Ah, I See

And then one day it hits you. There's not an infinite amount of time left. That is when you have to decide.  Do I fold? Do I flourish? What do I do with this one life I have? How do I spend this time I have left?  Who shall I be while I am still here? I do get to chose.

Going Underground

Me then. 1973?

I'm not entirely sure how it happened but in a less than two weeks I turn 59. 59, as in just before 60. I am excited. No, really I am.

I stopped writing here for a while because it was not going the way I wanted it to and from now on I want to be honestly me. I was beginning to think in terms of writing things that would attract readers when what I really want is for this blog to be honest if nothing else. Frankly, what I am experiencing as I approach old age (for surely I am not "there" yet) is common to so many of my generation. Maybe writing honestly will be helpful, maybe it will be seen as self-indulgent (look how many "I"s I have to use!), maybe it is inappropriate to share such personal things on the Internet of all places.

The fact is that I am a writer and writing is how I cope and come to understand. That is part of why I am going underground. By that I mean, I am not going to promote this on Facebook or anywhere else for now. I can't believe I am going to say this, but I want to "find my voice." I want to just write away honestly and see what happens. So, people are drawn to the blog or repelled or never even know it existed. Whatever happens is fine. I find this aging thing fascinating and I want to share that.

Last night I looked closely at my hand. In the last 18 months my skin has begun to change. I look at my hand now and see my grandmother's skin. Wow. I was always the youngest at everything growing up. I skipped a grade early on so I was just getting my learner's license when everyone else was driving to school in their new car. I was a very young woman with a child when all the other mom's were a good 10 years older. Then I wake up one day and walking through the mall I am invisible. I look at "the kids today" and they are kids. Yep. It has happened. I am no longer the youngest at much of anything. I am still developing my career and making a life when so many my age are retiring. I am even in graduate school, and, yes, I am the oldest in my class. I have grandchildren which is the most amazing thing I have ever experienced.

So, that's it for now. But, now that I have given up trying to write about things that will interest people and decided to write just what I feel like writing I can't wait to see where I go. It's great being alive in a day and age where you can still begin again at the ripe old age of 59!

Grandmothers With the Spirit of a Grandchild

There is nothing in the world as amazing as being a grandmother.

Do you remember that old line from "When Harry Met Sally"? As Meg Ryan is crying to Billy Crystal about a former boyfriend marrying someone else, she says, "And, I'm going to be forty!" "When?" he asks. "Someday!"

Well, I'm going to be sixty! When, you ask? In thirteen months, two weeks, and….but, really, I'm not counting. Nor am I dreading. What I am doing is planning. I'm planning to be healthier at sixty than I was at forty or fifty. I felt great at fifty, but somewhere over the past 8 years I got hit with the aging stick. I'll get in shape after I finish this whatever, or after we get back from wherever. But, as my son reminds me, I'm not getting any younger, it's not getting any easier, and if I keep procrastinating I'll procrastinate myself right into an early senility/bedriddenness (I'm thinking that is not a real word).

Over the past year or so I have suffered injury after injury (I'm sure I've written about them already, but I forget). Recovery is a bitch, I must say. The latest injury was a torn rotator cuff from pushing a stubborn dog off of the bed. My injury is to my left shoulder, my husband has the same thing in his right shoulder, and the darn dog has yet to budge. But, I have been showing up for physical therapy because I discovered that it really works AND it works a whole lot better when you not only make the appointments, but actually show up and do the work at home like they tell you to do. My posture is amazing compared to what it was two months ago. Not quite as good as my little sister's but she is a freak of nature and has been complimented on her posture for her whole life while I folded over so I could hide in my lap.

Anyway, just going through this last injury and coming out stronger has been inspiring. The therapist said I respond so well to it. That got me to thinking (ignoring the voice that tells me she says that to all of her clients), what if I worked on my entire body?!? I've been searching and searching for just the right something to motivate me and this seems to be my something. I CAN make a change! See, I've done it already.  PLUS, I quit drinking diet Cokes. Now that is about on a par with giving up heroin in my book. One day I consciously focused on the taste and it made me realize that I wasn't drinking happiness.  I was drinking and was completely hooked on a concoction that truly had the flavor of a chemical spill. (But, let the record show I still "jones" for one from time to time.)

I love being a grandmother, but it occurred to me today that I still have in me the spark of a grandchild. Don't we all? Don't you? I am about to be 59 and then, "if the good Lord's willin' and the creeks don't rise", I'll be 60. I want to be able to run up the stairs and skip one every once in a while. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in bed.

Somewhere I read recently that "Sitting is the new smoking." That's got me moving. I have been given approval to start yoga again on my birthday, March 6th. My fantastic PT says I'll absolutely be good to go by then. I'm psyched. Getting older is awesome. I love the perspective. I love the gratitude. I love, love, love the grandchildren. But, I don't love what grandmothers were expected to be like in the 50s, 60s. I mean, if I'm going to have blue hair, it is going to be BLUE, baby!

So, I must get back to my homework, but I just want to say that this year is going to be one where I focus on putting aside my excuses and just being the Nike ad. Yes, I want to just do it this year. One day at a time. I feel bad for those forty-year-olds. Fifty-nine is going to be sweet.

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….