A new day, a new beginning

Clearing clouds

Last February, on one of our Trailblazer hikes, it rained almost the whole day (not unusual),  but just as we were beginning to head back down the old logging road, the clouds cleared just for a moment, just long enough for me to capture this view of Mt. Baker and the Twin Sisters. Just a few minutes after I took this, the clouds again obscured them, but I will always have the photo to remind me of that moment.

This morning I woke from a very realistic dream that lingers in my mind. I dreamed that I was with a man whom I had just met, but we bonded very strongly. I didn't know his name, but I could tell that the feeling was mutual. We held each other in a long hug, and then he turned away to walk through Security in some crowded airport or other. I called out to him, "Will I ever see you again?" He stopped and looked back at me, and I realized I was mistaken: it wasn't him at all but someone else who looked like a younger version of the same man. Where was the mystery person I had recognized as my soul mate? This morning as I sit here with my laptop, I can recall his protective touch, his smell, and the look in his eyes. A sense of loss filled me as I woke from the dream.

And now, as I enter this new day, the dream fades and all I have left is a vague memory. It's similar to the memory I have of the day when I took the picture: it's still there, but it's just a glimpse as the clouds cleared away, enough to remain tucked somewhere in the recesses of my mind, not enough to have a clear focus, just enough to remember it happened. Dreams are funny that way.

Today begins the eye drops I'll be adding to my soon-to-be-operated-on eye. Tuesday is the big day, and I wake in the middle of the night and spend some time thinking about the event. Almost everyone I know who has endured cataract surgery gets through it just fine, so why am I so anxious? Perhaps it's because I made the mistake of researching it thoroughly on the internet and know all the things that can go wrong. Although it's a very common surgery, I'll be glad when the next month has passed and I'll be on the other side of both events. Next week I'll report on the experience of the first eye. It's the bad one, the one that has already lost some vision from AMD (age-related macular degeneration). I spend some time wondering whether the increased vision from the cataract removal will make the vision loss more acute, or less so. In any case I won't have the wonderful clear focus that people without AMD receive. I have no choice but to deal with whatever I end up with.

I almost decided to talk about the weather and went over to the website to check it out. I listened to the wind blow, hard, all night long, and the unusual warmth that accompanied it. But no, that's not where I want to go today. It's tempting, because it's a safe subject, but not at all where my mind travels when I stop to think. No, instead I reflect on the awful terrorist attack that took place at a Sufi mosque in Egypt. More than 300 people were mowed down in a few minutes. Sufism is the mystical branch of Islam, believing in love, peace, and tolerance. This article will introduce you to it, if you know little about Sufism. From that article:

 “It is nothing more than the spiritual dimension,” Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf told the New York Times. “It is Islam, but we focus on meditation, on chanting sessions, which enable the Muslim to have his or her heart open. The myths people have about Sufis are analogous to the myths people have about Muslims.”

When I was a young woman living in a hippie commune, we practiced Sufi dancing once a week in the ballroom of the old mansion that had been repurposed as our community home. I have lovely memories of dozens of us in the dim room walking through the simple steps of the dance and chanting together. Never in my wildest imaginings would I have believed that anybody in the world would see this gentle practice as heretical. But to Muslim extremists, it justifies killing hundreds of people. My heart goes out to those who survived this massacre and who will likely never fully recover. I just pray that it doesn't turn these believers in love and tolerance into their opposite. It's hard not to think of revenge.

We live in a violent world, with terrorist attacks having now become an almost daily event. All around the world, people are frightened and afraid. That means, to me, that the terrorists are accomplishing what they set out to do. They believe that the Apocalypse is imminent and they are going to see us all return to medieval times, and they are hurrying it along. That's my belief about the Islamic State's goals, anyway. A really good article about Islam was written in 2015 in the Atlantic. I learned a great deal from it (What ISIS Really Wants). It's long and thorough, but it doesn't make me feel any better about what's yet to come. It did make me realize why ISIS believes that love and tolerance are heretical ideas.

It's hard for me to imagine what I, a single person, might be able to accomplish in the world today, but then again, I know that it's not possible to remain ignorant and aloof from the trials we all face, each and every day. I believe in love and tolerance as the way I can go towards wholeness. I have known suffering and loss, and there will be more of it to come, but I will not turn away from love. In fact, I found this lovely quote from Elisabeth Kugler-Ross that says it all for me:

The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of those depths. 

Bringing myself back to the title of this post, "A new day, a new beginning," I will endeavor to find a way to spread love and hope for a better future around in my little corner of the universe. And now it's time to spend my day with some coffee, a scheduled massage, and a movie with my friend Judy. I wish you and your loved ones a stress-free, wonderful day. Until we meet again next week.

Go outside and play

My current favorite book

When I was a little girl, I often heard the admonishment from my mother to "go outside and play." She wanted to be by herself, or she had a project that she couldn't do with me and my sister underfoot, so we were told to find something to do that would give her some time and not have to worry about us. My sister and I would often take our dolls (when we were very young) and play with them in the back yard, pretending to be grownups with babies of our own.

Now that I am old, I still find myself wanting to play in the outdoors. Mama was right that it was a good thing to do. I have vague memories of coming inside after a day of play, grimy with dirt under my fingernails and having my hands scrubbed clean so I could sit down at the dinner table and be presentable. Well, I have learned from the book in the above picture that the earlier activity has carried me into my later years with a healthy love of the outdoors. Early next year, I will have been retired from my career for a decade, ten years of life lived without the structure of a job.

And what have I done with the time? As many of you know, I am not comfortable without some kind of structure, so I created my own daily routine, and I've been very happy inside of it. I wake early, as I did when I was working (it's 5:30am as I write this) and start my day by getting a cup of tea and climbing back into bed, propped up so I can read and write on my laptop as my partner continues to sleep next to me. He's late to bed and late to rise, but I find that it's not the same when he decides (as he occasionally does) to get up while I'm sitting here tapping away. I miss his presence, even if he's not actually conversing with me. Our connection is strong even in silence.

The reason I have introduced you to the book above, Aging Well, is that I've been reading it for quite awhile now. I have it on my Kindle and when I climb into bed at night, I open it and read a bit until I feel ready to snuggle under the covers and fall asleep. Rarely do I read for more than a few minutes, but sometimes I get pulled in and end up reading a little longer. The last few nights I have actually been looking forward to reading more; he tells stories throughout the book about people who have found ways to have satisfying and healthy lives well into their ninth decade. I'm currently reading the chapter on retirement. He suggests that there are four things we need to be happy in these later years.

(1) A social network. Once we leave our work life, he says, we need to replace our work mates, those we spent time with daily, with others we can interact with in meaningful ways. I realize that the world of the Internet has helped me to develop interests that I would not otherwise have been exposed to. Blogging is a fantastic social network, for me at least. And (dare I say it?) Facebook.

(2) Rediscover how to play. He suggests that "play provides a wonderful magic that is especially suited to retirement, for play permits a person to maintain self-esteem while giving up self-importance." And as you know about me, I'm particularly happy to go outside and play, gathering what I will need for a day outside in the wilderness with my other retired friends.  I also enjoy heading off to the movies with my friend Judy, or playing word games with my partner. Anthropologist Melvin Kohner points out that "play is an expenditure of energy that is both pleasurable and impractical."

(3) Creativity. When we are busy earning a living, it's not always possible to allow ourselves to be creative. When I first read this, I didn't actually think I am a very creative person. However, he explains that being creative means bringing something to the world that didn't exist before. It could be something as simple as cooking something new, or taking out watercolors and painting a picture. He says in the book, "Talent is just as important to 78-year-old Mary creating plum jam for the admiration of her doctor as it was to 80-year-old Georgia O'Keeffe in her studio eliciting admiration from thousands."

(4) Lifelong learning. The author suggests that to have a happy retirement, one needs to keep on learning new things. Learning about the world around us can continue whether or not one has much income. I make use of my library to read all the books I want, on every subject that appeals to me, and it costs me nothing. Obviously, this current book appealed to me because I am in the process of finding out ways to make the best of the years I have left. Recently I spent a good deal of time reading about cataract surgery and have learned plenty.

I spend a good deal of my daily activity reading, either online or hand-held books. I love the feel of a book in my hand, and as I was writing about the four activities above, I felt constrained by the fact that I had no actual book to refer to, as I own it electronically and had to keep reopening the device and scrolling back and forth looking for what I had previously read.

There's plenty more in the book that I found of interest, but mostly I find it comforting to learn of so many other people who have found joy and satisfaction in their later years. It's not much fun to think that one might not have the guidepost of fellow travelers on this journey, and every time I discover that I am not alone in my quest, it feels good. Plus, this author has a few other books for me to read.

Once I am finished with this book, though, I'll probably return to one of my spiritual books to give myself something to read before I fall asleep. They don't hold my interest nearly as well as this one has, so they last longer. I find myself happy to have something uplifting to ponder as I tuck myself into bed at night.

We've got another rainy period ahead, with lots of snow falling in the High Country, while we get the wet stuff down here. The skies will be grey and the days are short at this time of year, so finding a way to be comfortable with it all means that I won't be going outside to play much right now. It's all right, though, because I've got plenty to keep me occupied. I do hope that you will spend the next week doing something that gives you pleasure, too. For those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you have a wonderful day with lots of good food to enjoy. We'll be having our traditional salmon dinner, compliments of my fisherman friend. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things.

Dream a little dream with me

A beautiful purple sunset

I found this lovely picture while I was perusing Earthsky News. Graham Telford captured this sunset while he was fishing at Stainforth, a village in the United Kingdom. I subscribed to the website awhile back and enjoy seeing what's happening in the sky, and every day they have a different image to delight their readers. Between this blog and Astronomy Picture of the Day, I start every morning with a look at something that gives me perspective beyond my own little corner of the world.

Thank you to everyone who left such thoughtful comments on this blog last week. I was a little bit startled by the wonderful advice I received, since I can never predict what will come out of my fingers when I sit down and begin, as I am right now. And to have struck a chord that resonated with so many of you that caused you to open up your hearts, well I am just grateful to have found this connection with you. I am not likely to repeat the endeavor today, because now I'll be trying too hard, and that will spoil it. They come when they come, and I have to be content with that.

Tomorrow I have the pre-op appointment with the doctor who will be performing the cataract surgery on my first eye, the "bad" one that is already missing vision. Although I've researched how the surgery affects AMD (age-related macular degeneration), I know that it's unpredictable, but in most cases the effect of allowing more light into the eye helps, at least for awhile. AMD is progressive, and the sight that I've lost will not be returned. I wonder, though, if it will make the vision loss more pronounced or not. Whatever, I'll be glad when the surgery is behind me. Then I will know in no uncertain terms.

Last night I had very vivid dreams, and I woke at one point realizing that I had raised my hand to answer a question that someone in the dream had asked. It was enough to wake me from the dream, to realize that I'd actually moved a part of my body in response to a dream sequence. I've never been a sleepwalker, but I figure that must be how it works: you are fast asleep and acting out the dream. Sometimes I have awakened and realized that I was so involved in a dream that it felt incredibly real. It reminds me of a time when I had (in my dream) been laughing with my mother, one of those belly laughs that you can't help but respond to, and I laughed hard enough to wake myself up. The feeling I had from that dream stayed with me throughout the day. I found this fascinating information about sleepwalking and dreaming after a quick search:

As far as we can tell, sleepwalking occurs because two parts of the brain are "awake" at once. The first is the part that is meant to be percolating while people are asleep. It's not the part that vividly dreams. Sleepwalkers don't walk during REM sleep, but about half an hour before they enter REM sleep. The second part of the brain kept awake is the motor cortex. 

It's from a longer article called "How Can Dreams Control Your Body?" and is an interesting read. One of the reasons that it takes me so long to write these Sunday morning posts is that I keep getting sidetracked into articles like that one. At any rate, vivid dreams do seem to come to me more often when I've got something on my mind, like the upcoming surgery. Maybe it's a way I use to come to terms with it. I found a quote from Gloria Steinem that says "Without leaps of imagination, or dreaming, we lose the excitement of possibilities. Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning." I like that idea: that I am in the process of planning for a really good outcome. The strange thing for me about dreams, though, is their total unpredictability and inability to manage them.

That reminds me that years ago I got a book about Lucid Dreaming, which gives the dreamer some tools to use in order to direct one's dreams. I got about halfway through the book and, after trying some of the methods to direct my dreams, I lost interest. It didn't seem to work for me, although I think there are plenty of people who can make use of lucid dreaming, I'm not one of them.  For one thing, I sort of enjoy drifting off to sleep and allowing the dreams to come to me, not actually go looking for them. I don't always remember my dreams, but often enough to look forward to them. I rarely have unpleasant ones.

Although it's been years now since I've made a skydive, the experience is so ingrained in me that I often still dream about it. I suppose that having accumulated the equivalent of more than two days in freefall might explain why it actually feels comfortable to think of being there again. Sometimes I dream of flying, which is a similar feeling to freefall of being weightless and free to navigate the skies. Of course, in freefall you are also flying in a vertical perspective. Those wing suit fliers actually go farther horizontally than they do vertically. Eventually, though, they have to land, and hopefully they've got some sort of parachute over your head when they do.

I loved my pretty parachutes. I think I have owned more than half a dozen over the years, not because I wore them out, but because I was interested in trying different ones. I finally found the perfect (for me) canopy and was mostly sad when I retired that I wouldn't be flying it any more. I don't miss packing it back into the container at all. In fact, the last time I packed it, I threw my back out and realized that maybe it was time to stop. I had done everything I ever hoped to accomplish in the skydiving world, and although there are plenty of seventy-year-olds still going strong, I decided it was time for me to stop before I hurt myself.

I do still fly my parachute in my dreams, though. Now that I am a retired skydiver, those adventures still come to me unbidden at irregular intervals. Between belly laughs with my mother and zooming around in the sky under my parachute, my dreams give me plenty of enjoyment as I snuggle under the covers on cold winter nights. I do hope you will have some sweet dreams yourself.

With that,  I realize that I've accomplished it once again: I've written another blog post. This one happens to be #419. That's a lot of Sundays since I started this blog. I've enjoyed writing almost every one of them, since it gives me a chance to connect with some great people: my wonderful readers. My partner, sleeping next to me, hasn't stirred since I got up to make some tea and get my laptop. I hope he's having a wonderful dream, and I wish you many, many sweet dreams until we meet again next week.

Maintaining positivity

Leaf strewn path in the woods

I had an extra hour of sleep last night because of the time change. I figured I wouldn't be able to stay in bed until my usual time, but I didn't have any problem at all. How is it possible that just a number on a clock can make it likely that I can sleep longer? As usual, it was having to visit the bathroom that finally got me out of my warm cocoon of blankets. After making myself a cup of tea and getting my laptop for the usual Sunday morning writing exercise, I slipped back into the still-warm covers and cast about for the theme of today's post.

A poem of Emily Dickinson's kept going through my head all night long, so I looked it up this morning to see its entirety. The first stanza goes like this:

A loss of something ever felt I—
The first that I could recollect
Bereft I was—of what I knew not
Too young that any should suspect

One of the reasons that I have remembered that poem so much is that first line, where she puts the "I" in the most amazing place, and I have pondered that particular poem many, many times. She is telling (I think) of her first experience of attending a funeral. And now that first line emerges from the depths of my memories, and I think it speaks to me of the gradual loss of sight that I am going through today. Although I keep telling myself I'm reconciled to the AMD (age-related macular degeneration) that is affecting me, I know that I am living that first line: a loss of something ever felt I.

The vision loss is only just beginning, and it doesn't presently affect my ability to drive, read, or basically live my life. The right eye compensates for the missing vision in the left, and although I have "dry" AMD in both eyes, only the left is currently affecting my ability to see. I no longer drive much at night, and I avoid driving in heavy rain because of the glare, but otherwise I can see the oncoming cars and the road just fine. I've started wearing those dark sunglasses over my regular glasses and find that it does help my eyes feel more rested.

That said, I realize that much of my sense of loss comes from the anticipation of greater vision loss, which I know is coming, but it isn't here now. Why do I do that? Why do any of us project our fears into the future and worry about it in the present? It is counterproductive and eats away at my inner peace and contentment. Yesterday I was talking with one of my neighbors about my eyes, and she told me how she and her daughters coped with a particularly difficult period in their lives. Her first husband was unable to find steady work and they ended up moving from place to place every few months. She and her two daughters made a game out of it, and she looks back at that time and realizes that they were happy, in spite of all the chaos of their lives. Her attitude made all the difference.

Just for fun, I researched the question "should you pretend to be happy?" on the internet, and the first thing that came up was an article by Harriet Lerner in which she says this:

Sometimes I encourage my clients to engage in creative acts of pretending, not to run from the truth, but rather to discover new truths. Pretending joy or happiness can be a self-fulfilling prophecy, helping us discover or enhance our capacity for these positive feelings.

It reminds me of what my neighbor said: she and her daughters maintained their joy in life during difficult circumstances by encouraging each other to be happy and finding merriment in their predicament. That was a long time ago, and now my neighbor takes great pleasure in her two grandsons. Watching them play together makes me realize that she incorporated delight into herself, and it never seems to leave. She is a pleasure to be around.

I also know that there are many ways to find happiness in even dire circumstances, because I read about examples of this all the time. You would think that I would have perfected the ability to experience loss by now, but of course I haven't. The one thing I do know is that loss is inevitable, but sometimes the loss is not real. Instead, it's a feeling projected from the current moment into an uncertain future.

I'm going to practice Harriet's suggestion of pretending that I'm feeling just fine and see if it makes it any easier to deal with my vision loss. Suddenly I realize that I'm obsessing over it, and that means I'm neglecting the other aspects of my wonderful life that make me happy. Yesterday, SG and I had a disagreement that ended up with both of us talking it out and learning more about how to avoid such problems in the future. When we are at odds, I am really unhappy, as is he, so it's worth it to find a way forward. We always do, because we are both willing to be honest with each other. And with ourselves. I am very fortunate to have found this person to spend my life with. He's sleeping quietly next to me right now, undisturbed by the tapping of the keys on my laptop.

The wind is blowing quite hard outside. I can hear it whistling through some nearby gap, making me aware that it's pretty awful out there right now. We had another round of snow last night, and between the wind and the cold, it is not very inviting, thinking about going outside. But I'll get up and go anyway, because the coffee shop has become my place of conversation and camaraderie. Plus I've arranged to go to the movies with my friend Judy at 10:00am, so I'll just hang out at the coffee shop until it's time to walk to the movie theater. We're going to see that new Christopher Robin movie, which has come to our local independent theater instead of the larger 16-theater conglomerate across town.

I have been a fan of A.A. Milne for a long time, and sometimes I think of Winnie the Pooh and Eeyore as old friends. It will be fun to find out how they came into being. The reviews are sort of middle of the road (some good, some not so good), so my expectations are not high. I'm sure I'll enjoy being with Judy and maybe I'll even treat myself to some popcorn! I'm making good progress on losing those extra pounds and maybe I'll begin to stop being quite so rigid with my food intake. I say that, but then I realize I have allowed myself a bit of chocolate almost every day!

Even though it's not exactly pleasant to think about getting out of this warm bed, I'm going to do it anyway, and start my day thinking happy thoughts and even letting a smile visit my face. I'm going to think about you, my dear readers, doing the same, and in my mind's eye I'm showering you with love and light. Can you feel it yet? I'll keep it up until you do. Be well until we meet again next week.