Our new normal

Me and massive tree

 Melanie took this picture of me a few years ago when we both went off to Maple Grove more than an hour's drive south of us. It's one of her favorite places and she's carefully getting me ready for our next venture to this magical place. It's around eight miles round trip, and as my back slowly loosens up and allows me to go farther on each outing, I am looking forward to it.

Yesterday the two of us walked about five miles on our usual Saturday outing, in sunshine and really cold temperatures, to start at least. We went to Whatcom Falls Park and enjoyed the time together, talking about many different issues going on in the world right now. As the omicron variant of Covid begins to lessen its grip on the country (and the rest of the world, too), we wonder when we will begin to feel more comfortable going to restaurants and movie theaters. Mel already dines out much more often than I do, but I still worry about any time I need to drop my mask when I'm in an indoor setting.

The world is a much different place today than it was two years ago when we first went into the pandemic. And it's not just here in the US, but pretty much everywhere else, too. Some people yearn for a return to normalcy, but I think they also want things to be the way they were before, and that's just not going to happen. Whatever else has changed, our relationship to other people will never be the same. I don't think I will ever again feel comfortable being in a crowded room filled with strangers. And the realization that I have not had a cold for two years is not nothing, because of wearing masks and staying socially distant from each other. That's a real benefit to our health, especially for old people like me. Because of being able to stream so many movies that I would otherwise have seen in theaters, I don't feel like I've missed much, other than the friendship I had with my friend Judy, which was based on going to movies and dinners together.

I am still meditating daily, and I actually have begun to look forward to that time spent following my breath. It has helped me cope with the strain of world news, and the tension we are all experiencing with people feeling like we should be done with the pandemic by now. I've stopped watching the news every night, because I just cannot allow myself to get so worked up when I listen to what's happening out there. People are making such terrible decisions, in my opinion, fighting with strangers on airplanes, having skirmishes with others over whether or not to wear masks, and even our friendly neighbors to the north are having out-of-control demonstrations.

I just finished an interesting book, written by Ruth Ozeki, an author whom I have enjoyed over the years. It all started because I just read her newest book, The Book of Form and Emptiness, which I am not sure I would recommend to the average reader. It's not only quite long but also on the upsetting side. From that NYT review:

Ozeki gives us a metaphor for our own very American consumption disorder, our love-hate relationship with the stuff we overproduce and can’t let go of.

As I often do, I went online to find out what else Ozeki has written. Years ago I read another book of hers that I enjoyed, but yesterday I downloaded onto my Kindle and read a curious book in which she writes about a practice I had never heard of.

Ruth Ozeki, a Zen Buddhist priest, sets herself the task of staring at her face in a mirror for three full, uninterrupted hours; her ruminations ripple out from personal and familial memories to wise and honest meditations on families and aging, race and the body. 

The short book is entitled "The Face: A Time Code" and is purported to be the first in a series of nonfiction books about the face. It was interesting to read about how she dealt with just staring at her face in the mirror for hours, and all that came up from the process. She is biracial, Japanese and Caucasian, and she delves into her ancestors on both sides of her family, as well as her relationship to people who wonder what exactly she is. Anyway, it got me to thinking about my own face and how I feel about it. Certainly I see my parents reflected there, and my grandparents as well, but mostly I just see myself as I've become in old age. Neither of my parents lived to be as old as I am today, so I don't know what they might have looked like at almost eighty. Daddy was only 62 when he died of a heart attack, and Mama made it to 69 and died from the same malady. Heart disease is rampant in my family, which is one reason why I feel a need to maintain a healthy weight and exercise regularly. But still, it's likely to be the way I die, as well.

Just being alive is a privilege I don't take for granted. The older I get, the more I realize that any day might be my last. All sorts of possible scenarios could be written about my last days, or I just might not only outlive my parents, but experience another decade of healthy life. Although it's not likely, it's possible. I suspect that during the coming decade, I'll need to learn to deal with diminishing mobility, sight, and declining mental abilities as well. None of that makes me thrilled to think of seeing ninety, but who knows? Growing older is a given, but the quality of one's life is not. I am heartened to know octogenarians who have continued to maintain the ability to hike long distances and continue as if time doesn't affect them like it does the rest of us. 

Today my friend John is picking me up in an hour's time to head off to what's become a tradition: Sunday breakfast in Fairhaven, sitting in the cab of his truck and enjoying a delicious breakfast together. It's very cold and foggy out there once again, and I'm happy I don't have to scrape the windshield today. Although it's good exercise, it's also not an activity I enjoy. By the time John's chariot arrives, it will be warm and cozy in there. By the time I get outdoors for a nice walk today, it should have warmed up considerably. I've sure enjoyed the sunshine we've been blessed with the last couple of days, even if they have started out with dense fog, it's burned off and warmed up, thanks to the sun. 

And since John will be here soon, I need to finish this up and do my morning exercises and get in that all-important time sitting and following my breath. I recommend it highly for helping one to cope with the trials we all experience every day. I do hope that you will have a lovely Valentine's Day tomorrow (that's when our rain returns) and that you give someone or something a hug to celebrate the day. If there's nobody around, there's always a good self-hug and you might even stare at your reflection in the mirror and say thank you for another day of loving and living. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things.