But the storm never came, and I spent my time anyway volunteering in the lunchroom, my now-usual Thursday activity. We volunteers worked as a team, very efficiently I might add, and I found myself thrilled to be part of such a well functioning group. And for once, I didn't forget any of my coffee drinkers as I went to find them once again. It's now becoming easier as I make sure I notice what someone is wearing and where exactly they are sitting as I fill their cup. Everything is a little easier as I learn the ropes and mentally work to maintain my equilibrium.
And I feel the weather is probably going to help me out, with the rain continuing but not the way it has been for the past few weeks. I decided yesterday that I didn't want to walk again in the rain, so I didn't. We had long moments of relative calm and even some sunshine yesterday, and my friend Lily and I took a short walk after our wonderful lunch. I came home feeling quite a bit better, more like the self I want to be, and not the grumpy old complaining oldster that sometimes takes over.
It really is true, life looks very different when I compare my mood when I'm smiling to when I'm frowning and not looking forward to better days ahead. We are into the winter months, and so far our temperatures have been very mild, so the rain that falls here in town turns into snow in the High Country, making for some happy skiers and snowboarders. I was a happy cross-country skier when I lived in Colorado, but here I turned into a hiker. I haven't missed skiing, surprisingly. That's another thing I notice about getting older: my passions have mellowed. Even the almost three decades I spent jumping out of airplanes seems like something I might continue to miss, but I was ready to stop, and that was a full a decade ago.
I did something last week that I thought was behind me: I read a complete book! My sister suggested I read her latest find, The Paris Library, by Janet Skeslien Charles, so I downloaded the audio app on my phone and also put it onto my Kindle, which I have discovered in "low vision" mode makes it possible for me to read for quite awhile before my eyes get tired. I didn't even need the audio version this time, but now I have it for the coming books I intend to enjoy. I was so ready to believe that my vision was continuing to deteriorate at a fast rate, but I think the dreaded eye jabs are making a difference. Nobody knows for sure, because it only slows the progression, but so far I am optimistic, and now I have the possibility of listening to entire books as well. Another wonderful way to stay engaged and feeling happy. I found this quote from Mark Twain that sums it up perfectly:
You can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus. —Mark Twain
Now that I am feeling better and my post is just about finished, I am also finding that my imagination is coming into focus and the world around me is looking good. My sweet partner still sleeps quietly next to me, and I am looking forward to breakfast with my friend John. Right now it's not raining, either! I hope you have a great week ahead, dear virtual family. Hopefully I'll be here next week with a plethora of smiles. Until then, dear friends, be well.
Sunday, December 22, 2024
Solstice and Christmas this week
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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.