I Won the Lottery!

Working to make my life my own personal Santa's workshop. 

Last night was the big lottery drawing for $500+ million. We bought some tickets for fun - you can't win if you don't participate after all.

This morning I let myself dream a little. I let myself really feel what it would be like to not be limited by lack of funds. And, I have to tell you it felt different. Things felt a little lighter. There was more excitement in my soul about what was possible. My mind opened wider to the possibilities that are available to me.

This change in attitude and perception clearly reveals that I have binders on. I am in a box I didn't realize was there. Limits. I have invisible limits. Unbeknownst to me I have let myself be chained by links of "if only". I'll do thus and such when I…make a lot of money, lose 30 pounds, get my degree. If only I had the money I would….. I would WHAT? Or worst of all: If only I were younger I would…..

I would what? I couldn't answer that. But, it's important to see part of the reason why was the invisible walls of limiting thoughts.

I would what? I will answer that. So much of my life has been spent accumulating experiences and knowledge that I didn't realize would come in handy one day. It seems that when each and every day is savored as special and a gift that it is easier to build on them and then, when the foundation is fully formed, leap!

Making each day an adventure (even if it feels like the 'same old, same old') helps tear down those walls.

And, so - even though we didn't win the lottery - I am a whole lot closer to realizing what a great day today will be….and then some.

A Famous Supermodel at 39? Shocking? Try Being Fabulous at 85!

Daphne Selfe, 85-year-old supermodel

Today's Huff Post Style led with a story on an onslaught of senior supermodels.  One of my favorites, pictured above and below, is 85-year-old Daphne Selfe. Now, I am not one to think supermodels are all that special except in the lucked-out-in-the-gene-pool category, but, come on, 85? That's fantastic. It's fantastic that people may just start appreciating beauty at any age. It's fantastic that 85 doesn't have to look like it used to. This woman obviously does have some pretty remarkable genes and I'm sure being a dancer and model for a large part of her youth didn't hurt.

What it is I admire is the sparkle in the eye. At any age that is the greatest thing there is. I love it in little children when they walk into a room lit by the lights from a Christmas tree. I love the way it felt when I realized I loved the man who became my husband - and the light in his eyes when I'd make him laugh (or more often, he'd make me laugh). How do you keep that sparkle of enthusiasm for life when the body starts slowing down, the energy dissipates, and loved ones fall ill and die? I love Ms. Selfe's responses in an interview:

What's the point? I go around looking at people and I think: "You look so sad". I have been very lucky so I can be cheerful and I'd like to make other people cheerful, too. If wearing clothes and prancing about in funny outfits is going to amuse people, I'll keep on doing it.

My life in six words… Perseverance, happiness, curiosity, luck, excitement, gratitude.

I've really got to work my way back from all of the injuries and setbacks from the last couple of years. This woman is 26 or 27 years older than me. Now, I can't take up dancing because that would only mean more broken bones, but there's a lot I can do. I figure if I keep on writing and keep on reading about yoga and healthy eating…well, the more I read and write, the more I stay conscious of my goals. 

I'm excited about enjoying life as an older woman. I've always thought the hands of elderly women are so cool. They show so much….life. Slowly I am starting to take better care of myself. Slowly I am starting to care better for myself. I've always thought that people living joyous, happy, REAL lives inspired those around them. Being Debbie Downer doesn't do anybody any good. I am happy right here in this particular moment of my life. 

One more thing. I read about a study and the University of Pennsylvania medical school. It was about meditation and aging. It said that in a study of seniors, those who meditated were discovered to have longer telemeres (I think that's the word). They are the ends of the genes in the DNA. The longer the telemere, the longer you live. Those that meditated in the study did "loving kindness" meditations. Instead of OM, they meditated on wishing long life and happiness to others. I promise next time I'll include references for something like this. But, today I did some meditating and I thought of my grand babies. I held them in my mind and heart and just focused on wishing them happy, healthy, love-filled lives. A.) it was easy to focus on, and B.) it felt great. I could feel those telemeres stretching. 

Every day, just one or two more little things to open my life up. Baby steps…granny steps!

"Whomp Up Side the Head" or "Feast on Your Life"? That is the question

One person's junk is another person's treasure.

Love After Love

The time will come

when, with elation

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror

and each will smile at the other's welcome,


and say, sit here. Eat.


You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you


all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.


Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,


the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life. 

Derek Walcott

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An acquaintance posted this poem on Facebook this morning. It was one of those things that came at an appropriate time for me. I don't know if it is the chest-expanding/heart-opening/posture-improving exercises I've been doing or what, but this morning as I went about running errands, I couldn't help but notice how many people were smiling at me. I did feel good, open and peaceful. I noticed I was standing up taller. Were people picking up on the openness?

It has been so apparent as I have "worked on myself" over the years that I can tend to view myself through my perceived opinion of what others think of me. Whoa, now that is one "big bowl of wrong!" as the guy on Larry David's show used to say. It's none of my business what other people think of me I've been told, and that is finally starting to sink in. When I look at how I look at others I can't help but think that I have no business judging because what do I know of the contents of another's heart (although I guess actions are pretty apparent)?

Last week I got up in the middle of the night to let my dog go outside (she insisted). It was 3AM or so. I grabbed a clementine and with the second bite something went terribly wrong. It went down the wrong way, my throat was closing, and I couldn't get air. As I tried to breathe in nothing got through and it made a horrible strangling noise. I began to panic, got sweaty and dizzy. This was it. In a flash I was angry as it suddenly became so clear what a wonderful life I have. I focused on my son and my husband. My son and my husband. I was actually happy thinking about them. My daughter-in-law, my grandchildren, my sister, those awesome stepsons, my friends… who could let such a wonderful reality go? Fractions of a second brought flashes of memories, and a warmth built up inside…as I started to pass out. I leaned over the counter and tried to calm myself on the warm thoughts of love. I realized that I couldn't breathe through my mouth so I relaxed my muscles and air was able to finally clear through my nose. Breathe. Ignore the throat. Breathe. Open. Open. Relax. 

This was the second such experience I've had in my life where it seemed quite evident that the end was right there - unexpected, but right there. In both cases my mind instantly went to love. The first time I didn't know my husband yet so I thought of my son. He knew,  really knew, he was loved. What better thing could one leave behind? 

I look around my studio now and think about the poem and how horrible I am to myself - do I know I'm loved…by me? The things I say to myself about myself are cruel. I look at other people who are cruel to themselves and I think, "Don't you see how wonderful you are?" I'm fat. Well, whatever. Listen to your constant laughter. Consider how you spent the entire day yesterday just being with your 11-month-old grandson -- 100% there. He had a blast and I did, too. You can do something about that and you will when you make up your mind -and quit beating yourself up. I fall behind in everything, I'm always late. Well, whatever. You have ADD to the max. But, it's funny. It's great to watch your mind work. You're so creative. I'm always tired. Hmmm, well, you probably wear yourself out beating yourself up side the head with a baseball bat every waking minute. Maybe if just 1/10 of your thoughts were kind and uplifting… or, I know, think about somebody else besides yourself. I'm selfish and self-centered, aren't I? You're wearing me out, no wonder we're always tired. See, I told you. What you argue for is yours, my dear. 

Years - decades - ago I remember pulling out a picture of a cute little me aged 2. As an exercise I looked it that little girl with love. I was so full of self-loathing at the time, but I could see that little Cindy was darling. So I let myself love her. It was a very helpful exercise as in time I was able to trick myself into being kind to me. I'll do it again, but it's really just a choice. 

Right now I'm looking around this messy, half-organized (ok, I do exaggerate to make a point - a quarter-organized) studio and smile. I see a little raccoon that I bought in the airport in Hong Kong hanging on my lamp (he has magnets in his feet). I see the picture of my husband and me at our wedding in front of one of Paige Harvey's paintings that I want to buy one day. I LOVE her work. 

There are little trinkets of my life and my dreams and my mind and my loves everywhere. An orange Pokey; books galore; a coffee mug that my grandson Hayden made for me; copies of my first two PlayRights magazines; a huge copper bell that I got at the retreat in Sonoma for the founding of the International Green School Ground Assn.; an old, old leather belt of my mother's that I am going to use to make a pocketbook with some old burlap coffee bags and stuff. I'm a mess, but there is so much love and meaning in everything around me. 

I just get to choose whether to take that big huge awesome book that I haven't read yet and clobber myself on the head with it….or open it and look at the pictures, read a paragraph, read a page, and glow at the beauty of it all.

Most Injuries Are Stress-Related…Tell Me About It!

My Mother Always Said "Sit Up Straight"

Just a quick update because I have weeks of studying to do in the next five days.

I just got back from the physical therapist about my shoulder and I feel like singing. She had me do a series of movements that I would rate on the pain scale from 1 to 10. She said we would begin working on the most painful point and go from there. Here's what I took away from the amazing session:

(1) She said that something like 80% of injuries are stress related.

(2) Most of us need to work on our posture.

On point number one: one of my friends said (again) the other day that they were going to do an injury intervention on me. There had to be a reason why I was constantly getting hurt…or not so much getting hurt as hurting myself. I think it is safe to say that having a 16-year-old step-daughter battle and lose to cancer and then living in the aftermath qualifies as a stress-inducer.

On point number two: I have horrible posture. My sister got my grandfather's posture- ramrod straight. Me - not so much. I spend so much of my time hunched over computers or phones or pads these days. The muscles in my chest and shoulders get tighter and tighter and the muscles in my back stretch and weaken. So she told me that every hour on the hour I am to be aware of how I am sitting or standing, and then do three quick exercises:

(1) Gently push your shoulder blades/shoulders down and release -- 20 times.

(2) Squeeze your shoulder blades together - sticking your chest out helps - 20 times.

(3) Push you shoulder blades back and down - not first back and then down, but one movement - sort of imagine on the diagonal. Yes, do this 20 times.

Every hour on the hour. I'll have to set my phone alarm or I'll forget.

While I was there she had me lie down with a piece of a pool noodle along my spine (a rolled up towel will do). At the same time she put a moist heat pad around my shoulder. She told me to lie there for 10 minutes. It was AMAZING! I am not exaggerating here. I felt my chest open up. I tried to gently focus on what was happening to my body as I lay there. It was as if a chiropractor was realigning things. This may sound corny, but as I felt my chest open up I focused on my heart and on letting it rest and open. Earlier in the day as I showered to get ready for my appointment I realized I was tense and rushing. In the shower?!? When do I not tense and rush? Now. And on the hour.

Oh, shoot!! It's 11:09! I missed the hour.

Squeeze - two - three - four….

I Broke What?!

Excuses, excuses.

I'm not interested in excuses. You? Well, that IS my right foot…but it was 3 months ago. That is not my right hand - I think it is a guy's hand - and my brace is way cooler than that and it goes on my left wrist. But, I haven't had to use it for a few days. Today,  I was at my hand, elbow and shoulder doc though. And, that should tell you what kind of a year it has been. I have a hand, elbow, shoulder guy. Have I written about this before? I'll check before I go through all of the gory details, but I will say that I broke my wrist falling off a train in England on my way to graduate school in January. I love saying that. Sick, huh? Great story. Bad fall. But, it really sounds like the start of something… it all started when I fell off the train in Swindon, a sleepy little town between London and Gouchestershire…..

Anyway. Here's where I am (in the background my mind keeps saying, "It's not whether you fall down it whether or not you get up again that matters.")…embarrassingly, not doing much yoga…yet. I hurt my shoulder. The X-rays today showed some arthritis on that big end of the arm bone that goes into your shoulder. I forget the name. I do know that all of those muscles have something to do with the "rotator cuff" or they are it or something. I may have a slight tear, but we're going to see how physical therapy and Aleve do for the next two weeks before we go the MRI route. He offered to give me one of those shots in my shoulder, but I remember having one of those shots in my wrist. No thanks! 

I am really finding it annoying that I know so little about how the body works, and, how it is changing as I age. When I was younger I could get away with almost anything. I could lose weight fast. Injuries would disappear. Shoot, when I was in college and worked at a bar (T.K.Hardy's, if anybody out there is from the University of Georgia) I could even throw kegs of beer around (using the hips helped). But, now, all the bets are off. Things are going to start falling off of me if I'm not careful. 

First things first. I am taking my exercise sheet to the physical therapist tomorrow morning to get those things cleared. I have been doing squats and love getting strength back in my thighs. Those don't use my arms so I know that will be ok. But, honestly, how do you research getting old? Do you Google "whiny chicks aging"? I suppose I ought to go to Amazon. When all else fails buying a book always makes me feel better and surely Dr. Christina… what's her name..the menopause doc? Ha! Christiane Northrup…the first book up when you put "menopause" in Amazon. I'll see what I can come up with.

My apologies for all of those ready to hear tales of glory and yoga. As Eliot said in E.T., "This is reality, Greg!" But, one thing I did learn from quitting smoking cigarettes long, long ago was that every time I quit I got a little closer to when I really DID quit. It has been since September 17th. Uhhh.. 1975 or '76 since I quit a 2-3 pack a day habit. So I can quit and stick. In this case, I need to transform and stick. 

I'm getting a picture in my mind of the me I want to be. I'm talking physical changes here. Healthy changes. If you'll bear with me a little longer I'll share what I learn and I won't give up. I also won't wait this long between posts…and I probably should make them shorter. But, should, should… 

As far as I know I broke nothing other than my stride. So, I pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again. It's better than the alternative.