The evening of life

Red rainbow by Rita Eberle-Wessner

One of my favorite artists is Rita Eberle-Wessner, and I snagged this wonderful picture of hers from her Flickr site. She lives in Belgium and I am impressed with her ability to capture nature incredibly well. Of course, it helps that she uses a professional Canon Mark IV for many of these beauties. I looked it up to see how much it costs and realized it is not for me! I'll stick to my iPhone camera and snag hers for my own enjoyment. And yours, too, in this case.

This morning I'm looking back at my long life, and how many times I've completely changed everything in it, becoming an old woman very gradually but inexorably. I caught a glimpse of myself yesterday and was shocked by how deep the wrinkles around my mouth have gotten. I feel like the same person throughout my life, but the journey from a child to a young adult feels like ancient history. Even becoming a retired person feels like a long time ago; it's been thirteen years.

When I see the age of people I admire, I realize that many times these people were born what seems like not long ago to me, but they are now adults and making a mark on the world. Chadwick Boseman was only 43 when he died, but he had already become famous for his incredible acting ability. I just watched his role in Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, his last movie, and I was so moved by his performance that I cannot forget that last scene. We are all diminished by his passing, but we will have his legacy of films to celebrate for a long time to come.

I'm in the process of seeing all the Oscar-nominated films, as is my habit, although this time it is from the comfort of my living room, and without my movie-going partner, Judy, while we are in the midst of a viral pandemic. This coming Tuesday I will get my second shot; SG had his second one last Friday, and hopefully after a few more weeks, I'll be as protected against the virus as I can be. Our post-pandemic life will look different across the world, but from here, the beginning of spring (or autumn in the Southern Hemisphere), it looks like we still have a ways to go. Canada just announced another month of border closure, making it well into the second year without the ability to travel across the border from the US. I'm a long way from considering travel, but one day we will be able to do so safely. Not today, though.

Today, I am pondering what it means to grow old. I've been given the gift of life for many decades now, and as I emerge from the decade of my seventies and tentatively place a toe into that of my eighties, I wonder why in the world people continue to live and in some cases thrive for so long. Anyone who loves his or her pets knows that they will not outlive us: their shorter life spans means they will leave us and we will grieve their loss. It doesn't mean we won't continue to love and enjoy them, just that we know what it means in the time ahead. 

A human being would certainly not grow to be seventy or eighty years old if this longevity had no meaning for the species. The afternoon of human life must also have a significance of its own and cannot be merely a pitiful appendage to life's morning. —Carl Jung

I found this intriguing quote from one of my favorite authors. When I was younger, I studied Jung's work and read many of his most famous books. He was a Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst well known in the middle of the twentieth century. He died in 1961 at the age of 85. I think he was a man ahead of his time, and he came up with several concepts that have become mainstream. Read more about Carl Jung on his Wikipedia site here. 

I wonder what he would think of the internet and how connected we have all become to our smartphones and social media in general. It all happened after he died, but he seemed to know what was coming, writing extensively about the collective unconscious:

As modern humans go through their process of individuation, moving out of the collective unconscious into mature selves, they establish a persona—which can be understood simply as that small portion of the collective psyche which they embody, perform, and identify with. The collective unconscious exerts overwhelming influence on the minds of individuals. These effects of course vary widely, however, since they involve virtually every emotion and situation. At times, the collective unconscious can terrify, but it can also heal.

Well, to be fair, Jung wrote about everything in massive volumes of work, as well as giving lectures throughout the world. He was tremendously prolific, and continues to be very relevant in today's world. And I really wonder what he would think of these new collections of humans in the virtual world, such as this blog, with so many of my dear friends whom I will never sit down in a room with, but who are as important to me as any of the rest of my family. Our world has changed significantly with the advent of this new connectivity.

For me, my laptop and its ability to let me know what is happening in the entire world almost instantaneously has become essential and rather routine. Here I am sitting in my bed with the laptop, writing a post that will soon be published to anyone who wishes to read it, anywhere in the world, along with thousands of others that are being created as I write, by others like me, many of whom are also old. We bring our wisdom and beliefs into the blogosphere to share and amplify. There are people who, I'm told, look forward to this missive every Sunday as a way to regulate their Sundays into a regular routine.

Although I am looking at the sunset of my life, it is also at the beginning of a new day, and a new season. We have made it through another winter and I so look forward to the enjoyment of spring flowers, green plants shooting up out of the ground as if they were impatiently waiting for the sun to awaken them. My goodness, I have so many ways to feel joy and love that I can barely count them all. And not least in that list is feeling grateful for the physical body that carries me through all my days. Even though it's true that age has brought me aches and pains that will only increase as I age further, I cannot deny that I welcome them, listen to them, as they help me decide what I might be able to accomplish today, this first full day of spring.

Of course, the first task is almost finished: writing this post. Then, it will be time to leap out of bed (figuratively, that is) and get on with the rest of my day. That always starts the same way: washing up, dressing, brushing my teeth, and going out onto the front porch to do my exercises. And then it's off in my car to the coffee shop, where John will already be drinking coffee in his truck, waiting for me. 

One day we will once again be able to gather around the table inside, but not today, not yet. We'll be wearing our masks out in public, but since John is part of my "bubble," we'll take them off while we drink our coffee. If we get out of the cab, we'll put them back on again. I feel very fortunate that my entire town seems to be cognizant of the need for protection from the virus, even as other places are apparently ignoring the pandemic. I hope they will stay safe and not infect others on purpose.

And with that, my dear virtual family, I will leave you to enjoy your day, with lots of hopeful wishes for happiness as we move through yet another moment on this beautiful planet, with love and joy surrounding us everywhere. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things.

Hodgepodge post

Buds are out

Yesterday I went out on a very nice five-mile walk with my friend Melanie, with lots of sunshine and a few wispy clouds, but oh how the signs of spring are everywhere! Even these fruit trees are beginning to be laden with blossoms, after a few days of sun and spring just around the corner. Today is Pi Day, March 14, with the first day of spring coming in five days: March 20 at 2:37am (here in the Pacific time zone). Oh, and then there's St. Patrick's Day next Wednesday!

What is Pi Day, you ask? Here's a fun fact about the date:

Pi denotes the relationship between a circle’s circumference and its diameter and is denoted by the fraction 22/7 which calculates approximately to 3.14. One of the most widely recognized mathematical constant, π, is an irrational number, the digits of which repeat in a random fashion and are never ending.

 Some people, those who write their dates with the day first, such as 22 July, celebrate Pi Day in the middle of summer (22/7). I guess for some people this is even more common, but I didn't know any of that when I began to look it up for this post. I've always heard that Pi Day falls in March, and it's an excuse to celebrate by eating some pie.

And I just learned that this morning, those who live in Chicago woke up to the traditional dyeing green of the Chicago River, as a surprise move for the city. Because of the pandemic, it was thought the tradition would be skipped this year, but the mayor sent out a tweet: "Although we didn’t gather, we were able to honor long-standing tradition by dyeing the Chicago River green, thanks to the Chicago Journeymen Plumbers." How we love to celebrate annual traditions! It was canceled last year because of the pandemic, so it's lovely to see another semblance of normalcy returning. If having a green river is normal, that is. Why green? Wikipedia tells me this:

The day commemorates Saint Patrick and the arrival of Christianity in Ireland, and celebrates the heritage and culture of the Irish in general. Celebrations generally involve public parades and festivals, céilís, and the wearing of green attire or shamrocks.

 So, we have plenty of reasons to celebrate right now, it seems. That, and the passage of a huge stimulus bill in Congress, which will soon cause some extra money to show up in my bank account. I just checked: it's not there yet, but I did see on the news that some people have already received it, although the bill was just passed and signed into law on Thursday. More green that we can all appreciate.

Since there is no real focus for this post, I figure I can write about anything I want, and hope that in the end it will make for some interesting reading. Usually when Sunday morning comes around, I've got an idea of what I will say, but that's just not true today, so I decided to go with the flow. Hodgepodge (a confused mixture) gives me a bit of leeway to let the words take me where they will.

I'm in the process of trying to watch all the movies that are likely to be nominated for an Oscar, even though it's not in a movie theater with my friend Judy like usual. Yesterday I watched Da 5 Bloods, a Spike Lee creation that has gained plenty of Oscar buzz. The main reason why, I think, is the incredible performance of Delroy Lindo, who plays Paul, one of the four Vietnam vets who return to Vietnam to find the remains of their fallen leader, and to find the gold bars they discovered and buried. I couldn't quite place where I'd seen Lindo before, but then I realized he plays a character in The Good Fight, which I very much enjoyed. But he's nothing like that guy in this movie. If you can deal with the violence of war (and greed), I recommend this movie wholeheartedly. It is, so far, the most impactful one I've seen, and Spike Lee has outdone himself.

Spike Lee’s new joint is an anguished, funny, violent argument with and about American history, with an unforgettable performance from Delroy Lindo at its heart. (A.O. Scott, NYT)

There are two more I'm looking forward to seeing, but both of them require me to pay an extra $20 rental fee to watch them: Minari and The Father. I will probably be required to pony up that extra cash in order to see them, and I might decide to wait until the Oscars are announced, which should be tomorrow, March 15.

So there's plenty to feel good about right now, as we move towards a new season in our world, and in our hearts. I think finally the pandemic is beginning to recede, but it's still very much present in the world, and we have every reason to keep wearing our masks, keeping our distance, and washing our hands. I will receive my second Covid vaccine shot on the 23rd, if all goes as planned, and two weeks after that I should be as safe as anyone else can be. It seems it will be awhile before we reach herd immunity here in the US, but it's on the horizon, at least, thanks to three wonderful and effective vaccines. I'm a Pfizer recipient, but I would have taken any one of the three in order to gain immunity from this awful virus.

And with that, this hodgepodge post has finally found its inevitable end. My tea is gone, dear partner still sleeping next to me, and a new day ahead, even if I did miss an hour of sleep last night. I'll make up for it tonight, though. I do hope you will find lots of reasons to celebrate this week, and until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things. Be well until then, dear friends.

Being brave

Golden Ears, Canadian mountains

I took this picture of these mountains right at sunrise a few years back, just at the right time to capture them in glorious color. I am looking across Bellingham Bay into Canada, and when I saw this, I stopped the car on my way to join the Saturday walk I did every single Saturday, for years. Until this past year, when the whole world changed with the pandemic.

 My life has certainly changed enormously since then. Now I still walk with one or two people on Saturday, because it's such an important part of my life, but I haven't been able to walk or hike with more than a few people for over a year now. I'm sure it's pretty much the same with everybody, but we are all hoping that as the Covid vaccine becomes available to us, we might be able to return to a semblance of normalcy. Whatever that means, post-pandemic. I have received the first of two doses of the Pfizer vaccine and by the end of the month, I should become fully vaccinated against the virus. So much of the world still has no access to the vaccines, so I suppose I should feel grateful.

It's a bit hard for me to maintain a positive attitude, because the political situation around the world is in such flux, and it seems like things are falling apart. Every morning I read the news on my laptop, and during the week I tune in to the PBS Newshour every evening. I despair about the military coup in Myanmar, with the soldiers killing innocent protesters with impunity, just because they can. A young 19-year-old woman was one of them, her life cut short because of her activism. She was aware of the danger and did it anyway. She had told her parents and friends what to do with her things if she died. And the next day, even more protesters filled the streets, defiant and fully aware of the risks.

This past year I have been unable to watch any of the movies I would normally have watched in my favorite theater with my friend Judy. She has a very immune compromised husband and has stayed pretty much indoors or close by her neighborhood in order to protect him. We have lost touch, although she did call me on my birthday and fill me in on her limited life. Maybe later this year we will be able to get back together. She's just one of the people I miss.

I've been trying to watch some of the streaming movies that were released during 2020 and are possible award winners. Yesterday I watched The Trial of the Chicago Seven on Netflix, which has been available online since last October, but I wasn't made aware of it until I watched the Golden Globes. It covers the time when those who were arrested during the riots that took place in Chicago where the Democratic National Convention of 1968 occurred. I remember those times, but I was a young woman who only peripherally paid attention to current events. 

I had forgotten how incredibly scary those times were, and how much our country suffered from the awful effects of graft and corruption at the highest levels in the city of Chicago. The movie reminded me that this is not the only time in our country's history when we almost lost our freedom to political dirty tricks. So many young protesters came to Chicago to march against the Vietnam War and demand that our government change direction. That movie might not have been the most uplifting way for me to spend my Saturday, but I'm so glad I did. For one thing, it tied the events in the world today with the bravery and dedication of those who protested in the name of something they believed in back then. Fifty years ago, I well remember how despairing I was of the direction of our country, after the assassination of Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy.

There is no shortage of brave and courageous young people in today's world. I see it every day on the news, and I see it also in the actions of many who are working to make the world a better place, even during this pandemic. Now that I am old and have seen much during my decades of life, I can reflect on how we will get through this period, too, and perhaps we will be better for it. It is definitely a time that we will never forget, and we might even see it in later years as an inflection point, a time when the world changed in positive and uplifting ways.

There is a certain enthusiasm in liberty, that makes human nature rise above itself, in acts of bravery and heroism. —Alexander Hamilton

I am hopeful. It's a much better way to feel than despairing. There are moments when I look for the bravery that others exhibit to appear in my own self, and occasionally I am rewarded with the courage to look ahead with joy and hope in my heart. I am reminded how even someone like the Cowardly Lion was able to overcome his fears when he wanted to help Dorothy. Maybe that's why he came to me in a dream last week: to buoy up my own courage. The image from the movie of the Tin Man hanging onto his tail as they climbed the mountain that led into the castle where she was imprisoned, that image is uppermost in my mind as I begin to finish this post.

My dear partner still sleeps next to me, and I am ready to take on the new day, with love and hope in my heart. My tea is gone, and spring moves ever closer on the calendar, bringing lots of new growth to enjoy and admire. I do hope this coming week will bring you plenty of ways to appreciate your life and your loved ones. Until we meet again next week, be well, dear friends.

Over the rainbow

Emerging crocus

I saw this precious early sign of spring to come while out walking in my neighborhood. Not only the crocus, but all the budding green shoots filled my heart with happiness. We made it through yet another winter, this one especially hard because of the pandemic. Better times are ahead.

As I have heard many times lately, and I hope it's true, the most difficult part of the worldwide pandemic is behind us. Perhaps that's why a couple of nights ago I had the most wonderful dream, filled with light and laughter, and a character from my past: the cowardly lion from The Wizard of Oz. Why did he appear in my dream, and what is the message I took from him? I remembered his "roar," a little whiff that makes me smile just to think of it.

I decided to find the entire movie and watch it again. Unfortunately, it's not streaming on any of my current apps at the moment, so I ended up joining HBO Max in order to watch it at home. I had been contemplating signing up for it anyway, since several studios are releasing this year's movies on the video app. Although it will be awhile before I can see myself walking into my favorite movie theater, I'll now be able to see them all before the awards season starts in earnest.

My father used to tell the story of the time he took my sister Norma Jean and me to the theater to see the movie. We were so scared, he said, about the tornado at the beginning, and I suspect also the witch, we climbed under the seats and cried until he took us out of the theater. I remembered the transition from sepia to technicolor very well, especially the ruby slippers and how gorgeous they looked to my young eyes.

My adult self watched the entire movie and took away so much that I had forgotten. Yes, I've seen it several times over the years, but yesterday it was a completely new story for me, with all the characters bringing up various emotions. And questions that never occurred to me before were: what happened to Dorothy's parents? Was she dreaming the entire story or did she actually go to Oz? Suffice it to say, I loved it when I re-watched it considering our current worldwide woes, and it gave me a bit of hope for the future. And I once again realized that the movie is truly a masterpiece.

I'm curious as to why the Cowardly Lion was so present in my dream, and I wonder what he personifies in my life today. Bert Lahr's performance was wonderful, and I laughed at his antics once again ("put 'em up, put 'em up"), at his comical tears and smiled at his willingness to work through his cowardice to stand up for Dorothy. There was also much more humor in the movie than I remembered from previous viewings.

I didn't realize until reading about the movie, how it was filmed and all the actors who were considered for the various parts, that it was based on a book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, written by Frank Baum in May 1900. It's been reissued many times since, and perhaps it would be useful to find a copy and read it today. Perhaps I'd find out what happened to her parents.

Obviously, a movie made in 1939 no longer has anybody still alive who was part of the phenomenon that it became. We are left with a delightful artifact from that period in history, and I know I will want to watch it at least once more before I myself head over the rainbow. To me, that is what the rainbow represents: leaving the world of the living and heading off to where the bluebirds fly.

Someday I'll wish upon a star

Wake up where the clouds are far behind me

Where trouble melts like lemon drops

High above the chimney top that's where you'll find me

Oh, somewhere over the rainbow way up high 

Today I might spend some time looking at my new HBO Max app and maybe even settle in for a nice revisit of another movie that I remember from long ago, or even a new one. If the weather cooperates, I might even head out for a nice walk and see if those crocus flowers are still there two days later. At this time of the year, our environment changes in the blink of an eye. Yesterday, when I was walking with my friend Melanie, we saw some daffodils just ready to bloom, and on the way back an hour later, some had already opened in the full sunshine.

And what, my dear online friends, will you do with this wonderful irreplaceable day that we have ahead? I know some of you will already have experienced the day, since I'm over on the west coast of the US and many of you are even already into the next cycle. It always amazes me when I open my reader and see that it's already the next day over in Australia. So, whatever part of the cycle you are in, I hope it's a good one, and that you will spend at least part of it with your loved companions.

My tea is gone, my dear partner still sleeps next to me, and I am now ready to start the rest of my Sunday. By the time I visit with you again next week, I hope I will have received the first of two vaccine shots. It's been tough getting an appointment, and I won't actually believe it until it's behind me, but I think this will be the week when it happens. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things, dear friends.

Skydiving boogies

Formation built at a boogie

During my three decades as an active skydiver, I would often go off to "boogies," gatherings of skydivers from all over the world, usually ten days long, with aircraft of every sort to jump from. Although I was going to write about hiking today, last night in my dreams I spent much of the night creating many outlandish skydives, and I woke this morning with a smile on my face. What fun we had, both in real life and in those dreams.

That picture was taken on Christmas Eve 2002, on an organized load with both me and SG in it. I'm on the far left in purple, and you can see his white jumpsuit behind me. Between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, I made ten skydives, and on this one we had a photographer who captured this great picture. (Michael McGowan has made money for decades taking pictures like this one on organized skydives at Skydive Arizona.)

The reason I can give you all these details is because skydivers usually keep a journal of their dives, so they can be remembered. When you make ten in two days, it's easy to forget all the essentials. I'm not sure if this formation is called a Texas Star, but if not, it's similar. I rummaged through my stack of journals until I found the entry for this one. It's not very detailed, since I was more than a little tired at the end of each day, but I needed to put something in there before I lost the thread of my wonderful two days. It was almost two decades ago now, and I cannot imagine doing such a marathon session of skydives today! Or jumping out of an airplane at all, for that matter. My last skydive was in 2015, and then I sold my gear so that I would not be tempted to keep going when I knew it was time to quit.

For years, I worked on my skydiving skills, and I was an instructor for many of them, which helped me rack up the numbers. As many of my longtime readers might recall, I made more than 4,000 altogether, with one year making over 400, at the height of my passion. I never had a weekend when I wasn't working or playing in the sky. I was able to afford it all because I made money as an instructor and then spent it at boogies, so that I wouldn't need to pay taxes on that income. I also spent time in the occasional wind tunnel. This was taken at the wind tunnel in Orlando, during a five-day-long training session.

I was #A2, it seems

Time spent in wind tunnels did not count towards the hours I amassed in skydives, but it sure helped me learn better how to use my body in flight. (USPA gives awards for every 12 hour of freefall.) Looking at these pictures now, I am more than a little impressed that I was so dedicated. However, that was then, and times change and we grow older with every passing day. I sure had a wonderful career as a skydiver and love to look back at those days.

Every once in awhile I'll have a dream that takes me back to the thrill of a boogie, and that is what happened last night. I emerged from sleep up after having found five other women to make a special skydive with, and even though I can't remember now how it turned out, it must have been good since I woke feeling so happy.

Yesterday I was able to get an appointment for a Covid shot for both me and SG, thanks to my friend John, who called me as soon as he heard about this nearby pharmacy that was scheduling appointments. They were going fast, as you had to fill out a form that took awhile, and although we are now scheduled for shots a day apart, hopefully they will happen. I had an appointment through another place but it was canceled due to a shortage of vaccines caused by the terrible weather across the country. Our current ones are scheduled for the first week in March, and hopefully by then the vaccines will be available again. I almost didn't mention our luck in getting these appointments, thinking I might jinx it. 

I can't help but think that we are past the major shortages and that the vaccine supply will soon become more plentiful, but there really is no way to know for sure. Frankly, trying to score those appointments gave me as much stress and anxiety as I used to feel getting ready to make a skydive! Times sure do change, don't they?

Although I don't skydive any more, I am still a member of USPA (US Parachute Association) and receive the monthly magazine. There was a time that I would read it from cover to cover as soon as it arrived, but now I make a cursory pass through, mostly looking for people I used to know. Unfortunately, I also see how many of my old friends are no longer alive, either from an accident or, most often these days, passing away from natural causes. 

It is a constant reminder to me to cherish every single day of my life. Although I no longer jump out of perfectly good airplanes for fun, I have a universe of memories and dear friends I will never forget. I met SG through skydiving, so you can see how much it changed my life for good. We are able to make comments to each other that no one else would understand. Why I cannot remember any of them as I write is partly because I am now forgetting things more often. Not a good thing for a skydiver to realize. But I am still able to hike, walk with friends for long distances, and enjoy my yoga classes on Zoom. It is important to remember and cherish these times, too, because as life moves on, our abilities change as well.

The more time passes in your life, I think the greater you understand perspective. So I'm happy that I've had experiences that have reminded me that most exciting things might not feel so exciting later, and the most disappointing things might not be so disappointing later, either. —K. Flay

Well, it's getting to be the time for me to reluctantly put my old skydiving journals back on the shelf and start preparing for the rest of my Sunday. I have finished my tea, and my dear partner snores gently next to me. I still have a few little snippets of memory of last night's dreams to enjoy, but turning to the present moment and what I might be able to accomplish today seems more important. I do hope that you, my dear reader, will be well and find some joy to share with others in the coming week. I wish the same for myself. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things.

Let's talk about love

Mama and me

 I of course have no conscious memory of this time in my life, when I was an infant surrounded and embraced by my mother's love. But I still carry within my heart the effect of that love, because although now I am old and Mama is gone, love endures forever.

Growing up, I was not conscious of the importance of being loved and cherished, but a person is harmed when they don't receive it. Instead of being deprived of love, I was the center of the universe. I am sure that I was a tyrant, for the first years of my life, since I didn't have to share that love with anybody else. Then my sister was born, and I actually had to begin to learn that reality meant sharing, and even beginning to expand my horizons to include loving my sister. Now I cannot imagine my world without her. 

Love doesn't have to spread itself thin when one loves more people; it grows and expands. My heart fills with love when I think of those who are part of my life. In fact, when I started to think about writing a post about love,  I could feel myself relax and smile inside, and it reminded me of the healing power of love, both given and received. Love is a medicine cabinet all by itself.

I watched the past week of the impeachment trial on TV, not completely, but with the sound off and listening when something would appear of interest to me. It was a hard thing to watch those videos of what actually happened inside our Capitol on January 6th, but it was (in my view) important to chronicle the entire event and hope that we can keep it from ever happening again, no matter the outcome of the trial. I felt real love and admiration for so many heroes of that day, and was surprised and impressed with the skill that the impeachment managers displayed in producing a coherent timeline. But I'm glad it's over and hopefully we can begin to look forward instead of backward. President Biden is certainly making some good choices, in my opinion, and once we get that new stimulus package into the hands of the American people, I believe we will be in much better shape.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. —Martin Luther King, Jr.

It's interesting to me that we have created a day out of our calendar that is dedicated to love: today.  February 14th is St. Valentine's Day, which celebrates a Roman Catholic saint, but there is more to the story.

The medieval English poet Geoffrey Chaucer often took liberties with history, placing his poetic characters into fictitious historical contexts that he represented as real. No record exists of romantic celebrations on Valentine’s Day prior to a poem Chaucer wrote around 1375. He links a tradition of courtly love with the celebration of St. Valentine’s feast day—an association that didn’t exist until after his poem received widespread attention. The poem refers to February 14 as the day birds (and humans) come together to find a mate. (from History)

 Well, I'm glad we don't have a day dedicated to hate! Just as I feel such healing powers when I think about love, I feel just the opposite when I experience hatred, for anything or anybody. It's the feeling that fills my heart with awfulness and causes my blood pressure to rise. I try very hard to stay with love, or at least acceptance, for everything and everybody as they are, not as I'd like them to be.

I am still trying very hard to get the vaccine so that I can be protected from the coronavirus, but there is such a shortage in our county that I'm letting it go and hoping that I can stay safe until such time as there is no problem receiving the jab(s). My doctor says that they will let me know when I can schedule a shot, and I keep checking the sources I have, but so far, no luck. In our county, they are giving the vaccine to those with underlying conditions and those at least 87 years old. I'm not there yet. 

We had a snowstorm here yesterday, and I didn't get out for my usual walk, so today I am hoping that I'll be able to bundle up and get outdoors. My friend John picked me up in his heavy-duty truck yesterday to take me to the coffee shop, and he will do the same again today. It's nice to know I don't have to try to drive on slippery and snowy streets. I do appreciate having his help, and that he is willing. I could of course make coffee here, but I need to get outside, even if I cannot do much quite yet. And I enjoy his company.

My morning routine is almost always to head to the coffee shop after getting out of bed, but Sundays require some time spent writing this post, first thing. My tea is now gone, and my dear partner is still sleeping next to me, and I can feel that it's getting to be time to move into the rest of my day. I am thinking about you, my dear friends, and hoping that you will find some way to appreciate and love those in your own circle, both present and past, and have some chocolate, too! I know I will. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Telling the truth

Lake Padden

I spent a bit of time looking for a picture to put on this post, since I had already decided I wanted to write about truth in the world we live in today, and nothing quite fit. This picture, taken during one of my countless trips around Lake Padden was as good as anything else. Why write about truth? Isn't it something we all know?

Apparently not. I have been pondering about whether we are living in a "post-truth" world, and last night I watched The Divided States of America on CNN, which only made me wonder even more what is happening in the world around me. The special program about what is pulling us apart, and more than anything, it seems to be that we are having a harder and harder time figuring out what is true and what is false. Is this partly because of the incredible number of sources we now have available to us to learn about the news of the day?

When I was young, we only had the three networks to choose from (ABC, CBS, and NBC) on TV, and I was not allowed to change the channel from Walter Cronkite when it was time for the news. As an adult, I remember watching him when Kennedy was assassinated, and he was like a trusted member of the family: no one would ever have doubted that he told us anything but the truth. 

As I pondered what angle to write about truth and lies, I did a little research. These days I have the incredible power of the internet, Wikipedia (which is now huge and 80 times larger than the Encyclopedia Britannica), and many fact-checking websites. I found an interesting article on Skeptic.com about why we are NOT living in a post-truth world. Here's a small excerpt from the article:

So we must safeguard the truth and rationality-promoting mission of universities precisely because we are not living in a post-truth era. Humans indeed are often irrational, but not always and everywhere. The rational angels of our nature can and must be encouraged by truth-promoting norms and institutions. Many are succeeding, despite what seems like a growth in reason inequality. 

 The CNN program showed the awful storming of our Capitol on January 6th and made me feel scared about the direction of the country. But during the final segment, Fareed Zakaria, the host, laid out a few possible ways to fix things, and I was pleased to hear his sense of optimism about the future. When he pointed out that as we grow more divided in our beliefs, we need to spend a little time standing in the shoes of those on the other side of the divide, and try to understand why someone would feel the way they do. He suggested a national call to service, much like the Peace Corps, but one that functions inside the country, rather than outside of it. People who live in San Francisco could volunteer to help in a rural farming community and see what life is like in another part of the country. That was one solution that appeals to me, although now that I am too old to even consider such service, I certainly hope that others will.

During my research, I also learned that one of the reasons we humans underestimated the pandemic so much is that we have difficulty understanding exponential growth. We think in very linear ways, rather than realizing how much things can change in the blink of an eye when change comes exponentially. One way to think about it is to envision a piece of paper that could be folded in half infinitely. How many times would you have to fold an 8x10 piece of paper in half to reach the moon? Well, I was more than a little surprised to learn that the number is: 45. What!? That is why we lost control of the pandemic's impact on our world: its exponential growth and our inability to realize its power.

Ah, yes: the pandemic. It has changed our world in so many ways, and I wonder whether we will ever return to a sense of normality. Of course, it's only been a year since we tried to quell the virus by shutting everything down. It's been almost a year since I was last able to attend classes at the Y, a year since our restaurants and coffee shops closed to everything except purchasing our items and leaving. No more hanging out, other than when the weather was nice and we could sit outside, socially distanced.

I have adapted to the new normal, but I really miss the social connections that have fallen away. I can no longer visit friends casually, and the last time I spent any quality time with my dear friends Lily and Hedi was in the summer when we could sit outside. Now it's February. My world is so much smaller, but I do make an effort to stay connected through texts and the occasional phone call. And of course I have a few friends whom I see every day, or almost every day. It makes me feel less isolated, and I do make a real effort to get my outdoor exercise daily.

Returning to the idea of telling the truth, I realize that I was taught that lies are easily identified, but that's simply not true. One of the problems I have these days is trying to figure out what the facts actually are. I am indebted to several websites that help me figure out that dilemma. Some that I use regularly are snopes.com and fivethirtyeight.com. Do you have others that help you figure out our social situation better? I hope you will share them.

It is a bit embarrassing to have been concerned with the human problem all one's life and find at the end that one has no more to offer by way of advice than 'try to be a little kinder.' —Aldous Huxley

 My ability to write by the seat of my pants (figuratively) on my blog has also become a lifeline through the virtual community that has been created here. I look forward to hearing from my commenters, who actually feel as much like family as, well, family does. My dear partner still sleeps while I write here, and I am trying to find a way to extricate myself from what has turned out to be a bit of a slog. I keep trying to find different ways to express myself, and sometimes it works better than others. I might have to return to this subject later on.

Until then, and until we meet again, I do hope you will have a wonderful and meaningful time in your life. Life is so unpredictable, but one thing that seems to have become an immovable object is sitting down on a Sunday morning and pressing these keys until it's time to stop. That would be about now, dear friends. Don't forget to count your blessings and give yourself a pat on the back for being a truth teller.

P.S. I just read today's cartoons, and this one is perfect for today's post (click to enlarge):