I stepped from Plank to Plank
A slow and cautious way
The Stars about my Head I felt
About my feet the Sea.

I knew not but the next
Would be my final inch -
This gave me that precarious Gait
Some call Experience.

Emily Dickinson, c. 1864

Sunday, January 7, 2024

First Sunday of the new year

"Safe Return" statue at Zuanich Point Park

 My first Saturday walk of the new year was to the harbor, and I ended up going by myself. My two regular guys were otherwise occupied, and John didn't even show up for coffee. Don showed up with his wife Jane, and when he learned that Steve wasn't coming, he offered to change his plans in order to join me for the walk. I declined and really delighted in my solo walk. I was forced to find my own way to 5+ miles on a fine January day. It wasn't hard, and I did enjoy myself as the skies cleared and it warmed all the way up to 40°F. 

I have always admired that statue, and I learned it was first installed on Memorial Day 1999 at Zuanich Point Park to commemorate local fishermen who had died or been lost at sea.

The 16-foot statue is topped by a bronze fisherman casting a line, and the names are carved below on the 19-ton block of red granite. In total, it weighs 38,000 pounds and includes relief panels depicting various fishing industry scenes. (Cascadia Daily News)

 As I walked, I saw lots of people out with their dogs, or couples on brisk walks together, as well as the occasional solo walker like myself. It was a lovely day to be out in the fresh, rather brisk, air. We've got some cold weather coming soon, within a day or two, but you would never have known, if you didn't look at the weather forecasts. Tonight we might have some snow flurries, the first of the season. Or not.

Okay, now onto the main subject I intend to write about today. You have heard it before, and you'll probably hear it again before these posts end: growing older and wondering how and when I will finally come to my own personal end. Everything changes, everything grows older and eventually... stops. Even our solar system and our sun will grow old and die. Contrast that with our teeny-tiny little instances of existence and one realizes that it's important to cherish every moment. Here, in the current moment, I am alive and taking stock of what I learn as I read new books and watch educational programs and even as I watch the news of the day.

For the moment, I have a functioning brain and nervous system, I am able to enjoy however much food I desire, and every night I get between six and nine hours of restful sleep. I exercise (some might say to excess) and have a rich and varied social life, with good friends and a partner with whom I share my days. What's not to like?

And yet. As I move through the days, one is not very different from the one before, or the one to come tomorrow. But time appears to be still flowing on by, and we change from day to day in imperceptible ways. It's always a good idea to step back now and then and look around. I found this collage I put together more than a decade ago, and I was amazed at how much I have changed over the years.

Long ago and far away

Now I am an octogenarian, a state that none of those previous iterations of myself would have recognized. I could probably update that collage with some more recent photos, but I no longer have the software that helped me put it together. Plus I am really not all that interested in looking too closely at the current version of me.

Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time like dew on the tip of a leaf. —Rabindranath Tagore

If I were to die today, nobody would think it was a premature death. I've lived longer than both of my parents, and I never really expected to be so old one day, but here I am. And happy to still be active and able to do stuff that gives me pleasure, like a daily walk and a weekly hike, hanging out with my fellow octogenarian, and being an active participant at our local Senior Center. There was a time, long ago now, that I wouldn't have been happy to be surrounded by old people. Now I am one of them, and very glad to still be active and engaged in life.

That final act of our lives, that one where we are finally getting ready to move on to the next phase of existence, if there is one, is getting closer every day. I am curious as to how it might come about: illness (either sudden or chronic), accident (either sudden like a car wreck, or maybe something that makes me incapacitated but still around for awhile), or maybe even dementia, old age, or by my own hand. I can't think of any others, although it might be because I don't spend all that much time thinking about it. I do notice that other people around my age are dying and nobody remarks much about it, like it's a normal occurrence. That is probably one reason I'm thinking about it more often these days. Whatever. It's part of the human experience, nothing to be alarmed about. People have been being born, growing old, and dying ever since we got here. We didn't ask to be here, but here we are anyway.

There are different kinds of people, and I've noticed that optimism comes naturally to me, while others never seem to be happy and always find fault with life and other people. You know who I mean: pessimists. It takes all kinds, but I am sure glad to be someone who sees goodness all around me. Sometimes it takes a real effort to keep being optimistic if I allow myself to be sucked into darkness. But it's a choice I get to make, and I choose the light, and compassion, and happiness wherever I can find it.

Remember when we first entered into the new millennium, back in 2000? I worried about what would happen when Y2K finally came about, and whether I'd even make it through the next decade. Well, here we are now and a quarter-century has passed! (Almost, anyway. One more year.) During that time, I retired from my job of three decades, we moved to the Pacific Northwest, and I started the next phase of my life. I don't think I could have chosen a more perfect place to live, where we have moderate temperatures most of the time (not too hot, not too cold) and plenty of places to explore, with good friends I've made through the Senior Center. Oh, I almost forgot that we have plenty of rain, meaning I've learned all about rain gear and ways to stay mostly dry while out and about. Every day is an adventure, and I intend to keep on like this for as long as I can. Why not? Why not enjoy myself? Why not look for the silver lining behind that dark cloud?

I never even fathomed how life would change, how the internet would bring me a brand-new family of like-minded people whose lives I follow with interest. That would be YOU, dear friends. I follow several dozen different blogs, most of whom don't post all that often (thank goodness), but others who post daily and whose family members are also dear to me. Some of you have chronic illnesses, and I spend some time every morning after my meditation thinking about you and surrounding you with healing light and love. Some of it spills out and over me, too. 

Well, that about does it this morning. I will soon get up and do my daily exercises and meditation, and then John will pick me up and we'll head to Fairhaven for our Sunday breakfast. When I come home, I'll spend some time with SG, and then I'll read your blogs and find out what's going on in your lives, too. I might stream a movie to watch later today, but maybe not. I'm in the middle of a good book on my Kindle as well. So, life is good, and I wish that whatever you choose to do with your one precious life, it will bring you joy and happiness. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things.


13 comments:

Barbara Rogers said...

Thanks for your thoughts of end of life, and all we have to enjoy until then. I've started writing my last blog, which I send forward into further dates as time passes, so it has been in existence in draft for for years! Eventually it will post. Glad I keep editing it so it's not terribly cumbersome.

Marie Smith said...

Aging requires learning to enjoy now. Have a great day!

Rian said...

DJan, I think about it (dying) too... don't think it's unusual when you get to our age. It's just the thought that DH or I could die any day and no one would think it strange because of our age. It's not a scary thought, just odd. I like your collage. Maybe I will make one... but I agree that I'm also not too interested in looking at the current version of me. It used to bother me that when I look into the mirror, I don't recognize that old person. I guess I expected to look more like someone in my family... an aunt, a grandparent, although I never knew some of them. But we all need to find ways to enjoy the time we have left. Sharing some of these thoughts with friends is one of my ways... and I do consider you a dear friend.

Far Side of Fifty said...

One day at a time and make the best of each one:)

Linda Reeder said...

I second what Connie "Far Side" said.

Elephant's Child said...

I do look forward to these posts of yours. I am a little younger than you, but well aware that the time I have left is finite, and smaller than what has been. The next step doesn't scare me, but I do wonder how it will come about. And hope to go gently, leaving gentle memories as my epitaph.

Anvilcloud said...

It is rather shocking to see how far we are from Y2K. How did this happen? One as to wonder who of us will see 2025 and what shape we will be in if we do. But we're here today, and we have the moments that today brings, and life is lived in the moment.

John's Island said...

It sounds like your solo walk to the harbor was a refreshing and contemplative experience, providing a perfect backdrop for reflection on aging, life's cycles, and the beauty of the present moment. Your visit to the fishermen's memorial statue at Zuanich Point Park added a poignant touch, reminding us of the sacrifices and stories that shape our communities.

Your musings on aging are deeply resonant. The notion of embracing each stage of life with optimism, even as we acknowledge the inevitability of change and the finite nature of our existence, is powerful. Your perspective on the inexorable passage of time, contrasted with the small, daily joys and routines, offers a thoughtful reminder to appreciate the here and now.

The way you interweave personal anecdotes, like your transition into an octogenarian and your active lifestyle, with broader reflections on life and mortality is engaging and inspiring. Your choice to focus on optimism, compassion, and the pursuit of happiness, even amidst the awareness of life's impermanence, is a valuable lesson.

Lastly, your connection with the online community and the sense of extended family it provides adds a modern, relatable element to your narrative. It highlights how technology can foster connections and support, especially as we navigate the later stages of life.

Overall, your post is a beautifully written reminder to cherish every moment, to embrace the changes life brings, and to find joy and meaning in both the big adventures and the small, everyday experiences. Keep sharing your wisdom and insights; they are a beacon of light and positivity.

Red said...

Your glass is always full. It's the best way to live. You are happy and get to do many things that are very good for you. For most of my life, my predictions have been off somewhat so I will not predict my end. Enjoy that breakfast. w had breakfast at the Casino this morning. It's a weekly happening but we do not gamble.

Betsy said...

I read your blog every week but rarely comment, today I felt compelled to. You give me hope each week with your optimism. I'm somewhat younger than you are, (63), but have a heart condition that makes it difficult to exercise much as my pulse never goes above about 88 because of medications. Also arthritis in my feet is a pain, literally. So it's very difficult to walk much though I try to get my 10,000 steps in daily if I can.
You always encourage me with your bright expectation of each week and the joy that it will bring. We lived in Spokane for 30 years until moving back to Nebraska 2 1/2 years ago to care for my MIL with alzheimers. How I miss the beautiful northwest with it's mountains and lakes. So I really enjoy hearing your tales of walking around the city and reminescing about our trips to Seattle, Leavenworth and other places over the year. Such a gorgeous place to live.
Blessings and hugs on your week.
Betsy
http://betsy-thesimplelifeofaqueen.blogspot.com

gigi-hawaii said...

I am glad I read this post. Life right now is very difficult for me and David. I hope we can pull through this mess.

Linda Myers said...

I think about it too - especially in the winter when we live in a retirement community. I notice most days have a rhythm to them which I like. Some things move more slowly - like healing from a knee replacement. This morning I went down the four steps to my little place, on alternating legs, and very little discomfort. That's been happening very gradually, without much effort from me. I read old blog posts and realize my energy level has decreased some even though I'm healthy. So far, so good, I guess!

Tabor said...

I think about dying, but not in any depressing or exploratory way. I do pause with every new illness or tweak in my body and wonder if it is the beginning of something more serious. Since my husband is in the early stages of dementia, I hope to be alive for much longer.