It's not just the passing of Queen Elizabeth II, although I've always had a weird fondness for England and for her. She became Queen the year I was born. I'm not unaware of the controvery of British history and colonozation, and I'm not unsympathetic at all. But this woman has been a thread running through the entire tapestry of my seventy years and I feel the loss in a surprising way.
Yesterday was also the birthday of a friend of mine whom I don't call often enough. I called to sing "Happy Birthday" and got a recorded telephone company message that they couldn't complete my call. My tech-savvy son was with me and offered to help find his new number, thinking he had changed phones. Instead he discovered my friend's obituary. He had passed away suddenly in June. The combination of losses in two days is proving challenging.
I'm still figuring out what life "in retirement" means, and I'm not convinced that I like it. The unavoidable side-effects of aging, besides feeling like an envelope without an address, include saying goodbye to an alarming number of friends. My morning prayers, which cover friends on both side of the Great Divide, get longer and longer. As I recall the names of all the wonderful people God has blessed me with in my life and has seen fit to call back, I see their faces for a brief moment, and it doesn't rip the scab off the wound, but it picks away at the edges. September is a minefield of memories for me, and it doesn't help that the seasons are changing and my life is changing at the same time. It would appear that mortality is not a rumor.
Slowly it is dawning on me that I really don't have all the time in the world to do all the things I think I want to do. This, unsurprisingly, includes tossing bags and boxes of stuff and living in a peaceful, uncluttered "zen" space. I mean, it would be nice, but instead I find myself playing word games on my phone or scrolling through a series of articles about which I care very little. I have started taking piano lessons once a week and that's a definite bright spot, but I need to write more and walk more (while I can) and visit more people who define the word "love" for me. And travel. I want to travel again. We've gone pretty much nowhere since Covid began and my heart is longing to see Wales, and maybe Italy. Oh yes, I've been teaching myself Italian on Duo Lingo. More phone time. And gaining back some of the weight I lost while working from home. I don't know how all this fits together. In fact I'm discovering I don't know much of anything I thought I knew.
My long chats with the Deity are scattered throughout the day, but I, who always loved going to Church, either watch it on my computer or don't remember at all. It started with Covid, but now I find myself getting very fussy about my soul. Not every Joe Schmoe is going to get an invitation to guide me spiritually. I want to go back to church, but I'm still wearing a mask. Numbers go up. Numbers go down. I've had all my shots and intend to get anything that's offered. Better to play it safe. Also, my heart seems to be someplace else these days. It's not all about Covid. It's mostly about me.
I'm not missing the office. As I wandered through the almost completely empty floors I started saying out loud "This does not spark joy" (thank you, Marie Kondo) and it was true. The world has changed in more ways than I am currently capable of handling and I don't know what to do about it.
My standard smart remark to people complaining about the end of the status quo is usually, "The only one who likes change is a baby with a dirty diaper" and that, I believe is a fact. I am trying to
learn from all this, and in keeping with the teachings of the Buddhist nun, Pema Chodron, "lean into the discomfort" rather than run away from it. What is it that I'm afraid of? What is it that I really want to do? What is it that I am here to accomplish, (because I believe we all have a job down here)? I just don't know. But I'm working on it.
Yesterday was also the birthday of a friend of mine whom I don't call often enough. I called to sing "Happy Birthday" and got a recorded telephone company message that they couldn't complete my call. My tech-savvy son was with me and offered to help find his new number, thinking he had changed phones. Instead he discovered my friend's obituary. He had passed away suddenly in June. The combination of losses in two days is proving challenging.
I'm still figuring out what life "in retirement" means, and I'm not convinced that I like it. The unavoidable side-effects of aging, besides feeling like an envelope without an address, include saying goodbye to an alarming number of friends. My morning prayers, which cover friends on both side of the Great Divide, get longer and longer. As I recall the names of all the wonderful people God has blessed me with in my life and has seen fit to call back, I see their faces for a brief moment, and it doesn't rip the scab off the wound, but it picks away at the edges. September is a minefield of memories for me, and it doesn't help that the seasons are changing and my life is changing at the same time. It would appear that mortality is not a rumor.
Slowly it is dawning on me that I really don't have all the time in the world to do all the things I think I want to do. This, unsurprisingly, includes tossing bags and boxes of stuff and living in a peaceful, uncluttered "zen" space. I mean, it would be nice, but instead I find myself playing word games on my phone or scrolling through a series of articles about which I care very little. I have started taking piano lessons once a week and that's a definite bright spot, but I need to write more and walk more (while I can) and visit more people who define the word "love" for me. And travel. I want to travel again. We've gone pretty much nowhere since Covid began and my heart is longing to see Wales, and maybe Italy. Oh yes, I've been teaching myself Italian on Duo Lingo. More phone time. And gaining back some of the weight I lost while working from home. I don't know how all this fits together. In fact I'm discovering I don't know much of anything I thought I knew.
My long chats with the Deity are scattered throughout the day, but I, who always loved going to Church, either watch it on my computer or don't remember at all. It started with Covid, but now I find myself getting very fussy about my soul. Not every Joe Schmoe is going to get an invitation to guide me spiritually. I want to go back to church, but I'm still wearing a mask. Numbers go up. Numbers go down. I've had all my shots and intend to get anything that's offered. Better to play it safe. Also, my heart seems to be someplace else these days. It's not all about Covid. It's mostly about me.
I'm not missing the office. As I wandered through the almost completely empty floors I started saying out loud "This does not spark joy" (thank you, Marie Kondo) and it was true. The world has changed in more ways than I am currently capable of handling and I don't know what to do about it.
My standard smart remark to people complaining about the end of the status quo is usually, "The only one who likes change is a baby with a dirty diaper" and that, I believe is a fact. I am trying to
learn from all this, and in keeping with the teachings of the Buddhist nun, Pema Chodron, "lean into the discomfort" rather than run away from it. What is it that I'm afraid of? What is it that I really want to do? What is it that I am here to accomplish, (because I believe we all have a job down here)? I just don't know. But I'm working on it.
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