Harmony Designed

Something to be thankful for

Some might say the fact that this year coming to an end is the best thing to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.

Could be.

Like you, I have experienced 2020 as a mind-numbing, head-spinning, heart-wrenching, faith-testing, and angst-ridden year.  

And yet.  

I find much to be thankful for this year.  Because, in spite of the horrendous challenges, it’s also been a year of deep thought and reckoning – within ourselves, our own communities, and our national community. We’ve had endless conversations about our personal values and character and why it all matters, what is our place in this world, what home really means, and how slowing down and closing in helped many of us to find joy in the smallest pleasures as if they were gifts from the gods (and they probably were).

I’ve heard more friends and others express childlike glee at watching birds out their window, or the emerging growth of newly planted seeds.  Together in technology-enabled gatherings, we’ve shared so many laughs, and some tears, made a few memories and mostly just “held” each other in ways that communicated “we’re here, we’re together, and it’ll be ok.”  On safe outings, we’ve explored neighborhood and community parks, Sunday drives and picnics even on a Monday or a Thursday.  And of course, all the cooking and baking and eating and streaming we could take in.  Good stuff for the soul, if not the belly.  

Simple and satisfying pleasures long forgotten and newly embraced.

We’ve learned – well, some of us have – to be more present in the everyday, in the communities in which we are members, and in the relationships that sustain us.  The reliance we have on each other has never been so pronounced. 

And then. There have been so many losses this year.  The sheer volume of lives lost or upended with little relief in sight is shocking and wrenching to our very core.  At least it should be.  Some loss was more personal than others.  People we loved, character in our country that we assumed was bedrock, relationships that changed or shifted downward right in front of us.  Losses all.  Heart and soul crushing.  

And still.

A wise prophet of our time, Mr. Springsteen, said recently about this time and age, “You learn to accept the world on its terms without giving up the belief that you can change the world. A successful adulthood includes the maturation of your thought process and very soul to the point where you understand the limits of life, without giving up on its possibilities.”

Love that. 

With this most favorite holiday upon us, we can still find possibility and much to be grateful for, even though our celebrations will look and feel very different. 

  • Being here tops the list, I have to say. With the health and safety of our loved ones alongside.
  • The grace we witness every single day in the countless health care workers risking their lives simply doing their jobs, in the teachers who carry on with little or no guidance or tools in order to continue bringing light and learning to their students so they don’t give up or lose their way; in the essential workers whose presence keeps doors open so we don’t go without.  And so many others that we carry in our grateful hearts always. 
  • Heck, I’m grateful for sitting in front of this laptop and finally feeling the desire to string a few words together, maybe even a sentence or two, into something of meaning (you be the judge).
  • And finally, Hope. A commodity that has wavered somewhat this year but that gives us the energy and fortitude to carry on with an open heart. 


We’ve a ways to go before we emerge safe and whole again, in more ways than physical.  This far in, there’s no looking back.  We will not emerge unscathed, but I know we will come through this better than before. Individually, and as a human community. 

So, let’s follow Bruce’s lead and accept where we’re at right now, with the belief and the commitment that we change the world forward – not back – to a place of possibility, for everyone.

That’s more than enough to be thankful for.

Till next time.  Happy Thanksgiving.

Judy

The older I get . . .

. . . the more I realize that every day is a gift.  Even these shelter-in-place days.  Maybe even more so because with no distractions, we come face-to-face with ourselves in ways we haven’t before.  It becomes increasingly clear what our priorities are and what we value most in this life.  Because those are the things – the people – that give our lives meaning and joy.

Now solidly into Week 4 of the shelter-in-place directive here in California, the mind-spinning sense of dread that kept creeping up on me seems to have dissipated . . . for the most part.  I find that if I keep my head in the “now” and focus on what I’m doing today and not tomorrow or any other day or time in the future, then I’m OK.  Even feeling pretty contented. And practicing gratitude about a million times a day.

I keep reading accounts of how people are filling their days and using this gift of time to try new things, to take on long-delayed projects, to spend more family time together, and using social media and technology to maintain and even grow connections with friends and loved ones.  It encourages me to hear how we’re exercising our imaginations, being more conscious of the resources we have, loving more fully, and perhaps using this time to do less and appreciate more. 

This is where I find hope.

I do wonder though what we’ll learn collectively from all this. I wonder if when the unknowingness eases, we’ll hang on to our renewed connections to each other? To a simpler, slower pace? To a focus on what truly matters?  To a more “we” orientation instead of an “us/them” attitude that has pervaded our most recent years in the U.S? Or will we merely retreat back into our over-scheduled, activity-packed, stress-filled and divided lives where we forget these lessons like yesterday’s breakfast. 

The optimist in me believes we’ll be altered for the better.  The cynic in me rolls her eyes.  I’m sticking with the optimist, and keeping expectations in check.

I just read an article written by a psychotherapist who talked about finding meaning in situations like this. She stressed that we should not sugar coat our current reality, but rather pay attention to what we’re gaining through what we’re experiencing, and with time and awareness, find meaning in the experience of this time.

The author quoted Viktor Frankl, the Holocaust survivor and psychiatrist from Vienna, who coined and defined the term “tragic optimism” as the ability to maintain hope and find meaning in life despite its inescapable pain, loss and suffering.  Mr. Frankl called it “the human capacity to creatively turn life’s negative aspects into something positive or constructive.”

I love that.  Coupled with all the stories of our best selves shining through right now and watching those of us reaching out to others and showing up in difficult situations to serve people in need – like all our frontline health care workers, grocery workers, and others – I can’t help but believe that the negative is turning into the positive right before our eyes.

While we most certainly won’t look back on this period as a good thing, perhaps we’ll remember how it helped us shift perspectives and find deeper meaning in our connections and in our simple, sometimes mundane, and yet beautiful everyday lives.

Here’s to holding fast, staying put, and watching and listening for the gift of meaning as we heal our way out of this.

Till next time, I wish you all that is good. Please stay safe.

Judy

Something to think about

Wisdom is earned through adversity. It can’t be bought. It must be earned.
Character is formed by overcoming the obstacles and adversity life throws our way.
Obstacles force us to grow, to shift, to evolve and to use our innate gifts and creativity to navigate around them.
Removing obstacles removes the opportunity for growth. Removing obstacles takes away our ability to learn the lessons for ourselves.
Too much comfort keeps us stuck in our comfort zone. A little discomfort, a tiny grain of sand, is the necessary impetus we need to push ourselves to transform our lives into a new way of being.
Change happens outside the comfort zone. Nothing changes until we change.

I have no idea where this came from.  When I find words that I love, whether a quote or a paragraph from a book or an article, I will squirrel them away to enjoy or to use in a blog post later.  I always add an attribution to them so I know and can share where they came from.  Unfortunately, wherever I found this, there must not have been a source noted. 

Wherever it came from, it resonated so strongly with what we’re going through now that I had to share it, with a few thoughts. 

In a conversation yesterday morning with a dear friend, she said something to the effect that perhaps this crazy, worldwide coronavirus pandemic that is sending shockwaves and panic and disbelief throughout the whole world has also brought us a gift. 

The gift she was talking about was time. Time to slow down and just be.  To stop rushing through life, to stop overscheduling ourselves and our kids, to stop passing up some of the simple moments of our lives. I love that . . . and I agree.  Especially because it’s affecting the whole world.  The optimist in me wants to believe – no, I choose to believe – that we will collectively come out better, stronger, and hopefully with a renewed sense of ourselves and a more peace-filled, loving approach to life going forward. 

Of course, we’re on day 3 of the required isolation for those of us of a certain age, so ask me again at week 3 and see if I’m still feeling this way.  (wink and a prayer)

It’s most important to stay connected. More online or phone conversations with the ones we love will help ease this isolation, for sure.  And at least for now, I’ll use the rest of the time to ponder the beautiful words above and believe that, to quote Robert Browning, “. . . the best is yet to be.”

I hope you’re all staying put and staying well.

Till next time,

Judy

Hunkering down

Since we saw no rain in February this year, it seems we’re getting caught up in March.  I love it.  Rainy days are good days to cozy up and . . . well, write, or read, watch a movie, or any number of inside activities.  Rain is insulating, it feels like Nature’s way to say “take a break.”

While the rain is nice and a good excuse to snuggle in, this crazy virus stuff is a whole other thing.  Another reason to hunker down for sure, albeit a bizarre and never-thought-I’d-see-the-day reason.

But reality is what reality is.  Might as well just deal with it.

So, Michael and I have taken all the precautions recommended – washing hands, limiting social outings with large groups, etc.  Other plans have been cancelled for us.  The world seems to be closing down.  On top of that, everything I read focuses on people over 60 being one of the groups most at risk. At first, I didn’t give it much thought.  But it’s been a relentless message, so, it finally hit me.  I’m in one of the groups at risk, merely due to my age!  Crap!

It’s kinda scary.  Even though my rational self knows “this too shall pass,” everything feels uncertain, unstable. So hard to wrap my head around it.  “Is this actually happening? Are we really shutting down our world, or so it seems? Should we worry?”

What to do.

As the saying goes, stay calm and carry on.  Except that the “carry on” part has to be limited and curtailed quite a bit.  Might as well make the most of a bad, truly bad, situation.  Here’s an opportunity to seriously try out that “slow living” thing that always sounds so good and so healthy and so peaceful.  OK, we’ll give it a go.  Stay close to home. Putter about. Work on projects. Catch up on reading.  Maybe a nap or two.  Movies are good.  Try some new and/or favorite recipes. And hey, let’s put up the card table and cover it with a jigsaw puzzle! (Oh yeah, Michael was thrilled with that one.  Not.) 

And let’s be grateful for modern technology right about now.  At least we can easily and frequently catch up and connect with our people.  Talk about giving us a heightened sense of what our priorities are. 

Whatever you come up with to keep yourself healthy, safe, and somewhat entertained, I wish you more of that.  And please share.  

Till next time,

Judy 

A convergence

I’m about to experience a convergence in my own life.  

First, I am quickly approaching another birthday.

Second, I’m almost at the third anniversary of my retirement.

Third, the end of another year and the start of a new one is just around the corner.

While these events might not necessarily meet at the same time exactly, their close occurrence has me taking a step back to pause and reflect.  Taking a bit of time to absorb the life all around me, you could say.

This time around, however, has me looking back a bit further – more than I have before — at old times, memories, experiences. So many of which had a significant impact on my life, and on me.  This makes me melancholy some days, almost to the point of tears, but with a sweet undertone of gratitude for the experience, and especially for the people that made those memories with me.  

Even more lovely is sharing some of those times with loved ones.  Especially youngers.  We’ve had several days with grandkids and grown kids recently, which gave us lots of opportunities to share a few old memories and lessons.  Grandkids are so inquisitive these days.  It felt good to give old times new life, at least for a moment.

Recently, a friend and I were talking about how often we’re both thinking about past times, feeling them out for any new lesson or perspective they might hold for us.  Sort of an excavation of sorts.  Are there any new lessons to be explored? Any new insights that might apply in our lives now?  

Do you ever feel that urge to look back at different times and experiences and to see them from the perspective of who you are today?  It’s a good exercise in forgiveness – especially of yourself.  Funny how many of the mistakes of the past just dissolve when seen through older, more experienced eyes. And the events we thought of as life-altering, once-in-a-lifetime, never-getting-over-this are barely remembered. Or turned out to be the best thing that could’ve happened.  Hindsight and time are so wise.

This coming convergence of mine is really just a small collection of markers of time.  A birthday, an anniversary, and a shiny new year.  The passing of time and a time to begin again.

In honor of this so-called convergence, I’ll take a moment to reflect and enjoy special times once more, and then move on.  After all, the present is what matters most, and these events call for some celebrating. So, I’ll hold my memories close but my todays closer. 

Till next time,

Judy