Category Archives: Emotional Health

Books and other Soul Food, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life

I Love My Life

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I love my life. I love my Victorian apartment. I love living within two blocks of hiking trails.

One of my most frequently re-watched romcoms is Sabrina. – the one starring Harrison Ford – but it is not Harrison Ford that attracts me to this particular movie.  A favorite scene is Sabrina talking to her father – a grown man – a man the age I am now, older and wiser. He is, by occupation, a chauffeur for a wealthy and successful family. He lives in the studio apartment over the garage. I can identify with that. I have lived in studio apartments. I have lived in a studio apartment over a garage. I have a daughter of marriageable age – as does he. I find the idea of a studio apartment over the garage romantic enough that I wrote one into a novel – The Cemetery Wives. Anyway, in an apartment over the garage, well-appointed but cluttered with books, the mature man and his daughter are conversing. His daughter is a grown woman just returned from a year abroad. 

She reminisces that one of the things she loves about her dad is that he decided to become a chauffeur so he would have time to read. He has loved his life all those years; made a living, become financially secure, while just waiting in the car for the Larabees. Waiting and reading – doing what he most loved – all the while improving his mind and his bank account

The weather was perfect as I walked home from Jean-Pierre – the French, French Bakery at noon. The slit in the side of my little black tank dress let in a cooling breeze, my silver-trimmed sandals were perfect for the weather and for walking. I was coming home from an activity I most love; sitting at a grand piano and playing for 3 or 4 hours, evoking musical memories for all the guests dining on crepes and French pastries, and in the process making my daily bread. “I love my life,” I said to myself, “What a wonderful world! I love living in the mountains. I love being in Colorado. I love the great out of doors. I love life in Durango. I love that I get to make music every blessed day!” I am reminded of something I heard Paul Harvey say many years ago, “Find something you love to do and do it so well you make a living at it.”

Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Spiritual Well Being

Fun is a luxury

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He stood, stooped and bent, and leaning on a walking stick. A whimsical smile played around the corners of his mouth and a plaid fedora sat jauntily on his head. He chuckled, watching his grandson load six paddleboards atop the roof of a Ford Expedition. He shuffled a few feet toward them as daughter and grandson hefted a kayak to the top of her Rav4. “What a lot of work,” he commented, “for a little bit of fun.”

Had it been fun? Yes! 90 minutes on a sundrenched lake in the waning days of summer. Bliss. Beauty. Invigoration. Was it work? Undeniably, yes. She had driven two and a half hours from Durango and past Telluride just to spend a couple hours with her grown son, her aging father, her four grandkids, her daughter-in-law and the DIL’s parents – a standard, but all too infrequent meet-up in the gorgeous mountains of Colorado. Was it worth it? Isn’t fun always worth it? A day spent on the water is soul nourishing. Yet a spontaneous meet-up is very rare amidst responsibilities and work commitments. 

Fun seems so expensive in the day-to-day rush. Fun costs time. Fun costs effort.

If we are not careful, somewhere around the age of 25 we lose our grip on fun. We are too exhausted to go the extra mile for recreation, and we feel duty bound to do the unfun tasks first. Unless of course we have doctor’s orders to run every morning – or hike – or go for a swim – or sit in the sun! Then we can take our recreation like a pill, mark it off the list like a chore and not feel guilty about recreating.,  

She remembers fun when she was young and tagging along with her parents. They were youth sponsors in the local church. Having barely grown into adulthood themselves, they remembered how to plan fun activities. Youth get togethers, being church sanctioned, were obviously for the glory of God so copious amounts of time were spent lavishly decorating spook houses, bobbing for apples or taking a moonlit hayride. Likewise, church picnics could rightly be considered obligations. No amount of effort was too great to shlep the ice chest of cold fried chicken and potato salad to the group picnic site or to set up the volleyball net or horseshoe pit. But her understanding, her unspoken training, her unconsciously formed opinion was that personal recreation is selfish, self-centered, and therefore ungodly.

Here’s a newsflash: some people garden for fun. It is true! Also true that some garden to survive and it becomes acknowledged, hard work. But garden hobbyists, they work long hours, bending, stooping, hauling and they exude enjoyment.

Some people fish. For fun! Not for food. They rise before dawn and move silently to the river. They stroke and cast and stroke and cast and sometimes they catch. And then they release. For fun. Just for fun. They are home in time for breakfast – before the sun blazes over the one remaining mountain. 

Her perspective throughout early adulthood was that fun was expensive; a luxury, forbidden fruit, pleasure to be quaffed only when every other self-sacrifice had been performed to generate income. Now she knows that fun itself may take a copious amount of effort. She must be content to embrace that work, those duties, and then luxuriate in the fun – reap the benefits of rejuvenation!

Character, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Uncategorized

Forever 67

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She rarely drags her heels in dread at birthdays. What can you do to stop them? Nothing. The years will march on. So why not party? Eat the cake, blow out the candles and not rue the passing of the earth one more rotation around the sun. But this year? She doesn’t want to turn another year older. She knows these truly are the best years of her life. Sixty-seven has been the best year ever and therefore she wants to stay 67 forever. Finally, she has tasted it all. She has enjoyed the accomplishments she longed for, basked in snippets of affirmation, engaged in friendship, made the decision to enter in to self-confidence, greeted most days with gratitude.

Does she now have it all? Is the bucket list complete? Is it time to fold herself up and return to her maker? She doesn’t think so. 

She wants to stay 67 forever because she has finally tasted what life can and should be and she wants more of it. She wants to know the rest of the story. She wants to continue the momentum. She wants to keep saying to younger people, “It gets better! Hang in there! The 60s are a great decade! You have so much to look forward to!”

Still, she would like to linger in this year just a little bit longer, enjoy a second helping of this year’s goodness, perhaps order dessert, savor another cup of tea, a few more hugs and the promise of kisses, another sigh of satisfaction at a job finally, finally well done.

Character, Emotional Health, Family

Respect the Ex

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I grew up in a conservative American household with two parents joined for life and two children – one female and one male – just perfect. So far, so good. My mother sewed my dresses, patched my brother’s blue jeans, braided my hair every day and told me what a pretty little thing I was. On Sunday mornings (and Sunday nights and Wednesday nights) we changed to our good clothes and went to church. When I was washed and combed and dressed appropriately my mother told me I looked nice. Frequently, I overheard my father tell my mother he loved her. But there were other things I overheard. I overheard my mother calling herself ugly as she stood in front of the mirror. I overheard her berate herself for looking fat, having a double chin, having short eyelashes (she was the type of conservative who does not wear makeup). She continued to affirm me and tell me I was pretty. Everywhere I went people told me how much I looked like my mother. Who was I to believe? The mother who said I was pretty? Or the mother whom I looked like who said she herself was ugly?

My grown-up life has not been perfect. I have been the wife of two husbands and am now single, solitary. I have made some mistakes over the years. Heaven knows I can see the glaring errors of my exes. But those men are the father – the other parent – of my children. Half of the genetic makeup of each of my children comes from someone other than me. Did I want to raise three children to adulthood the entire time pointing out the fault of their other parent? In that way, would they not learn to hate half of themselves? How much more conducive to character building if I pointed out the strengths and positives of the ex and encouraged the child to cultivate those positives?

My children are grown now, and all successful – each in his or her own way. And still the world around me unravels. Relationships of the younger generation fall apart. Couples who have been together for a decade or so decide to split, leaving the children they share to be shuffled from one domestic environment to another on a weekly basis. Wounded and hurting exes vie for the upper hand. 

I have observed at a safe distance while unyielding and self-righteous individuals, in completely asinine fashion, intentionally undermine the influence of the other parent and sow seeds of rebellion and hate.

I have also observed wounded and hurting exes who have triumphed. Those, who in maturity and wisdom have set aside their petty grievances for the sake of the whole health of their children.

I have seen exes fight and hurl insults on social media. I have also seen exes build each other up, compliment and thank each other, in view of the children – and the whole world – on social media. Just like they did when they were in love.

Do me a favor. Do the whole world a favor. For the sake of the children and their emotional and mental health; don’t insult, teardown, or disrespect the parent of your child! Travel back, into the far reaches of your mind to the good times – or the one good time. Find one solid respectable trait for your ex and dwell on that when you talk to your mutual children. Save the other stuff for the privacy of your counselor’s office or the ear of your trusted friend. You may feel that making yourself the perfect hero in the eyes of your child will give them someone to look up to. Yet, to make the other parent – your ex – into a perfect monster is to infer the child is half bad, half detestable, half ugly. Can you not care enough about the child of two individuals; can you not respect and love your child enough to speak respectfully of the other parent? Children grow smart and wise. They will soon form their own opinion about the actions and behaviors of those who fathered and mothered them. Don’t disrespect the parent of your child.

Character, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Spiritual Well Being

I Want More

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She is 67 and she is abundantly aware that the best years of her life, the most enjoyable, the most productive, are now. She has all she ever wanted. She is livin’ the life. She makes music. She is immersed in music. She plays music for money. She has traveled and lived in many beautiful places – beyond what she originally imagined. She has walked and hiked in sunshine, blessed with the wind to her back and a breeze on her face, and crafted essays that describe her feelings, and lived to see a book or two in print. She has floated more than one river and seen the ocean. She has passed through fields of flowers in bloom at the peak of the Continental Divide. She has experienced the solitude of alone and independent in the wild.

She has birthed children and watched them grow and loved them and been loved in return.

She is 67. She knows what she wants. All she ever wanted is right now. Yet she does not sit on the couch waiting for the bell to toll. No. She wants more. More travel. More music. More beautiful places. More love. More JOY. For the remaining years of her life. Because the two final things on her bucket list are:

Sail into port grandly

Die in a beautiful place

She wants the last thing to leave her body to be music – along with her soul. Or is music her soul? Or is her soul music? She is not quite sure. But she knows they are inextricably twined. And she wants more. Why? Not because she is greedy. But because the cup of life at its fullest evaporates. One must constantly replenish.

To be clear, she feels a little more like The Cranberries and much better treated than Oliver.

Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Home and Hearth, Spiritual Well Being

Jigsaw puzzle piece

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What a wonderful morning. The air, though wintery, was alive with portent. Her sleep the night before had been complete, restful, scattered with positive dreams rather than riddled with anxiety. The morning cup of tea was just the right temperature juxtaposed with the frosty air from the open front door. The morning was like a bordered jigsaw puzzle waiting for a choice piece, the piece that had been held to the light, examined from all sides, compared with each preceding piece and each potential piece until, yes! Even from 18 inches away one could tell it was a perfect match. The piece, that one choice piece, was falling into place. Home. She was singing a new song. She had purchased a feeling, a feeling of home and happiness and success for yet another two months. She was alive. She was grateful. She savored this moment, enjoyed it fully, all the while knowing that once you finish a puzzle and breathe that sigh of satisfaction, soon enough there will be another challenge waiting in the wings.

Character, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life

I Regret Nothing

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Dear Universe,

I regret nothing.

Dear God of Provision

My gratitude is huge.

Dear Oracle who explains the whys,

Why could life not go on like this forever?

I heard the advice and sifted it. I kept the best.

I gave it all I had. I pursued my dreams with head and heart, my wisdom and experience guiding me.

I fully believe that every hand is a winner and every hand a loser. I played my hand. I played well and I played with gusto. I can truly say, I went for broke.

And now I am. 

Broke.

But stay my anxious thoughts and worries,

The new year cometh!

And with it the chance to start over again.

Again.

Books and other Soul Food, Character, Emotional Health, Fiction is Truth, Politics, Relationships

Library Book

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When the pandemic was in remission, I went to the local library and got myself a long- anticipated library card. Last week I interrupted my favorite morning walk along the river to go into the library and check out a couple books. As a writer I find it inspirational to read – not only to reread the best classics, but to read something new once in a while, yet I am choosey about what I read. Too much sugar will rot my writing teeth. Too much milk will make me soft. I crave something to make me strong, to make me feel good and to make me think. So, more often than not, I turn to fiction. Yes, fiction. Preferably from an author with whom I am familiar, someone I trust.

Lately I have read some confirmed best sellers as well as some fledgling attempts which turned out to be enjoyable books, but I really did not get into the story until chapter two or three. Not so with Young Jane Young (Zevin, 2017). I thoroughly enjoyed Gabrielle Zevin’s, The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry when it first came out in paperback somewhere around 2014. I enjoyed it so much that it stays on my bedside shelf for frequent rereading. The story is perfectly wrapped up and tied with a bow and leaves one feeling satisfied so it is a great model for writers. Also, it is a story that refers to short stories so it is great for avid short-story readers. So, it follows, on my recent foray to the library, I went intentionally to the “Z” aisle and was not disappointed. I opened the book to chapter one and began to read:

My dear friend Roz Horowitz met her new husband online dating, and Roz is three years older and fifty pounds heavier than I am, and people have said that she is generally not as well preserved, and so I thought I would try it even though I avoid going online too much.

What a culturally relevant beginning! It is not even aimed at women in their 20s. The woman is a baby-boomer.  But what really caught my attention was the narrator’s confession:

I don’t particularly want a husband.  They’re a lot of work, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone either, and it would be nice to have someone to go to classes with is what I’m saying.

Gabrielle Zevin has written a most enjoyable read about politics and betrayal and lifelong friendship and unconditional mother-love and starting over.  I think most of you will like it!

I am also looking forward to reading The Only Woman in the Room which is based on the life of Hedy Lamarr . The third book, which you can barely see in this photo is Paradise with an Edge by Walter Dear. Walter Dear is a newspaper publisher who retired in Durango a couple decades ago and has woven himself into Durango culture both through his writing and his piano playing. I leave you to guess how I met him. But it has to do with French pastries and a restored baby-grand piano.

Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Hiking and outdoor beauty, Mountains, Travel

She Knows Beauty

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Already she had been from her western Colorado hometown as far to the northwest as Olympia and Seattle and even on into British Columbia. She had travelled down Highway 1 to visit relatives in L.A. and Fresno and San Diego and flown all the way to Guam and Tokyo in one direction and New York and Frankfurt in the other. She had lived in San Antonio and Chicago and Oklahoma, but always returned to Colorado. And then she climbed on the backseat of a motorcycle and spent 21 days traveling to other places. She slept in a wheatfield in Kansas and saw the fabled Poconos and the outskirts of Philadelphia and the inskirts of Manhattan and almost ran out of gas in the lower tip of Michigan. She camped on a beach in Massachusetts and felt guilty; not merely because the sign said it was illegal to camp on the beach overnight, but because she had traveled far and wide from the western most boundary of Colorado all the way to New England and had not yet done the State of Colorado justice – did not yet know her own home state like the back of her hand. So, over the decades that followed, she attempted to remedy that. She saw the Colorado side of Dinosaur National Monument, she hiked all the trails at Colorado National Monument, she visited Rocky Mountain National Park and hiked to the headwaters of the Colorado River, she rode the train from Denver to Grand Junction and down Ruby Canyon into Utah. She camped in State Parks and saw the Royal Gorge and almost burned her feet at the Sand Dunes. She lost herself for awhile and drifted all the way down the Colorado River through Arches and Moab and Canyonlands and straight on into Arizona and saw the new London Bridge way out in the desert and dipped her feet in the Colorado River anywhere she could until it finally died somewhere out in California. And then she came back, determined to hike every trail, and climb every mountain, and paddle every stream that she could before she met her final goal of dying in a beautiful place. Nowadays her adventures are peppered with descriptive sounding places like Silverton, Ice Lakes, Highland Mary, Treasure Falls, Weminuche Wilderness, Lake City, Animas River, Cataract Gorge, Alpine Loop, Red Mountain, Grand Mesa. And you know what? She still doesn’t know her home state like the back of her hand, but what she does know is beauty.

Character, Emotional Health, Health and Long Life, Hiking and outdoor beauty, Musical resolutions, River

How to have a perfect day

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Say yes to bliss. But what exactly is bliss? Perfect weather? A perfect temperature? A breath-taking scene? The best of company? A perfectly tuned and resolved Picardy third playing on eardrums and heartstrings? Once one knows what bliss feels like, one wants to experience it again and again. The challenge for each individual who desires a perfect day is to find what activities have in them the potential for bliss. 

***

She rose at 5:45 am, which was not to early and not too late in the total scheme of things. This allowed a little time for thinking and the nourishment of a small, wholesome, bowl of oatmeal well-endowed with nuts and dates and raisins. This provided time for washing her face and popping in her contacts and pulling on shorts and a tank and still making it out for a morning walk before the summer heat of the day. The morning world was glorious. A hearty rain had fallen overnight to refresh all the living things and wash off the inanimate concrete and pavement and walls. It was not quite time for sunglasses for the sun was still on the other side of the mountain. She hiked half a mile or so up the nature trail, and even though she was the uphill traffic, she stepped aside quickly into a sagebrush when she heard steps thundering down the trail. It was either a puppy on the loose or a novice bicyclist. But, no, it was a doe, startled also to see a two-legged creature, polite, inquisitive. She and the deer observed the COVID rules of etiquette, stepping aside, leaving inquiring distance between. The doe was more curious than the human. The human merely wanted to protect herself in the bush in case the deer startled and charged. They passed without incident. But there wasn’t a lama between them – it was probably more like 4 feet. Just like two humans who cannot judge distance. She reached the top of the hill. She gazed across the valley and the vista and headed back down. At a particularly lovely juncture in the trail she thought: You know what would be pure bliss? To take the Purple Mohawk off Silver Girl and put her in the water. The kayak has been drydocked atop the automobile more than a month. It is a lovely day. My toe and my bruised rib are feeling no pain. Yes. I will choose bliss. I will take the kayak out on the river. 

But first, a new piano student at 10:00 am. And second, a practice session at the keyboard. A  bit of lunch whilst walking about the kitchen and filling the water reservoir.  A two and a half mile drive to the put-in and finally, boat on the water. She prefers to climb aboard from the left side, probably a residual habit from riding a horse as a youngster – or maybe mounting a bicycle. Turns out this is not such a good idea when the river is running high and muddy. There is a first time for everything and it was the first time – and hopefully the last – she swamped the purple mohawk, and had to drag her out of the water and pull the plug and drain her – before even taking a stroke with the paddle. As a consequence, she was now soaked to her armpits. But it was a warm day and the water felt good. She paddled a few bends upstream. She floated all the way back downstream. She replaced the Purple Mohawk on top Silver Girl and returned home. After cleaning up nicely, she ascended the Sky Steps (all 500 of them) to the college once more and attended an end of music camp concert, something she saw on Instagram. The type of concert where the instructors and pros play with the students and it warms the cockles of your heart and gives you goosebumps. And when she got home at 5:30 and fixed herself a hot meal she thought, Now that was a perfect day!

***

How to have a perfect day? Say yes to bliss. Do you know what the potential for bliss looks like for you? If not, you can begin by saying yes to opportunity – to as many invitations and experiences as possible. Just say yes. Eventually you’ll get it figured out.