Palm Sunday

Snagged from the Internet

Today is a big day in the Christian calendar, Palm Sunday, the beginning of what is known as Holy Week. It marks the day when Jesus rode into Jerusalem and, as we all know, it ends next Sunday when Christians mark the day of Easter. I am just one of many who would carry palm fronds to church to mark the day and listen to the sermon admonishing us to be better Christians. I still feel quite nostalgic when I think of all those years I attended church and tried to be a good congregant. Today if I go to any church at all, it's a nondenominational one that doesn't follow the liturgical calendar.

Next Sunday, Easter is a day for kids to color eggs and hide them. I wonder how in the world it became a day filled with chocolate bunnies and hard-boiled eggs. Few even mark Palm Sunday, unless you're going to a Christian church that does such things. But maybe it's only because I no longer put myself into situations where attending church is something one does. It reminds me that just because you don't see a particular event, it doesn't mean it's not happening somewhere. I'll bet there are millions of palm fronds being waved in millions of churches around the world, and I am just simply no longer tuned in to it.

When I lived in Boulder, although even then I wasn't a churchgoer any more, during this week I would take five days out of my busy life to meditate and retreat from the world in a nearby convent with the sisters of St. Walburga. I wrote about the experience on this blog back in 2010, and if you're interested, here's the link.

It's been four years since I wrote that. I just reread it and realize that half a decade is not a trivial amount of time. The person who wrote that piece is still me; I'm just older now and deeper into my years of retirement. This time that I take on Sunday mornings, just me and my laptop (not to mention the entire world of the Internet if I choose) has been going on for hundreds of Sundays. I don't think I've missed any, and I just checked: I've written 283 posts on this blog, which I began in December 2009. Wondering what I said back then, I just reread my first post and realize that some of the comments were left by people who have been following me since I first discovered the world of blogging. My friend Connie who lives in Minnesota is there (Far Side of Fifty), having come over from my other blog.

Have I said everything I wanted to say? It doesn't seem so. I've made new friends and look forward to hearing what he or she will say in the comment section. I am not one of those who responds to every comment, but I do check out the blog of any new person and will begin to follow those who interest me. My world has become much more centered around the blogosphere, and it's hard for me to imagine how I would have fulfilled my need to write if I hadn't started down this path. Expressing myself, writing down my thoughts and feelings, is just part of who I am. Although I do get the occasional urge to create something more permanent, for some reason I am not drawn to becoming a published author. I guess it's because of all those books that were created for my boss during my working years; I learned that when something comes out in print, there is no going back. If I choose to change something on any of my previous posts, it's a quick little update and there you go, nothing is unchangeable. I really like that, having published books that required an errata sheet. As hard as I would work to make sure there were no errors, there were always some, and a few were egregious enough to require a written retraction. If I don't like something I wrote earlier, I can delete it or change it. What's not to like about that?

I'm taking a class next weekend, both Saturday and Sunday. Remember when I wrote about wanting to find out more about becoming involved in what it takes to become a Death Doula? Well, next weekend is a training class for wannabes. Some of what I'll learn about is (from the class description) "body preparation, vigil presencing, active listening, holding sacred space, how to integrate multiple traditions into a cohesive respectful offering, working with many options for burial presentations, and many hands on skills." That's a lot to take in during two eight-hour-long days. I'll probably write a bit about what I learned on Saturday when I'm sitting here next Sunday, which also happens to be Easter. I don't think it's a coincidence.

Years ago in Boulder I took a two-day training class to work as a Hospice volunteer. That training was intense but very valuable. It's been almost three decades since then. I spent the next two years spending time with the dying person while the primary caregiver took a break. After those two years, however, I couldn't do it any more. But I will always be grateful for the families and patients who shared their lives and their death process with me. Now I'm ready (I think) to take it up again, in a different way than I did before. This class will give me the opportunity to find out whether this is what I want to do or not. I'll also meet some new people who might become friends, who knows? In any event, it will be educational. I'm looking forward to it.

And here it is, another post written, my tea gone, my partner still sleeping beside me. One big difference is that it's no longer dark outside, but the sun is up and a light rain is falling. I'll be going to the movies with my friend Judy later on, but I'm feeling more centered now than when I first woke up, not knowing what would emerge from my mind today. I'm always a little uncertain: does the brain still work? Is there anything new to write about? And now it's time to start my day, everything having worked just like always. Oh, and make sure you take the time to share a smile with a friend today. The world will be a better place if you do. Until next Sunday, I wish you all good things.

Paying attention

Lily Lake last Thursday

When I turned seventy, I would wake in the mornings and smile that I'd made it into my eighth decade, feeling good, staying active, and spending my days in ways that make me happy. That included walking, hiking, working out with friends, and blogging. That was more than two years ago. My life is essentially the same today, but there's a subtle difference.

There's really something different about being 72. One of my blogging friends, Nancy, just turned (as she put it) six times twelve and wrote a really nice post about it. It got me to thinking about things, as we share our lives with one another in the blogging universe. I realized that when I wake up these days, how old I am emerges into my consciousness in the form of a number: 72. But then again, it's just a number. Am I any different today than I was two years ago? Or will be in another two years?

Age is a curious thing, and I don't want to discount it. Aren't I the same person who wakes up today who woke up yesterday? Since my seventieth birthday, I've written hundreds of posts in both my blogs and lived another 841 days. I've observed the changes of the seasons from my front window, as well as in the wilderness as I hike with my friends every Thursday. During the seven years that I've been trekking with the Senior Trailblazers, there are several of us who don't come any more, because of illness or infirmities. We are, after all, seniors with a median age around 67. When I look back at pictures of who was on our hikes two years ago, I miss seeing the faces of old friends whose knees or backs or ankles just can't take it any more. One day I will be one of them, and another who has just begun her adventures with the seniors will take my place. That's the natural order of things.

What I don't want to do is miss out because I wasn't paying attention. One of the things this blog is good for is giving me a chance to notice the differences that emerge between weeks. I spend this time on Sunday mornings thinking about my life, which I wouldn't be doing otherwise. Sometimes the words just pour out of me and a theme quickly takes shape. Other times, like today, there's quite a bit of stopping and starting, pondering just what it is that I'm trying to capture.

In the two weeks since my car accident, I notice that I pay attention to the cars around me in a whole different way. They are moving so fast, and I've got to stay vigilant and not allow something like that to happen again. But since my reaction times are slower than they once were, I notice that driving now makes me feel anxious. In time, I suspect that will diminish, but should it? We are encased in metal boxes that travel at incredible speeds, and we all must trust those around us to do their part in keeping us safe. I see people all the time who are busy talking on the phone or being distracted in other ways. Driving and traffic have become so much a part of our lives that we stop paying attention, until something happens to change it, like being involved in a collision like I was.

I am fortunate to have developed a very full life for myself during my retirement years. Upon leaving my career and home town of Boulder seven years ago, I was excited to find a new way to live. Staying active and fit became the central focus of my days, rather than revolving around the Monday to Friday routine of work. I like routine, so I have a schedule that makes me aware of the days of the week. A three-times-a-week class at 9:00am, my coffee shop buddies who are now almost like family, my Thursday hikes and Saturday walks, and my blogging schedule. Nobody imposes my schedule on me; it's what gives my days structure and it's what I choose to do.

However, there's that old nemesis of habit becoming so entrenched that sometimes I find myself doing something just because that's what I do. And before long a season has passed, another year has come and gone, and I haven't been paying attention. Contemplation about one's life can be a valuable tool to make sure that these days that seemingly stretch ahead into infinity are not missed. Every once in awhile I need to stop and look around and take stock of where I am and where I am going. And appreciate the moment.

Yesterday was the first full day of spring, and as I sit here with my laptop I can see that the sun has just come up, and now the days will be longer than the nights until we reach the summer solstice. I learned yesterday that on the equinox, the sun rises due east and sets due west all over the world, no matter where you are located. But those who are in the Southern Hemisphere will begin to experience shorter days and longer nights, just the opposite of my experience way up here near the 49th parallel north.

It's all a matter of perspective. I've finally come to the end of this post, one that was rather hard to give birth to, but now it's done, and I can continue the rest of today's activities. Sunday is the one day that I don't have a set routine. After this post is written, that is. In a couple of weeks I'll be attending a two-day class on Saturday and Sunday and will not have the luxury of taking an hour to write this post, but today it's been valuable for me, and I think I've stopped long enough to pay attention and smell the flowers.

Winter is gone, spring is here

Primroses for sale at the grocery store

Everywhere I look, I see signs of spring. And why not? The first day of spring is this Friday at 3:45pm here in the Northern Hemisphere. For those in the Southern Hemisphere, it will be the first day of autumn, but it's still the equinox. Also, there will be a total lunar eclipse on Friday. Check out the details here for more about where it will be visible. We won't see it in the United States at all.

And Tuesday is St. Patrick's Day, which means I've got to remember to wear green that day or I'll get lots of grief at the coffee shop for forgetting. There was a parade in town yesterday but I wasn't around, having traveled down to Skydive Snohomish for Safety Day. It was a downright terrible day for a parade, though, with steady rain and dreary skies. A good day for being indoors.

We needed the rain, though, since it had been dry for the entire month of March until yesterday's soaking. With the snowpack in the mountains only a fraction of normal, there are already people worrying about a drought during the summer months when it hardly ever rains. I know that seems hard to believe when I complain about the rain that always seems to come on a Thursday, my hiking day with the Senior Trailblazers. I've grown quite accustomed to the weather in the Pacific Northwest, and it seems unusual when we get a string of days without any precipitation, except late July to early September. It was a really unusual winter, with much more sunshine than usual.

I get a massage every third Friday, and I really needed the one I received last week, after all the stress of the collision on March 6. It will be another three weeks before my car will be repaired, so I am forced to drive it around with the bumper all crunched in and the grill pushed out of position. The adjuster at the body shop said it's safe to drive, even on the freeway, but I drive it at slower than normal speeds and not very often. Fortunately for me, most of my driving is around town and I can take the bus most places that I need to go. (Smart Guy drove to Snohomish and back yesterday.) I am still very skittish behind the wheel after that accident. And the citation came in the mail, a whopping $175 ticket for my failure to yield on a left turn. Not to mention however much my car insurance will increase. A very expensive lesson indeed, but once the car is fixed, I can stop being reminded of it every single time I drive anywhere.

While I was receiving the massage, my therapist has an iPod that she plugs into her speakers to play soft music without having to listen to the same music all the time. She uses Pandora's New Age music channel, and it's always wonderful music without anything to make me focus on it, no rhythm or beat of any sort. I always enjoy it, but on Friday there was some very different sounding music that touched me very deeply. I asked her to see what it was, so that I could order it for my own relaxation. The name she was able to find is Sei He Ki and is a Reiki meditation. Well, all this was new to me, since I had never even heard of Reiki healing before.

It turns out that Sei He Ki is one of three symbols used in Reiki, and this one is the mental/emotional symbol, used to help people bring to the surface their problems and release them. I guess this was fortuitous for me, because it certainly helped me. Not only did I receive a great massage, but the music was so irresistible that I found it on YouTube and listened to it for an hour yesterday. Very relaxing. I will definitely buy it on iTunes once I find it. Fortunately I can listen to tracks from the available albums until I find this very one. Just another tool in my repertoire to keep myself as healthy as possible, in mind, body, and spirit.

Sometimes I worry that I am just trying to stave off my inevitable decline and that I am in denial of the fact that I really am well into my seventies and have already lived a full life. I read a passage from Cicero from his essay, written in 44 B.C., on old age. Cicero was a Roman statesman who was 62 when he wrote it, and a quick google search reveals that lots of people have gained solace from reading his words, just as relevant to us today as they were more than two thousand years ago. I found a blog post that pretty much sums up everything he says in that essay. What struck me is the reminder that everything has its season.

Enjoy the blessing of strength while you have it and do not bewail it when it is gone unless you believe that youth must lament the loss of infancy, or early manhood the passing of youth. Life’s race-course is fixed; Nature has only a single path and that path is run but once, and to each stage of existence has been allotted its own appropriate quality; so that the weakness of childhood, the impetuosity of youth, the seriousness of middle life, the maturity of old age — each bears some of Nature’s fruit, which must be garnered in its own season.

Even though there are moments of stress in my life, there are also many ways to cope with it, if I am willing to acknowledge that I have it. Every morning these days when I first get out of bed (after my cup of tea and my session with the laptop), I perform the Five Tibetan Rites. I started them last summer when I read a book about Olga Kotelko, who died at the age of 95 while still competing in track and field events. I wrote about her on my other blog, here, last summer. There's a video at the end of her at 93, describing why she competes. Anyway, some of her fellow competitors used the Rites as a way to prepare themselves for competition, and I learned about them and started doing them myself. I don't know if they have actually made any difference. Who knows? And now I have some relaxation music to help with my mental stresses. How did I ever get along before the Internet?

Not to mention all the friends and acquaintances I have made through blogging. I almost always have to mention how grateful I am for your presence in my life when I'm getting ready to sign off for the week, and this upcoming week is no exception. I hope you keep yourself as healthy and happy as possible until we meet again. I'll be busy doing the same.

How quickly things can change

Remembering the Mediterranean

I took this picture on the first day after I arrived in Turkey; it was the first time I'd ever seen the Mediterranean Sea. There was a storm brewing, as you can see in the turbulent sky and breaking waves. During the few days I spent there, I saw many versions of this beach, including a terrific windstorm where nobody ventured outside and the electricity came and went as we watched from our place of safety.

But sometimes there is no place of safety, we just have to endure the storms of life in whatever way we can. It helps to have company when we traverse these difficult times, but make no mistake about it: they will come, whether by illness or accident. My latest "storm" has come through a car accident. On Friday afternoon I collided with another car and bashed in its passenger door, while damaging the bumper quite badly on my own car. I was attempting a left turn into traffic and saw what I thought was my window of opportunity, but I was wrong: another car was coming that I didn't see. I can still remember the sound of the impact. Fortunately nobody was hurt, no air bags deployed, and a policeman wrote an accident report. I was able to drive my car away, but the other driver chose to have her car towed since the passenger doors were damaged. And then I was left with the aftermath of this particular storm.

It's Sunday morning. After having spent the first evening dealing with my insurance company and ascertaining how to proceed, I found it difficult to let it go. My mind kept going over and over the event, and although I was very tired, I couldn't sleep. Every time I would begin to relax, I'd remember it all over again. I kept remonstrating myself for my mistake, wanting to change the event's trajectory and wishing I had chosen a different path. Finally I slept and when I woke yesterday morning, I decided to go ahead and drive my damaged car to join the Saturday walking group. I'm glad I did, because that began the change in my attitude toward the event as well as giving myself some exercise.

I walked with my friend Linda and told her about it. As I was telling her how I'm beginning to realize how much my reaction times have slowed and about the changes I'll be making in my life, she offered me some good advice: wait three days first. She said it takes that long to absorb it all, and she's right, of course. I already feel very differently about the event, and although tomorrow I'll need to begin to deal with the process of getting the car fixed, it's no longer a huge overwhelming mental obsession.

I've been through many incidents in my life that make this one pale in comparison, but it doesn't matter. They are behind me, and this one is right here right now. My ability to roll with the punches, along with my reaction times, show the signs of my advancing age. I'm not the same person I was a decade ago, or even a few years ago. I can feel how differently I respond to change of any sort.

As long as things go on as usual, I am content and happy, but anything that disturbs my equilibrium these days is hugely disrupting. After having successfully traveled halfway across the world, since there was nothing unexpected involved, I managed to deal with the stress. And I'm dealing with this relatively minor incident as well. But it makes me wonder about the next big thing: how will I react? What can I do to get ready for it?

One of my blogging friends, Anni, is recovering from a heart attack. She wrote about it here, and I read it with both relief that she will be okay, and with interest in the description she gave about the symptoms she experienced. I had heard that women have very different responses to a heart attack, and she describes it well. She has every expectation that she will make a full recovery. I wondered how I would have responded if I had experienced the same symptoms. It's worth thinking about.

Part of my morning habit is to turn on the news to listen to the weather report and see what might have happened in the world while I slept. The local news always has weather and traffic every few minutes, and I give thanks that I don't have to deal with the traffic in and around Seattle during rush hour. Or any time at all, for that matter. There is never a day that several of the arteries around Seattle are not blocked by a traffic accident, whether it be a major one where people are injured or killed, or a minor one like I had on Friday. We have grown accustomed to driving, but people are killed every day in this country, maybe even every minute of every day, in these machines. I was reminded on Friday how quickly it can all happen.

I also ponder how similar the arteries in our hearts are to traffic arteries. Both require everything to flow easily and not get stuck, or else a blockage is formed. As human beings who eat several times a day, and who get behind the wheel of a car without thinking about it, we do actually have the chance to make a difference in our lives by making better choices. Whether it is to choose heart-healthy foods or make a right turn rather than a left turn for safety's sake, we can make a difference.

As I drove around yesterday, I realized that what is usually automatic became much less so. I was driving rather slowly and cautiously because of my accident, and I realized it would be really nice if I were able to bring that kind of consciousness into my everyday driving without having to be reminded so painfully of the power under my hands to change things forever.

And because of having lost an hour overnight (with the time change), I realize that I've finished this post a little later than usual. It's almost 8:00am rather than almost 7:00am. Sort of. My stomach is rumbling, asking to be fed at the usual time, and I'll consume some heart-healthy food, since it's pretty much all I have to choose from anyway. I hope that you will be well until we meet again next week.

The rhythm of my life

Last year's tulip display

I have noticed that spring is in evidence everywhere around this part of the country. Although this picture was taken last April, it looks like the tulips will be very early this year, and I could see the same thing in less than a month! I took a look at the Tulip Festival Bloom Map, and it confirms it. By the middle of March this year, a month early, I could be looking at this same picture. The Festival is held during the entire month of April, but there have been years when they have all come and gone by its end. I'll plan on visiting and taking pictures either at the end of March or the first part of April. It's one of the springtime events that I've not missed since I moved here.

One really wonderful byproduct of writing this blog is being able to go back a few years and find out what things were like back then. I wish I had some way to go back even deeper into the past, but this sort of thing, a blog, didn't even exist a few decades ago. I kept a handwritten journal during the 1980s, 13 volumes which sit on my bookshelf. I will open one occasionally at random and read about what my life was like then. I have even posted a few excerpts on here, but mostly I try to live in the present, not the past or the future. I'm pretty happy with my life right now.

Last Sunday after I wrote in here, I packed up my skydiving gear and headed down to Snohomish to meet my friend Christy. We were both in danger of losing our currency, since we are required to make a skydive at least once every six months or we have to go through a lengthy renewal process, not to mention an expensive one, at our local Drop Zone. So we went up, after checking our gear carefully, and made a wonderful skydive together. It wasn't even all that cold, and it felt great to be in freefall again, and to feel my parachute open perfectly over my head. We landed right back where we started, both tiptoe landings, just perfect, happy and excited. Smiles all around, and then we took our parachutes inside to pack them up again. While I was doing that, I managed to tweak my back and realized that I probably shouldn't make another one. We had accomplished our goal anyway, so I drove back home and have spent the entire week feeling that pulled muscle.

Today my back is completely back to normal, and nothing is hurting anywhere, but I'll stay home and enjoy the first day since my travel to Turkey without having anything planned. My garden beckons, and I might go out and see how it's fared during the winter months. I haven't visited it for quite awhile. But then again, I might go for a walk in the sunshine and take pictures of the burgeoning spring. It's nice to have so many options.

Yesterday, my niece Allison (Norma Jean's daughter) gave birth to her second daughter. I wrote about Lexie, her first child, in an August 2010 post. Lexie is now four, going on five, and hopefully will be a help to her mother as she recovers from another C section. Allison is a very strong woman, and I think it won't be any time at all before she's back at work and managing her very hectic life with her two daughters. Allison is unmarried and has conceived both children through IVF (in-vitro fertilization). At first I was skeptical of the wisdom of this procedure, but in the subsequent years since Lexie was born, I've changed my mind completely. A baby is a blessing that is not to be missed, and each one of us is unique, no matter how we come into this world.

Allison didn't have nearly as easy a time of it this time, however. She was in labor for 32 hours before finally having a C section. Alicia Jean Stewart is 9 lbs 4 oz (more than 4 kilos!) and 20.5 inches long. In other words, a bruiser, in more ways than one. That's almost twice what Lexie weighed when she was born. Norma Jean is there, having traveled from Florida to take care of Lexie and help to maintain her schedule. I'm just glad it's all over and now the excitement of having a new baby will predominate, instead of the anxiety and trauma of the birth process. Welcome, little Alicia!

Today also marks the day in 1961 when I was first married. I always think of that every year when March rolls around. How long ago that was: fifty-four years, to be exact. I've met people who were born around that time who are now old, more than half a century old. My son Chris, had he lived, would now be over fifty. I guess there are at least a couple ways to contemplate this day: one, be thankful for all the years and decades of abundant life I've received; or two, be regretful about how few days and years are left to me.

No, there are many other ways to think about March 1, 2015. It's the day that a new life begins in my family, and it's the marker of yet another trip the earth makes around the sun. The beginning of a new season, and a time to think of enjoying the beauty of the tulips springing up out of the ground, and of contemplating what delightful vegetables to plant in my garden this year. Maybe today I'll head out to the garden shop and think of what I'd like to be harvesting out of my garden in July.

Whatever you decide to do today, I hope that you might stop for a minute and think about all the blessings you have in your life. You are one of mine, you know, and I hope I never forget to thank my readers and commenters for your presence in my own life. Until we meet again next Sunday, I wish you all health and happiness.

Turkey is a wonderful memory

At Topkapi Palace, with the Bosphorus behind me

I am so glad to be sitting in my bed with my laptop on my knees, partner sleeping beside me, and a cup of tea warm and inviting on a Sunday morning. I have slept through the night for most of the five nights I've been home, and I think it's safe to say I didn't get sick and have that naturopath to thank. I took all the supplements and probiotics he suggested, and now I'm cutting back on those large doses. Except for the probiotic: I think I will continue to take that for awhile.

I received a really nice note from Mickey, my old boss. He said, "Thanks so much for coming to Turkey. We did it again. Don't expect I'll do it again. You helped more than you realized." That was such a nice thing for him to say, and it made me feel much better about my participation. Turkey was an experience I'm glad I had, and I wouldn't trade it for anything, now that I'm home and back to my old routine.

Other than having brought back some souvenirs and a couple of extra unwanted pounds on my hips, Turkey is now a memory. I have to say it was nothing like I expected. There was no sense of the anti-American sentiment I feared; in fact, I think the people of Turkey are much more hospitable and welcoming than I've experienced in other countries. Even in the bazaars, I didn't feel pressured to buy things. When I visited the Great Wall of China, the people hawking their wares were the worst: there are even lines on the pavement that they are not allowed to cross so that one can look at the souvenirs, but if I touched one, they often wouldn't stop haranguing until I walked away. Turks are polite and would never do such a thing.

I would also fly on Turkish Air again in a minute. The flight from Antalya to Istanbul is only one hour, but we were treated to a hot meal, a really good one that I would never have expected from an American carrier. In fact, one of the women who had to travel from New York to Los Angeles said she never even received a peanut on Delta. Of course there was food to purchase, but otherwise they only received water and other drinks. My Delta flight from Istanbul to Seattle was much nicer: we were fed three times during the ten-hour flight. If I had been able to sleep on the plane, it would have been perfect, but I just can't.

There are some people whose heads barely touch the back of their seats before they are sound asleep. I looked at them with envy. I have tried, and even with my extra pillow and one of those things that wraps around your neck, the best I could do is doze fitfully for a few minutes. I ended up watching two movies: The Grand Budapest Hotel (which I'd already seen but enjoyed thoroughly the second time), and Frozen, an animated movie that I hadn't seen since I don't have any little ones around to take me. I loved it; I was reminded of how much I loved Cinderella when I was young. Animation has come a long way since 1950, but Disney's sense of magic was well developed, even back then.

And finally the plane touched down on my home soil again. SeaTac's customs system works well. It is now automated with a kiosk that scans your passport and takes a picture of you. After answering the usual questions on line, a printed paper with passport and photo emerges that you give to a customs official. He glanced at it all and said, "welcome home." It was all very efficient and speedy. Within a half hour after landing, I was inside the terminal. This meant that I could catch the airport shuttle back to Bellingham two hours earlier than I'd expected. I was back home exactly 24 hours after setting off for the airport in Istanbul.

There is real truth to the adage that travel broadens one's perspective. Even though Turkey borders all those bellicose countries that we hear so much about these days: Syria, Iraq and Iran, the Turks I interacted with all seemed very considerate of others. In fact, the only belligerent people I encountered were Americans, to my chagrin. Why is it that we often think that foreign countries should be like home? My fellow travelers on the streets of Istanbul were from Peru, South Korea, India, Colombia, and America. Guess which ones had a sour face when things didn't go their way?

If I had my way, every university in the country would require its graduates to spend a month or two in a foreign country, so they might become citizens of the world rather than remain parochial and intolerant of differences. But I am not the Master of the Universe, so I'll just carry on my own little part by absorbing and appreciating the wonderful variety of people and places I get to visit during my travels.

That said, I'm more convinced that ever that those travels are now all behind me. Although it was really enriching in many ways, I realize that being in my eighth decade of life means that venturing out of my comfort zone will be limited to visiting family in various parts of the country. Even traveling to Florida to visit Norma Jean sounds arduous right now, but this time next year I'll probably be heading off to see her, in order to escape the long winter for a few weeks.

And lo and behold, when I returned, I see that there is plenty of light in the sky when I walk to the bus, and the plum trees are blooming! Daffodils and crocus are abundant, and spring is actually here already. I know that many of you who are on the East Coast will not be experiencing anything like we are here, but it will probably all turn around in the summer. Spring may be late, but it will return.

Our snowpack is so far below normal that unless we get some late winter storms, we'll be dry during the summer months, much drier than normal. I am so accustomed to everything being so green here; I hope we will get some much needed moisture in the form of snow in the High Country. We are right at normal precipitation, but because of warm temperatures, it's fallen in the form of rain, even in the Mt. Baker wilderness. A strange weather year, that's for sure.

In fact, I learned that when I left Istanbul on Tuesday, it began to snow and continued for two days, with a 28-year record for snowfall broken. Two feet of snow fell, snarling traffic and grounding flights. Fortunately for me, I left before it hit. A strange weather year indeed. Although it's impossible to know whether it's just an anomalous year and things will return to normal soon, I suspect that even climate change deniers might be having second thoughts. I hope so, anyway.

But for now, the sun will be shining brightly this Sunday, and I am going to head to Skydive Snohomish to make what will be my first skydive of the year, if all goes as planned. My friend Christy is meeting me there at noon, and we should at least be able to get our knees in the breeze once or twice. That's my hope, anyway. So until we meet again next Sunday, be well and happy. I wish it for you, anyway.

Trip to Turkey Part 2

Japanese tourists in front of the Blue Mosque

We arrived in Istanbul yesterday afternoon, and I've already been walking on the streets to see the Blue Mosque (above) and eaten in a local restaurant. And then we came back to the hotel and waited until 8:00pm to begin an evening session of the writing group. As a creature of the morning, this didn't work well for me, and I was glad when we stopped by 9:30pm. We will work all day today (Sunday), and then Monday we will have a tour of the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia. The day will end with a trip to the Grand Bazaar.

And then I'll take a taxi Tuesday morning to Atatürk Airport and fly to Amsterdam, with a connecting flight to Seattle. Finally a three-hour-long bus ride back home to Bellingham by evening. I will be so happy to be back into the routine of my life, I can't tell you. I've learned quite a few things during this adventure.

The first lesson is that I don't ever want to work again. I don't have my mind in the right place any more, and I freely admit that I have been basically useless to Mickey and thought that at least here in Istanbul I could join the writing team and contribute something. But frankly, it seems that I am only counting the hours until it's over. I thought it would be like riding a bike, that I wouldn't forget how, but all I've really learned is that I've changed. My priorities have changed, and wordsmithing a document I don't care about is just a task to be completed.

It's very cold here in Istanbul, but still there are many groups of tourists, such as the one in the picture above. On the right-hand side of the picture you can see benches that are usually filled with tourists during the high season, and all I can say is I'm glad I'm not here during that! Just now I began to hear the first Call to Prayer from the mosque, which occurs five times a day. This one is just before dawn, which is kind of nice from a distance. When we were walking around right under the loudspeakers yesterday, it wasn't so nice and I could hardly wait for it to be over.

At least here in Istanbul at a three-star hotel (instead of a fancy five-star one like before) I feel as though I am in a foreign land. Since I am finally over jet lag, I think I will enjoy tomorrow's tour, but the truth is that I can hardly wait to get home. Most of the people here are very nice, and it's obvious that they have developed a relationship to the tourists that includes hawking their wares and bargaining with us, but basically ignoring us otherwise. Did you know that Istanbul has a population of 15 million? I didn't, but now that I am here, I can believe it. Even now in midwinter, people crowd the streets.

You see every kind of dress imaginable, but with the cold weather everyone is bundled up. I would estimate that about 10% of the women wear head scarves, but not the hijab. I don't think I have seen any woman yet in a burka on the street, although it's obvious which women are observant Muslims because they are dressed in dark long dresses along with their head coverings. Basically we are all jostling each other as we make our way up and down the main street.

Our hotel is adequate, although after I finish this post I will try to take a shower and see how that works. One of our group said the water in his shower varied from very hot to very cold, and he was on his way to the desk to see if he might get it fixed. I enjoyed the food I ate yesterday, and I look forward to going out and exploring the area a little more, given my limited time in this ancient city. Everywhere there are ruins from the past, and I'll try to get some pictures tomorrow that will show what Istanbul is like today.

I have seen little to no evidence of the war raging in Syria, except for a couple with a baby begging on the main street, with a sign in English saying they are refugees from the war. Of course I gave them money, but I couldn't help but feel a stab in my heart for the awful war and all those displaced by it. There are many feral cats in Istanbul, too, but they look a lot scruffier than the ones in Antalya. There are also a few large stray or feral dogs wandering the streets. Nobody seems to care about them, and they look half-starved and it pretty much broke my heart to see them. This is not an easy place to live, I suspect, whatever kind of animal you are.

Another lesson I've learned on this trip is that the entire universe of bloggers have become a virtual family that I can feel even while I am here in this place. I have been able, because of the internet, to continue to read most of the blogs I follow, and I've gotten comments on my own posts from all around the world. I see the names of you all and I feel a warm fuzzy feeling of happiness that you are there, somewhere, along with me on this journey. Almost daily I've been able to video chat with Smart Guy, and it really helps to keep me connected with my real life. This is just a short interlude, one that has taught me that I've moved on, and that my life in Bellingham is full and meaningful.

And now the sun has arisen over the ancient city, and it's time for me to take a shower and begin my day. I remember that although it's dawn on Sunday morning here, you will be able to see this post on Saturday evening in the US, Valentine's Day. It continues to boggle my mind that I am able to travel back and forth in time, so to speak. So, from the future, I send you my most sincere greetings from Constantinople! Until next week, when I'll have traveled back to my comfy home, be well.