TRUE ELDER-NESS

Getting OLD…… hmmm.  Sometimes you encounter a sense that it is all hard: Creaking stiff limbs and failing health, loss of our more vital lives and identities, financial worries, and the parade of deaths of our friends and family.

I recently came upon some quotes that might lead us to alter that impression.  There are many reasons that the last third of our lives can be quite stellar.  If we are doing the work of growing our emotional and spiritual lives, there can be such reward during this period.

In our youth and mid lives we can explore the outer world and learn about ourselves by traveling and challenging our careers, our minds, our bodies and it is wonderfully fulfilling, life altering, satisfying, and defining.   This next part of our lives truly asks for a more internal journey. The tasks that can help us achieve this as outlined in “Analysis with the Aged”, in the book Jungian Analysis by Murray Stein are as follows:

1)      Face the realities of aging and you eventual death.  Our awareness of the limited time left to us allows for a deeper, more meaningful engagement with our world, activities and people.

2)    Take some time to remember your life, write a memoir, talk to people about your experiences, write in a journal, make letters to leave after your death.  These things all allow us to be seen, and this allows us to move forward and be more present.

3)    Do some evaluation of where our time and energies are spent.  Reset limits.  As we let go of old obligations and aspirations, we can use our attention and energy on what is now our real focus and what is actually achievable.

4)   Work through the parts of us needing to impress others.  Letting go of the exhausting job of creating a persona for others.  Becoming more visible as we are and being less bound by ego.

5)    Listening in a deeper way to what I have talked about as the “call”.  It is the still small voice.  Seeking wholeness, blending our understanding of our conscious and our unconscious presence, being receptive to our own mysteries and those of our world.

6)    See your own patterns, make efforts to step outside them, seek understand of your true path and your particular reason for living, and then step onto that path.

7)    Tap your creative energies.  Explore ways to express your experience of living.  Is who you have been in your life, i.e. the mask you have been wearing a good fit?  If not how can you express yourself differently and with more resonance to your late-in-life self.  Explore the arts, and begin to see your own life as a painting, a novel, a dance.  Allowing the living itself to becomes an art, not a business.  The unexpected can be the material of exploration.

I have gathered some quotes regarding Aging that I thought you might enjoy:

There’s many a good tune played on an old fiddle.   Samuel Butler

We grow neither better nor worse as we get old, but more like ourselves.  Mary Lamberton Becker

Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.  Kafka

The advice of the aged will not mislead you.  Welsh Proverb

For let me tell you, that the more the pleasures of the body fade away, the greater to me is the pleasure and charm of conversation.  Plato

Old age is ripeness.  American Proverb

It takes a long time to become young.  Pablo Picasso

It is only when we truly know and understand that we have a limited time on earth==and that we have no way of knowing when our time is up==that we will begin to live each day to the fullest, as if it were the only one we had.  Elizabeth Kubler-Ross

Every age has it’s beautiful moments.  Albert Einstein

I enjoy my wrinkles and regard them as badges of distinction-I have worked hard to get them.  Maggie Kuhn

I could be well content/ To entertain the lag-end of my life/ With quiet hours.

William Shakespeare

There is a fountain of youth:  it is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring to your life and the lives of the people you love.  When you learn to tap this source, you will have truly defeated age.  Sophia Loren

It is wrong to think of old age as a downward slope.  One the contrary, one climbs higher and higher with the advancing years, and that, too, with surprising strides.  Brainwork comes as easily to the old as physical exertion to the child. One is moving, it is true towards the end of life, but that end is now a goal, and not a reef in which the vessel may be dashed.  George Sand

The closing years of life are like the end of a masquerade party, when he masks are dropped.  Arthur Schopenhauer

One should never count the years—one shold instead count one’s interests.  I have kept young trying never to lose my childhood sense of wonderment.  I am glad I still have a vivid curiosity about the world I live in.  Helen Keller

To know how to grow old is the master work of wisdom, and one of the most difficult  chapters in the great art of living.  Henri Frederick Amiel

Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or gistering wrong.  Charlotte Bronte

Life is half spent before one knows what is it.  French Proverb

Old places and old persons in their turn, when spirit dwells in them, have an intrinsic vitality of which youth is incapable precisely, the balance and wisdom that comes from long perspectives and broad foundations.  George Santayana

For the unlearned, old age is winter; for the learned it is the season of the harvest.  The Talmud

Expressing your enthusiasms can add years of creative life to your time on earth.  Benard Baruch

One has only to grow old to become more tolerant.  I see no fault that I might not have committed myself.  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

One should be explorers, be curious, risk transgression, explore oldness itself.  T.S. Eliot

Life does not accommodate you.  It shatters you.  It is meant to, and it couldn’t do it better.  Every seeds destroys it’s container or else there would be no fruition.  Florida Scott-Maxwell

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.   Maya Angelou 

Whatever your age, may you celebrate your OLDNESS today and be in it!  

                        Blessings to you all, Misty June 13, 2014 

WHAT KIND OF KINDNESS?

Following is an eight minute commencement address given by George Saunders, one of America’s best novelists. I find it very meaningful and inspiring. I suspect you will also.

                               Some Thoughts on Kindness.

Down through the ages, a traditional form has evolved for this type of speech, which is: Some old fart, his best years behind him, who, over the course of his life, has made a series of dreadful mistakes (that would be me), gives heartfelt advice to a group of shining, energetic young people, with all of their best years ahead of them (that would be you).

And I intend to respect that tradition.

Now, one useful thing you can do with an old person, in addition to borrowing money from them, or asking them to do one of their old-time “dances,” so you can watch, while laughing, is ask: “Looking back, what do you regret?” And they’ll tell you. Sometimes, as you know, they’ll tell you even if you haven’t asked. Sometimes, even when you’ve specifically requested they not tell you, they’ll tell you.

So: What do I regret? Being poor from time to time? Not really. Working terrible jobs, like “knuckle-puller in a slaughterhouse?” (And don’t even ASK what that entails.) No. I don’t regret that. Skinny-dipping in a river in Sumatra, a little buzzed, and looking up and seeing like 300 monkeys sitting on a pipeline, pooping down into the river, the river in which I was swimming, with my mouth open, naked? And getting deathly ill afterwards, and staying sick for the next seven months? Not so much. Do I regret the occasional humiliation? Like once, playing hockey in front of a big crowd, including this girl I really liked, I somehow managed, while falling and emitting this weird whooping noise, to score on my own goalie, while also sending my stick flying into the crowd, nearly hitting that girl? No. I don’t even regret that.

But here’s something I do regret:

In seventh grade, this new kid joined our class. In the interest of confidentiality, her Convocation Speech name will be “ELLEN.” ELLEN was small, shy. She wore these blue cat’s-eye glasses that, at the time, only old ladies wore. When nervous, which was pretty much always, she had a habit of taking a strand of hair into her mouth and chewing on it.

So she came to our school and our neighborhood, and was mostly ignored, occasionally teased (“Your hair taste good?” — that sort of thing). I could see this hurt her. I still remember the way she’d look after such an insult: eyes cast down, a little gut-kicked, as if, having just been reminded of her place in things, she was trying, as much as possible, to disappear. After awhile she’d drift away, hair-strand still in her mouth. At home, I imagined, after school, her mother would say, you know: “How was your day, sweetie?” and she’d say, “Oh, fine.” And her mother would say, “Making any friends?” and she’d go, “Sure, lots.”

Sometimes I’d see her hanging around alone in her front yard, as if afraid to leave it.

And then — they moved. That was it. No tragedy, no big final hazing.

One day she was there, next day she wasn’t.

End of story.

Now, why do I regret that? Why, forty-two years later, am I still thinking about it? Relative to most of the other kids, I was actually pretty nice to her. I never said an unkind word to her. In fact, I sometimes even (mildly) defended her.

But still. It bothers me.

So here’s something I know to be true, although it’s a little corny, and I don’t quite know what to do with it:

What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness.

Those moments when another human being was there, in front of me, suffering, and I responded . . . sensibly. Reservedly. Mildly.

Or, to look at it from the other end of the telescope: Who, in your life, do you remember most fondly, with the most undeniable feelings of warmth?

Those who were kindest to you, I bet.

It’s a little facile, maybe, and certainly hard to implement, but I’d say, as a goal in life, you could do worse than: Try to be kinder.

Now, the million-dollar question: What’s our problem? Why aren’t we kinder?

Here’s what I think:

Each of us is born with a series of built-in confusions that are probably somehow Darwinian. These are: (1) we’re central to the universe (that is, our personal story is the main and most interesting story, the only story, really); (2) we’re separate from the universe (there’s US and then, out there, all that other junk – dogs and swing-sets, and the State of Nebraska and low-hanging clouds and, you know, other people), and (3) we’re permanent (death is real, o.k., sure – for you, but not for me).

Now, we don’t really believe these things – intellectually we know better – but we believe them viscerally, and live by them, and they cause us to prioritize our own needs over the needs of others, even though what we really want, in our hearts, is to be less selfish, more aware of what’s actually happening in the present moment, more open, and more loving.

So, the second million-dollar question: How might we DO this? How might we become more loving, more open, less selfish, more present, less delusional, etc., etc?

Well, yes, good question.

Unfortunately, I only have three minutes left.

So let me just say this. There are ways. You already know that because, in your life, there have been High Kindness periods and Low Kindness periods, and you know what inclined you toward the former and away from the latter. Education is good; immersing ourselves in a work of art: good; prayer is good; meditation’s good; a frank talk with a dear friend; establishing ourselves in some kind of spiritual tradition — recognizing that there have been countless really smart people before us who have asked these same questions and left behind answers for us.

Because kindness, it turns out, is hard — it starts out all rainbows and puppy dogs, and expands to include . . . well, everything.

One thing in our favor: some of this “becoming kinder” happens naturally, with age. It might be a simple matter of attrition: as we get older, we come to see how useless it is to be selfish — how illogical, really. We come to love other people and are thereby counter-instructed in our own centrality. We get our butts kicked by real life, and people come to our defense, and help us, and we learn that we’re not separate, and don’t want to be. We see people near and dear to us dropping away, and are gradually convinced that maybe we too will drop away (someday, a long time from now). Most people, as they age, become less selfish and more loving. I think this is true. The great Syracuse poet, Hayden Carruth, said, in a poem written near the end of his life, that he was “mostly Love, now.”

And so, a prediction, and my heartfelt wish for you: as you get older, your self will diminish and you will grow in love. YOU will gradually be replaced by LOVE. If you have kids, that will be a huge moment in your process of self-diminishment. You really won’t care what happens to YOU, as long as they benefit. That’s one reason your parents are so proud and happy today. One of their fondest dreams has come true: you have accomplished something difficult and tangible that has enlarged you as a person and will make your life better, from here on in, forever.

Congratulations, by the way.

When young, we’re anxious — understandably — to find out if we’ve got what it takes. Can we succeed? Can we build a viable life for ourselves? But you — in particular you, of this generation — may have noticed a certain cyclical quality to ambition. You do well in high-school, in hopes of getting into a good college, so you can do well in the good college, in the hopes of getting a good job, so you can do well in the good job so you can . . .

And this is actually O.K. If we’re going to become kinder, that process has to include taking ourselves seriously — as doers, as accomplishers, as dreamers. We have to do that, to be our best selves.

Still, accomplishment is unreliable. “Succeeding,” whatever that might mean to you, is hard, and the need to do so constantly renews itself (success is like a mountain that keeps growing ahead of you as you hike it), and there’s the very real danger that “succeeding” will take up your whole life, while the big questions go untended.

So, quick, end-of-speech advice: Since, according to me, your life is going to be a gradual process of becoming kinder and more loving: Hurry up. Speed it along. Start right now. There’s a confusion in each of us, a sickness, really: selfishness. But there’s also a cure. So be a good and proactive and even somewhat desperate patient on your own behalf — seek out the most efficacious anti-selfishness medicines, energetically, for the rest of your life.

Do all the other things, the ambitious things — travel, get rich, get famous, innovate, lead, fall in love, make and lose fortunes, swim naked in wild jungle rivers (after first having it tested for monkey poop) – but as you do, to the extent that you can, err in the direction of kindness. Do those things that incline you toward the big questions, and avoid the things that would reduce you and make you trivial. That luminous part of you that exists beyond personality — your soul, if you will — is as bright and shining as any that has ever been. Bright as Shakespeare’s, bright as Gandhi’s, bright as Mother Teresa’s. Clear away everything that keeps you separate from this secret luminous place. Believe it exists, come to know it better, nurture it, share its fruits tirelessly.

And someday, in 80 years, when you’re 100, and I’m 134, and we’re both so kind and loving we’re nearly unbearable, drop me a line, let me know how your life has been. I hope you will say: It has been so wonderful.

Congratulations, Class of 2013.

I wish you great happiness, all the luck in the world, and a beautiful summer.  





Have a kind day.  Misty  June 3, 2014

LIFTING THE VEILS

Please enjoy the following pieces of sculpture, mostly of the 18th century.  Amazing work with the substance of granite.  These days might only know see this great stone on kitchen counters, cut into slabs and shined to a high polish.  These artists allowed themselves to be challenged by a medium in which there is no addition, only subtraction.

                                       Giovanni Strazza, Nineteenth Century




We might imagine, we might play with the idea that our lives can be looked at as medium.  The mass, the material with which we are allowed to create.

                                                      If we take away just enough,

                                                   Being careful...

                                          Seeing deeply beneath the surface of things...

                 We might escape the layers of mess and mire to see the beauty beneath.

This is a monument to the father of Prince Raimondo Sangro Antonio 1685-1787.  It is called Freedom of the Spell c. 1787 by Franschesko Kvirolo

These last two by Lorenzo Bernini, depicting the abduction of Persephone.

Can you not almost feel the skin, hear their breath or breathless energy?








How will this inspire you today?
                29-05-14

LONGING FOR BELONGING

The Oxford English Dictionary defines longing as a yearning desire.  Belonging  defined variously as  1) Circumstances or relations connected with a person, thing or event.  2)  Possessions or goods.  
3) One's family, tribe or relatives, and 4) The state of having properties appropriate to something.





It has been written by people wiser than I, that all human longing is desire for Spirit, spirituality, God energy, Oneness, a whole greater than ourselves..  I personally always think of spirituality as that which evokes a sense of  belonging.   By this definition it could mean, a place, a group of people, an attitude and energy, an ideology.

Our search for love is being driven by a need for a greater/deeper connection.  So how do we find it?

Answering these questions may get you closer:   Where is home?  In what places do I find myself at peace and content?  What qualities are existent in the friends and family that I cherish the most?  Are there groups of people with whom I feel a sense of belonging?

Common as it is to struggle a bit with belonging, I believe that there are threads, paths and portals into this knowledge.  If you have been particularly isolated, now is the time to start saying YES to invitations.  Ask your world, your people to invite you to things that they love, or that move or nurture them.  




It may not be a direct route, but certainly an interesting journey.  If seeking spiritual roots, keep trying new and different-to-you spiritual events.  Some will resonate more than others, follow those leads.




Also if on the search for more belonging, keep trying new activities of all kinds…sports, environments, events, books. 

The broad space of artistic expression leads to passionate places, emotional resonance and works on our ability to see things from different perspectives.






Home for me is the ocean.  Someone asked me that question a few years ago and the answer popped out of my mouth before I could even think of it.  I am always content there, peaceful, cradled somehow in both the vision, sound and sight of it.  

As for human qualities I resonate to creative, sometimes irreverent, playful, gratitudinal folks.  Specific groups might be theater people, animal lovers, people who enjoy the arts, gardeners.. grounded folks, but light energy.





Make your lists, then head out….. and don't stop until you find some… and then plant yourself for awhile in the joy of that.

blessings, Misty
Saturday May 24th, 2014
Los Osos, California

MINDING THE EDGES

I started swimming again on Friday.  I didn’t all winter because the pool got too cold but with our recent heat wave (It was 102 here on the coast) all is toasty again in the pool.  I swim for about an hour doing the breast stroke.  I love the balance of it and how it looks in the water.  I know I can’t see it when I swim but my dancer mind has a good imagination.  Anyway, I got in my lap lane, got my goggles on, and dove in and began my strokes.   I found that I was often catching a bit of water in my mouth.  Not doing this thing for about six months had blown my timing.  It took me about 15 minutes to make a lap without missing the right edge of the water.  It got me thinking about edges of things.

Sometimes they are so important that perfection is almost necessary. Sometimes we need things a bit blurry, almost like squinting your eyes to see better.

Later the same day I was looking at a wall hanging that I had found at a garage sale.  I loved the shapes but it had big triangles of mustard yellow and a field of yellow upon which the main figure rested.  Since I am rarely liking that color, I found some red and green fabric dye and mixed some up with hot water and decided I would just use a paintbrush to put it on.  I knew it wouldn’t be an exact edge, but I kind of wanted a more rustic, aged look as I was going to hang it in my patio.  I kind of reveled in being messy.  I didn’t get the perfect lines along the geometric shapes, and some of the paint ran a bit.  But when I stood back to look at it.  It was PERFECT!

In swimming, the edge between the lip of water and my lips has to be very precise for maximum glide.  Too much of a head raise slowed me down, too little and I was taking in water. Hard to know just where to put oneself.   

I know this isn’t an earth shaking thought, but I did muse on the maker of the weaving and how beauty for him or her was probably based on no mistakes, perfect edges, but later than same object made so precisely could now be beautiful in a messier looser way.

 

I suppose there are a few things to extrapolate from

this.  First, at my age, I shouldn’t stop swimming for six months.  Second, it is good remember that things are what they are for NOW.  How we see something, use something or want something will probably be very different later on. 

We do tend to want things to remain the same, as it adds to our illusion of safety and control, but letting things go the way they need to go can be wonderful too. Adjusting ourselves to now, moving in on what is being asked in this moment, listening to something other than the old patterned thought of what we should do… can be lovely.

Have a good week.  Misty

May 18, 2014

MOTHERING COUNTRIES

I  have recently been grieving the loss of two close friends.  One I have known for 48 years and the other for under 20.

Both were somewhat sudden, the loss slicing into me like sharp knives.  The initial numbness leading to that stinging high pitched note of pain.  Each of these people held very different locations in my time, my history and I in theirs. I am struck by the stark differences in those places.

How could there be such separate and disparate zones within me that could each house whole acres of relationship unknown to the other?  We are rich with love. We are rich with our inner diversity.  We have space to entertain tribes and clans of folk in our inner world.  Each deep connection to another human nurtures and mothers our core, our direction, our compassion, and our outlook. Each, like our mothers, take  us on enormous and important excursions.

We have the ability to travel to those delicious sidings and stopovers and challenging treks.  These are vast undiscovered countries whose passports we are only given in specific and particular relationships.  These are places we could not visit without that other person by our elbow or within our minds and hearts.

Find those people.  Cherish those people.  Celebrate the continents that you are allowed to visit in the realm of your friendship.

Hold the images close to your sensibility and relish the sweetness of the journey.

It is all passing.  I like to think that when I reach end, that my human passport will be filled with a myriad of stamps and visas from long lists of sweet friendship.

Blessings and peace to you on this Mother's Day, 2014.  Misty