A good book...

A good book on my lap. A quiet afternoon.  Perfect.

The compass...

I bought a compass for my son as a graduation gift for completing college.  I found it in an antique store a year ago when I was walking by myself in the small town of Arles, France.   I don’t normally buy these things which I consider an extravagance. In this case, however, I wanted something that signified the confidence I had in him for the young man he was and the adult man he was becoming.

The owner of this small shop said the compass had belonged to a sailor who used it over a hundred years ago when at sea. He said the compass guided the ship in the direction in which it was meant to go.  

My son loves these things which are quite old and have held up to the test of time.  I hope he will hold this compass as a symbol of the direction he has chosen to take in life; to remain a man who is strong, steadfast and true.  Headed in the right direction in which he is meant to go.

Early riser...

I am an early riser.  I used to describe myself as an early to bed, early to rise type of girl, but such is not the case anymore.  It hasn’t been this way for several years.  I’m tired when I go to bed.  Experts tell us that for good sleep hygiene we need to adhere to a schedule.  Go to bed at say 10 pm and rise at 6 am.  The thing is, I go to bed at 10 pm but just as I begin to relax enough to doze, my mind begins to think of all of the things I have yet to do or to say on paper. So, I open my notebook and begin to write of things I have experienced, thought of or things which have transpired in my day.

Today it was the woman who was in the memory care unit in the assisted living where my mother resides.  I walked around the circle to my mother’s room and as I glanced to my left (this is where the door to memory care is secured) there was a woman who was gently pounding on the door.  She mouthed, “Get me out of here.” I stopped in the hallway, unsure of what to do.  I knew I couldn’t help her, both in a physical sense and in the emotional sense.  She wanted out of there.  Was she referring to the memory care unit or to the disorganization which dementia now caused?

Tonight, I lay in bed thinking about that woman.  Was there some way I might have helped to decrease her fear, her cries for help of things imagined?  Perhaps not, perhaps so.  My mind then thinks about my mother, now spared the inevitability of that move to memory care.  I do not want her to become that woman standing on the other side of the door. 

Stars...

I went for a long walk late last night which isn’t like me.  Meaning I do enjoy a long walk, but typically not late at night, or not at night at all. I stopped in a small patch of grass and sat down to look at the stars. As cliché as it sounds, I realized how small we all are in our existence in the universe.  As humans, we see everything in relation to ourselves. With self-assured hubris we know this to be the case. In reality, this is not so. The stars are not above us. In the infinite universe, we are beneath them.   

Here is the thing about love...

Here is the thing about love.  You don’t love someone because you feel validated nor love someone because they complete you. (Shouldn't you be whole in and of yourself?). It isn't a complicated thing. You simply love someone because you love them.   If you are one of the fortunate few to love someone, to really love them, you realize that they hold a piece of your heart.  For me, those who I  love live deep in my heart, where only my soul and God reside. 

Simple, quiet, happy...

This life is transient.  Spiritual thought leaders tell us that in the infinite universe our entire lives are equal to 30 minutes. The blink of an eye.  When I consider that I review, I briefly scan how I have lived my life thus far. It seems I was just a small girl.  Now I am a woman in middle age.  I do not take a large amount of time reviewing the past however. Doing so is not warranted.  Buddha teaches us that to live in the past is to carry a raft after crossing the river.  I do not wish to carry that raft.

Perhaps the genesis of my letting go of the past, being mindful of the present yet planning the next steps are due to my present circumstances.  I am in the middle of my life.  Some may argue that I am past that marker as I have lived 55 years.  My father has left this earth over 12 years ago, my mother is deteriorating due to dementia and my son is soon to launch into onto his own.  It is time for me to move forward.

I must take responsibility for living my best life. As such, I have chosen to let go of those material things which do not matter.  I have let go of things, circumstances and people who do not serve me. Soon I will sell the majority of my belongings (my furniture, my car, my household things). I will store those things which really matter: photos of family and friends, my son’s things from birth to present. 

I am moving to Portugal along with my 2 animals.  Portugal is exquisite. It is beautiful with its rocky Western coast along the North Atlantic Ocean and the warm Mediterranean climate in the South. It is steeped in old world European charm.  Moreover, it is safe for a single woman and it is quite inexpensive as compared to the U.S.  I will be able to live a very good lifestyle on a modest income. I will take public transportation instead of dealing with a car. Lastly, it is a place in which my family and friends will be able to visit me and share in the beauty of this place and its people.

I will be living my life as I see fit.  Few possessions/many experiences.  Simple, quiet, happy.

A good heart...

The last thing my dad said to me before

he passed away: "You have a good heart."

Unfinished business...

Recently I began reading a wonderful book. It was uncanny when I read this quote. Just the other day I had a discussion with a friend. We talked about the intergenerational passing down of behaviors. An individual can make or not make the choice to continue these behaviors or break them.

“I once interviewed a New Age guru who spoke about how unfinished business from ancestors can trickle down to generations twice, even three times, removed. Actions in the present can help to correct the mistakes made in the past. And even if there is no absolution to be had, an understanding may help keep the same mistake from being repeated.”   ― Sejal Badani, The Storyteller's Secret

A good book...

I recently had a lunch date with a nice

man I had met while buying a cup of

coffee.  We talked about what we enjoyed

doing in our spare time.  He ticked off a

few things.  I asked him if he enjoyed reading

a  good book. He replied that he never "got" people 

who felt compelled to so.  I was quiet as I wasn't

sure how to respond.

A few days later he called and asked if I

had time to grab a cup of coffee again. I told

him I couldn't. I was enjoying reading 

a good book.

Yoga is the medicine for living...

Yoga is the medicine for living.

Because she is at peace, so am I.

My sweet dog, Sadie, is laying in the crook of my arm
 as I  am writing this night.

Because she is at peace, so am I.

The degree to which you love...

I have been thinking seriously about living in Portugal for the next few years as an expat. I wouldn't give up my U.S. citizenship and would return to Texas often to visit. Since I have considered this move, I worried about being far away from those I loved. Always one with sage advice, one quite close to me said that proximity does not determine the degree to which you love. I do believe he is right.

Perfectly imperfect...

The older I get, and I think the older

 we get, I realize we are imperfect.

Perfectly imperfect.

A wonderful day...

I am the type of person who wakes up at 5 a.m. at the latest no matter what time I go to bed.  This has been the case for years.  This week I had a migraine lurking just below the surface and was severe enough that I had auras. Periodic flashes of light I don’t like to take my medication, Imitrex, because the side effects are nearly as bad as the migraine.Exhausted, I went to bed last night at 9 pm and woke up at 10 am without the lurking migraine. I hadn’t slept this deeply and this long for years.  I was able to do my Hatha yoga then had brunch with a dear friend I hadn’t seen in a few weeks.  When I came home, I read for several hours and then watched a PBS special “The Homefront” which focused upon veterans and their families who are impacted by the absence of their loved one who is called to serve a tour overseas.

It was a calm, quiet, low key day.  My favorite type of day.  A wonderful day.

They helped me...

I began going to the VA for medical care several years ago despite having other health care options. I wanted the opportunity to meet other vets and hear their stories. It is true that there are sometimes long wait times before being seen, but I enjoy meeting other vets while doing so. I also must add that the health care practitioners are, without a doubt, the most skilled and the most invested in patients' care I have ever experienced. Last year I decided to volunteer to lead a group for vets experiencing PTSD. I began doing so in the hope in some way I would be able to help them. I soon realized, however, that the opposite was true. By helping them, they helped me.

Every dreamer knows...

 I was conversing with a friend the other day and

I told her that I wanted to move to Portugal in a

few years to live as an ex-pat.  Not to give up my U.S.

citizenship, but to get my residency visa and live there

for several years.  She asked me how I knew this was 

where I intended to live as I had never been there. 

I told her that I had researched it and I would know

more after my trip there in December. 

The truth is that I know, intuitively, that this is

where I need to be.

When reading last night, I stumbled upon a quote

which sums it up perfectly.

That is just how the universe works...

If you treat people with kindness,
 the same will be returned to you.
 That is just how the universe works.

5 + 2 +1 = 8 pieces (a whole) pie…

If I were to divide how I felt about you into pieces of a pie,

and there were 8 pieces, I would say there were 5 pieces I loved,

2 pieces I felt lukewarm about,

and 1 piece that was not my favorite.

If I’m correct in my math, I do believe those pieces would

add up to 8 pieces (a whole pie).

I had always lived my life...

I had always lived my life as was expected.  I executed each step flawlessly, to create what was deemed to be the perfect life.  Every rung up the ladder seemed to validate my place.  I ticked off every box which society demanded. The power in my accomplishments were contingent upon the height of each achievement.  The thing is that this seeming perfection may be an illusion and its resultant power a liability.

My Aunt Doris brushing my hair...

I remember the one time someone brushed my hair.  It wasn’t by my sister, my mother or my grandmother.  In fact, I had never had this done before. I was in high school when my Great Aunt Doris, my mother’s aunt, visited us in St. Louis. 

From the time I was a young girl, I was fortunate to be able to spend a few weeks each summer with my grandparents in this quiet, rural Iowa town. Bedford was idyllic in many ways: the red bricked streets with high curbs, the trees which bowed their branches over most streets, the slow pace in which the town seemed to move. Despite this idyllic environment, there was a tension that belied the seemingly smooth service, at least in my family. My grandmother had long standing issues with her sister in law, my Aunt Doris.  I am uncertain as to the specifics of these grudges held, but they resulted in my grandmother refusing to let me see my Aunt Doris when I visited.

I knew of Aunt Doris’ kindness, however, by the stories my mother told.  I knew of her strength and her character.  Several years after my grandmother passed, my aunt traveled to St. Louis to visit our family.  One late evening we were all sitting in the living room.  It was the night before my aunt was to return to Bedford, Iowa.  We were chatting, involved in idle conversation.  I was sitting on the floor as the rest of the seats were taken by adults.  My Aunt Doris asked me to go and get my brush.  She placed a pillow from the couch at her feet and patted it, taking the brush.  I had long hair at the time and she began brushing it, slowly from the crown of my head.  She did so gently and with much attention.  It felt calming and had the soothing effect which was very much needed by me as a teenager in high school.  Somehow my Aunt Doris knew this.  She was always quite intuitive this way; sensing what people needed before they knew themselves. 

I will always remember my Aunt Doris brushing my hair.  It was done out of love, intimately, from one woman to another. It was a gift from her to me. One I will always cherish.