Ever feel like the place you work is a little wild? Today’s Wild Wednesday picture post is all about wild things at my seasonal place of work.
Wild (Work) Wednesdays
Category Archives: Health and Long Life
Gratitude brings happiness
Some months ago, while car shopping, I posted on Facebook “ Red with a spoiler,…but will it make me happy?” And my 24- year-old daughter responded, “Yes, yes it will.” If you know my daughter and me, this exchange seems ludicrous, almost batty. We both know that things don’t make you happy, that money doesn’t buy happiness. We are accustomed to live frugally.
I know some things that do bring happiness: a heart full of gratitude, time spent with those I love, the sweet feeling of success large or small.
Within a week of purchasing the vehicle, I was able to travel to Ft. Collins and visit my two younger children. I had been desperate to see them for several months. I can take the car to work or into less accessible areas. When I return from a long hike and see my own *Red Pearl in the distance, it is like coming home. My heart is filled with gratitude.
When I began car shopping, I knew just what I wanted; a dependable, fuel conscious Subaru Outback, preferably red, within the scope of my savings account. The spoiler was unexpected lagniappe. So is the upgraded stereo system – literal music to my ears.
It is impossible to ever enjoy a feeling of success without having set goals – large or small. Reflection on goals met or sweet success brings contentment and confidence. The confidence comes from being able to say, “I did what I said I was going to do.”
I got my children through school. I finished my degree. After much research, saving and shopping; I got the car I wanted. But these successes share some things in common. They all cost money, time, focus.
Money may not buy happiness, but it does augment the time I spend with those I love, the sweet feeling of success; and hey, money right when it is needed causes overwhelming gratitude.
This year, I’m going to do what I said I was going to do. I’m going to write a book. I’m going to live as though I have been given only 365 days to live. That is going to take time and focus. Oh, and undoubtedly some money.
* Red Pearl – sorta like the Black Pearl, and captained by a woman. The dealer certificate lists the color as regatta red pearl.
Dueling with the daily despond
Sometimes, I feel like I have only two settings for my moods; life is wonderful, or get me out of here. I am constantly observing my habits for ways to take charge of the daily despond. I am not talking about major, long-term, unrelenting depression here. A proper duel doesn’t last long. Someone wins. The other loses. The day moves forward. When I take on the daily despond of rising and getting going, I want to be the one who wins.
Maybe these heart healthy habits apply to you too.
Walk or hike daily. Second only to getting a good night’s rest, walking or hiking is the most deeply spiritual thing I do.
Make music Making music is right up there with walking and hiking as brain, heart and soul food. Singing or playing a wind instrument adds an aerobic bonus.
Read and Write – Sometimes, life is dissatisfying simply because I have not spent time in the company of great thinkers via a good book. Other times, penning a well turned phrase or two in my journal will bring contentment
Eat well I have experienced the jubilant feeling of wellbeing often enough to know that’s what I want every possible day. Eating well includes on time, often and healthful. Pinto beans are disastrous for my feelings; also, anything with caffeine – including chocolate. Too little sugar makes me droop. On the other hand, too much sugar is catastrophic. I suffer in body as well as spirit when I succumb to gorging on my favorite sweets.
As long as I make a beeline for the good things in life – apples, lovely salads, chicken and veggie stir fries, my body and my spirit communicate well. When I cave to the occasional temptation of carbonated drinks, an ice cream, wine or mixed drinks, I pay for it the the next morning – seldom with a headache, but frequently with a vague dissatisfied feeling of non-wellbeing.
Rise with the sun I like to let my body sleep in while my brain is waking up. Rising before dawn is a struggle. Whenever possible, I like to wake naturally with the dawn. Optimum for my frame of mind, is waking gradually without alarm and having a few moments between sleep and full speed ahead. In these moments, my brain and heart process new ideas and revelations. I notice what I really think or feel of a goal, problem or relationship after sleeping on it.
This idea is not unique to me. Melody Beattie recommends paying close attention to your first thoughts and revelations on waking: “Morning Cues, There is an important message for us first thing every day. Often, once we get started with the day, we may not listen as closely to ourselves and life as we do in those still moments when we first awaken. An ideal time to listen to ourselves is when we are laying quietly, our defenses are down, and we’re open and most vulnerable. ..lay still and listen and then accept the message.”
Get outside fast When I must set an alarm, my next technique is to get outside as soon as possible, go to the door and stick my head out, open a window. If the great outdoors is not available to me for some reason, my other option is to get into the shower and let an abundance of hot water cheer me up. Hot running water will forever be my modern luxury of choice. Usually, by the time I am dressed, made-up and out the door, I am invigorated.
Sleep well, rise with the sun, get outside fast, walk, make music, read and write – these all earn a Healthy Heart label. What choices do you make to keep body and soul healthy?
The piano is not firewood yet
“The Piano is not firewood yet,” this phrase, from lyrics and music by Regina Spektor, is my new battle song – my new anthem.
I shout, “The piano is not firewood yet!” and it is the voice of John Paul Jones bellowing, “I have not yet begun to fight.”
I hear the voice of God asking in the wilderness, “What have you got in your hand, Moses?” and Moses replying, “A rod.”
“Throw it on the ground, Moses.”
The voice calls to me,
“What have you got in your hand?”
I reply, “A Piano!”
For me, Regina Spektor’s lyrics are literal. Maybe for others, metaphorical. But here’s the deal, It is summer weather. I have four more months of warmth in this 365 days to live, so the piano is not firewood yet; though it has been dangerously threatened over the years. But, if it is not going to be dismantled to keep us from freezing, might it be taken from me another way?
Metaphorically, is it collateral? Capital? A sacrificial lamb? What possibilities does it present? Is it merely to attract more students? Is it to rehearse my fingers for performance? Is it setting there between me and my empty wood box, to inspire my stories (I can’t seem to keep the protagonists from playing the piano)?
Is it to point me constantly toward a heart of gratitude? Once, I did not even have a piano and this one was provided generously, almost miraculously, through a friend.
Regina reminds me to press on, to do what needs to be done.
“the piano is not firewood yet
but the cold does get cold
so it soon might be that
I’ll take it apart, call up my friends
and we’ll warm up our hands by the fire”
The Universe calls clearly, “What have you got in your hand?”
I answer joyfully, “A piano! My piano is not firewood yet!”
What is this throwdown going to look like?
My life in pictures
I used to be really bad at taking pictures. Somehow, I could not get the hang of my 110 Instamatic. First, I had to buy the film. Then, feeling the strain of the expense of a roll of film, I severely rationed the use of 24 exposures. When the roll of film was spent, it was either left in the camera to season, or removed and tossed in the center drawer of the desk to await a newspaper coupon for discounted developing. 18 months later, coupon and cash exchanged for prints, it was disheartening to find my memories of the occasion fuzzy – and also my pictures. What a waste. My too frugal budget could not stand it. I gave up taking pictures.
For decades, my life was built on getting it right the first time. Experimentation that resulted in waste was not allowed. While excellence is a worthy goal; perfectionism or poverty are cruel and joyless motivators. Failure to get it right the first time results in giving up because you cannot afford to give yourself a second chance.
I continue to live on a frugal budget. These days, I have a smart little economical camera that allows me to take pictures with wild abandon; keeping or discarding at will at no extra expense. The freedom to practice away increases the quality of my photos. Even the batteries are rechargeable. News publications that used to be chary with color print and picture space now require a picture – an eye-catching visual – to publish. A camera is essential to my writing career.
If you are going to write about life; another essential is experience. Some experiences come via attending events. Events come with a cost; ten dollars, twenty, maybe even forty for a concert or show. Attending events is like taking pictures – you win a few and you lose a few. Many times you just click the discard button. But you keep going because once in awhile there is a stellar surprise. It’s a lot like life.
What I really want is a digital budget – maybe even a digital life. I want to be a shutter bug, clicking away at memories, pictures, events – not missing out on a single thing. But, I want to be able to delete the fuzzy, smudged, unfocused and undesirable. I want to quit demanding my money back for the events that failed to meet my expectations; but I also want the freedom to keep practicing until I get it right.
Only 365 Days to sing and make music – – Quartet, the movie
An upscale retirement home for aging musicians.
A birthday party concert for Verdi.
A residence where every type of music and musical personality emanates from the walls of every room.
Another curtain call – one last hurrah in the final stages of life.
What could be more appropriate?
I took myself to a movie last night. Yes, I skipped supper and ran out the door after my final piano student to make it to the historic, downtown Avalon before showtime. I sat in the lumpy and aged theater seats of what was known as the Cooper Theater in my childhood. It was the place I first saw the original “Fantasia.” Also where I gagged at the smell of a cigarette smoked surreptitiously nearby. But that was once upon a time, very long ago.
As the reel rolled, I was reminded over and over again of who I am and who I used to be. More importantly, I was reinforced in my resolve of the past few years to live each year as though I have been given 365 days to live. Things that need to be said, relationships that need to be healed, dreams I want to come true; come under deadline when I have been given 365 days to live. As Robert D. Smith says in his book, 20,000 Days (2013), “…imminent death inspires clarity of purpose.”
Was it a feel-good movie? Do tears make you feel good? Does getting older comfort your soul? In some ways, the plot was reminiscent of “August Rush” with the underlying theme of never giving up on your music. Over the past year, I have played numerous one hour piano gigs at retirement centers. The movie, “Quartet,” is a poignant and comedic reminder of the changes that happen as talented, intelligent people age. Think of it as “Pitch Perfect,” for great- grandparents.
These were opera singers. While I have never aspired to sing opera, the similarities to the music life in general brought back vivid memories – pictures from the scrapbook of time. Reggie’s magnificent presentation, to high school kids, of the similarities between rap and opera reminded me of numerous times I stood in front of a class, endeavoring to engage middle schoolers by following the common thread, however thin, between their favored genre and classical music – back through history to the roots of music.
Are you like me? Whatever my goals and dreams, I want to keep doing them, reaching that high-point again and again. It is not enough to cross something off the bucket list – to redeem and reconcile the past. Living each day in the present, saying what needs to be said and doing what needs to be done daily is also part of the deal.
I will make music. I will. I will. I will. And, I will live to write about it.
What are you doing in the 365 days you have been given? Are you keeping the music alive? Please leave me a comment, so we can encourage each other.
Not Pictured: A senior’s oldies band I played with briefly in Seattle in 2011 resulted in relationships with other aging musicians.
A Bump in the Road
A few weeks ago, I bought a new car – new to me anyway. I had been looking for several weeks, and doing my research. I did not purchase blindly. I knew what make and model I wanted and why. Before closing the deal, I ordered the CARFAX and had a mechanic do a 41 point inspection. Some items needed to be addressed in the near future, but they were not critical. The information informed my purchase price and my savings account.
With delight I moved through the purchase and titling phases and took my new vehicle for a spin to all my favorite 
places:
The Colorado National Monument
The grocery store
Ft. Collins to visit two of my children
What a ride!
Things were unfolding just as they should.
Then, I hit a bump in the road. On Easter Sunday morning, cold and frosty in Ft. Collins, my wonderful car refused to start for an extended period of time. Give me a break! It’s a Rocky Mountain Edition Subaru. After noon, I enjoyed the 5 hour return trip to my little adobe house without negative incident and with several leisurely sightseeing stops along the way.
At noon on Monday, when the weather was fine, the car once again balked at start-up. And at 7:00 Tuesday morning. On Wednesday, I followed my intuition and filled the gas tank with premium from my regular supplier. (That’s the thing about a Subaru, you return from a road trip and still have to drive around town for a week to empty the gas tank). My Friday morning start was better, but over the weekend things digressed again. Thursday, as I prepared to return to the mechanic for the recommended repairs, it took 15 minutes to get the car started. I’ll be honest. Cold starts were one of the reasons I sold my 1994 Subaru in February and the buyer knew that. I paid for an upgrade to 2004.
This type of frustration leads me to think, “I bought a lemon,” or; “The seller deceived me.” But logic says, “this is a one owner car, 9 years old. The car has 184,000 miles on it. You do not keep a lemon for 9 years and put 184,000 miles on it.” This too, shall pass. Yes, I bought a nine year old car, expecting to put out a thousand on repairs every year – but, $1,700 in the first two weeks? That’s a little steep.
This car is a part of my decision to live 2013 as though I have been given 365 days to live. Already it provided the freedom and confidence to travel over the mountain to loved ones. It is my ticket out of town anytime I need to flee. With regard to unforeseen expense, I will say over and over to myself, “it’s just a bump in the road, it’s just a bump in the road.”
Let’s hope the same phrase gets me through tax time.
Keep calm and pay your taxes.
Wherein I contemplate relationships and childhood sweethearts
April 6,
Today is Paul Hawkins’ birthday. Happy Birthday, Paul! You probably don’t know who Paul Hawkins is. To my knowledge, he never became a celebrity or distinguished himself in any manner other than raising a family and doing the work that was given him to do under the sun.
He was my boyfriend the year I was seven and oh, how I loved him. He seemed to see deeply into my soul and I into his. We were to be married someday. We talked of it and planned. We took our vows. The next year, he was someone else’s boyfriend, another’s the year after that. With his wry sense of humor and moral steadiness, he was popular with the girls. My feeling of connection and loyalty lasted considerably longer than one year.
Given that I have two failed marriages on my record and Paul has celebrated decades of anniversaries with a high school sweetheart, it would be unfair to cast myself as the more loyal person. I am not sure precisely where he lives today, nor what has been his occupation for the past forty years. So, why is it I remember his birthday, yet have to drill myself to remember special dates for close friendships formed in adulthood?
Let’s leave that question for later, or give it to the analysts or folks who study aging and memory. Or use it for a debate point for educators anxious to cram content into the brains of children while they are still young and fresh. But to the educators I give this disclaimer: I don’t remember Stevie’s or Russel’s birthdays. (Stevie and Russel were my loves in first grade. I haven’t seen either of them since 1961.)
Recently, I spoke with a 20-something woman who is still single. She dreams of marrying someone she has known over the long haul, in many settings, through joy and grief, hard work and leisure; someone with whom she shares a lot of activities and interests in common, including the past. Shared history is a plus to a relationship.
I have cousins who married childhood sweethearts, pursued meaningful careers and are now enjoying the retirement years together. They also shared certain values.
On the other hand, I know some friends and relatives who married in haste, not knowing enough about the other. They spent the rest of their lives trying to adapt and learn to get along; determined to be the right person since they didn’t marry the right person.
So, what if you find yourself of marriageable age, your goals and dreams include having a family, but you don’t have an available friend of the opposite sex with whom you grew up? Are you doomed to a life of singleness or mismatched misery? Most certainly not!
I also know some people (I have a whole passel of relatives) who did not meet a soulmate until education was finished and career begun, yet the relationship blossomed quickly and they felt they had known each other forever. Their interests and values were aligned. They possessed an abundant ability to love and be loved in return.
So, why do I remember that today is Paul Hawkins’ birthday? I think it has to do with who I am now – an old lady with a full memory chip. At the age of seven, his was the first birthday outside my own and those of Mom, Dad and Brother, that went into my memory cache. Teachers and musicians know that the first and last things you hear stick with you best. It is the stuff in the middle, the transition and development, that gets bogged down and foggy. I’ve had a long transition and development.
Bear bells, being who you are and owning your power
The purpose of wearing bear bells, is to let the bear know who you are. You are a human. In some ways, you have more power than the bear.
The purpose of being yourself is to let people know who you are. You own certain power. If you cloak your abilities and bury your desires, when they do come out, it startles those around you.
When your power or intelligence bursts forth – and it will – it surprises the ones you are next to. They explode. They either shatter in a million pieces or attack you.
Other people, less powerful, less charismatic, more nonchalant, may be able to confront and stand up to the same people with impunity; for all along, they have been gently jingling bear bells. If you, who have kept hidden and unnoticed, do the same thing; they explode and attack you.
Surprise and defensive attack happens if you don’t wear bear bells. If you are wearing bear bells and you come in range of a bear; the bear might be quietly picking berries and it hears this unwelcome sound of a human approaching. Instinctively, subconsciously, the bear moves down the berry bushes in the other direction because the bear does not want to be near the powerful human.
Is that what you are afraid of? Other people going away? Sneaking up on people only fools them for a little while. Be honest about who you are. Shed the furtive, covert, secretive and live openly. If the bear does not hear the human, if the human sneaks up on the bear, the bear is startled and attacks.
Perhaps in the past, someone told you that you need to take a backseat and let them lead. If you are a woman, others may have indicated that it is wrong, unfeminine for you to lead. And so, you cloak your charismatic leadership. But it does not go away. It is hidden, stuffed down.
Exercise your leadership
Own your power
Step up to the plate with your gifts
The bears will move away from you
This post was inspired by a Spring Break 2012 conversation with my daughter, Andrea. Andrea is a Christian anthropologist, fascinated (as am I) with philosophical discussions and what makes people tick. She also knows how to love and encourage more than anyone I know.
The story from my tombstone
Cat extracted herself from the pavement, like a frugal parent peeling fruit leather from the paper; anxious to get every morsel. “Geeeeeaawd!” she yowled, “Again? Five lives I have lived and you still want more? Why can’t I just lie down here on the asphalt and call it quits?”
“God isn’t finished with you yet!” barked Pluto from the door of Hades, “Out, out damned spot! Go get a life.”
“So when do I get the dog’s life?” mumbled Cat.
“I never even got to have a normal cat’s life. What happened to basking in the sun, purring languidly, stretching and strolling? Oh, I have done my share of arching my back and whipping my tail – and my share of mousing. There was that year of four and twenty deer mice I threatened to bake in a pie. Oh, yes, I used my keen ears for the cause of music and my instinctive sense of direction to get other people where they needed to go.
“There were masters who required me to play the part of Puss in Boots. There were times I wore the pants for tom. I have been aloof and unreachable, and have played the role of pretty much every molly in the world. I have foraged for my meals like an ally cat; licked and groomed and preened – and, been neat about my business, with or without the luxury of litter.
“Meouch, I even played the demeaning part of a dog; the come when I whistle, sit, jump, follow me like a puppy, role. What’s feline about that?
“Aaaah,” Cat purred, “there were two distinct and wonderful lives when I nursed my kittens and carried them by the scruff of the neck. I was good at that. I enjoyed it so much, I even carried around others’ offspring for a few seasons, including a new generation. It takes a village, you know.”
Often, I walk the narrow ridge atop the fence. In truth, I usually land on my feet when I fall. But, it’s those times when I get hit by a ton of bricks, or a two ton truck of slander and misunderstanding, that slay me.
Five lives I have lived – maybe six-I’ll have to get the count straight while I still have a life left to live to write about it. It has been an incredible journey.
My headstone: Always starting over – must have lived nine lives.
What does your headstone say?