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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.