Another week just flew by

Me, Mt Shuksan, and bird

I'm finding it almost impossible to believe that yet another week has gone by, and here I am once again trying to decide what to write about. I found this picture among my collection, and I thought it's worth another view. I was on a snowshoe trip in the High Country one February day a few years ago, when we were inundated with these camp robber birds, also known as gray jays, who were trying to eat our lunch before we had a chance to ourselves. I had some trail mix in my hand, and the bird confidently landed on my fingers and chose a couple of almonds (if I remember correctly) before flying off again. I remember the strength of his talons; he wasn't going anywhere until he got his treat.

I've been taking winter trips to this area for many years. This was one particularly beautiful sunny day with no wind, and we enjoyed ourselves before heading back down. I was at least as happy to be there as the bird was. I had to return to sea level, but the jay was in his element. One time years ago, I remember one of our hikers lost an entire half of his sandwich to a hungry bird! If you were so careless as to put it aside while you took a sip of water, for example, you might turn back to see that you had indeed been robbed.

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. —Albert Einstein

I have spent much of my life in the presence of natural beauty. When I was a girl, moving around from place to place with my family, I didn't much appreciate my surroundings. I was living my extroverted life, making lots of friends everywhere, and believing in the tight-knit family nade up of my parents, my sister Norma Jean, and then my sister PJ, born when I was seven. I never doubted my place in the world, and as I grew older and began to experience the enjoyment of physical exercise, I learned to dance and became a high school cheerleader, my first real foray into pushing myself to do hard tasks that didn't come easily. I rode my bike all around our neighborhoods, and spent more time outdoors than inside. 

It's really different for kids today, who spend so much time in their heads and not playing like we did as kids. We used our imaginations as we played together, Statue, Hide and Seek, Hopscotch, the game of jacks, and Norma Jean and I played with our dolls together a lot in Mama's flower garden. We also read books to one another and sometimes, for fun, we would pull out the dictionary and pick out words to learn. But the main thing is that we were very comfortable being outdoors in all kinds of weather.

These days, because of technology, so much has changed. That, and the fear of children being abducted or accosted by weirdos. Now many kids don't walk to school, even if they live close by, and if they ride bikes to school, they don't go alone very often. And just like their parents, they usually have smartphones in their hands, unaware of their surroundings. They live their lives in what feels like a different universe from the one I had while growing up. I wonder what the children of today will experience with their own kids one day. 

What I was looking for in those last few paragraphs is trying to find out when I began to spend so much time outdoors. It seems I always did. Do the parents of today's kids still tell them to "go outside and play" like I heard all the time? Or do they just sit somewhere inside or close by and play on their phones? Hard for me to say, since I don't spend much time with little ones any more. My young friend I met at the coffee shop years ago, Leo, grew up, and I haven't seen him in years. He and I spent many hours at the coffee shop playing together, but now he's a teenager and nowhere to be found in my own daily life. I miss those days.

This past week I went on two different hikes with the Senior Trailblazers, and on the other days I walked from Cornwall Park home, covering a few miles each day. There are only a few days when I don't get outdoors and enjoy the greenery all around me. And I don't take it for granted; my life would be very much less enjoyable if I didn't have the ability to walk around outdoors. That may come one day, but it's not today.

We lost an hour of sleep last night because of the time change. When I woke this morning, not feeling quite rested, I knew I wouldn't have as much time as usual to write this post, and sure enough, the minutes are slipping by and I still hadn't decided exactly what to write about. I always like to think of something positive and uplifting, since that's what I need for myself to begin my day. I think today's positivity comes from realizing that I am a happy octogenarian on the brink of true old age, but still mentally feeling like the youngster I once was. There's still a spring in my step, even if the feet are now a little arthritic. Where did that bunion come from? I'll just put on a bunion guard and pull my socks over it and keep on going. One day I might need to use a cane to walk, but I will still go outdoors and feel the wind in my thinning hair and raise my face to the morning sun. Or rain, whatever, and be grateful for the many years of time I've had to become who I am today.

There are so many things for me to be grateful for, but one that I haven't mentioned in awhile is you, my dear virtual friends. I look forward every week to reading your blog posts and finding out what you are doing in your own part of the world. From my many Canadian friends to those on the other side of our beautiful planet, I am so very grateful for the technology that allows me to connect with you like this. The world has changed, it's true, but some things never change: the need to connect with like-minded people, however we do it these days, will always be an integral part of my life.

At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us. —Albert Schweitzer

Yes, dear friends, that is what this post is about: keeping our own lights shining brightly for as long as we have breath, and helping our fellow travelers find their own light when the need arises. So, until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things. Be well.