Quaratine thoughts

Amid the fear, the confusion, 

the isolation, the loss of routine
and the quietness of formerly occupied spaces, 

what I can't get over is the constant realization 

that we have never been more together. 

All of us,

across the entire world.

At random moments during these long days of quarantine, 

I stop and think of people I know,

people I used to know,

famous people I've never met who don't know I exist,

people I know living in other countries,

those who live across oceans

or just across state lines.

We're all living modified versions of the same reality.

We're absorbing the same anxieties.

We're facing the same hurdles and asking similar questions.

Never in my lifetime has this happened before.

Nothing even close.

Our present reality doesn't care what religion we practice,

or how much money we have (or don't have).

It doesn't care about our politics, 

education, orientation, age, zip-code or time zone.

It's no respecter of schedules, deadlines or events.

We are all in it together

and we are all going to lose something.

(Please God, let our loss be a something 

and not a someone).

Ironically, at a time when we've never been more closed off from the world,

we've also never been more connected.

If there was ever any doubt that we belong to each other,

right now is when it shatters.

The Lakota call it Mitakuye oyasin,

we are all related;
and the truth of it brings me up short
and makes me catch my breath.

Things are hard and hearts are breaking,

but I keep looking up at the sky,

knowing you're doing the same.

I'll feel you out there, 

and yet somehow right here,
the same as me,

and it will help.

It already does.

A phone call from my son

I would have sworn I had gotten the message by now.

I didn’t think the universe would need to keep reminding me that I’m not in control.

Apparently God thought I needed another reminder.

I used to think it was hard being the single parent of two young boys.

I’m not sure why I used the past tense;

it WAS hard being the single parent of two young boys.

What I didn’t fully appreciate and couldn’t fully comprehend until I got here 

is how hard it can be being the single parent of two adult men - 

to see them struggle with life choices; 

those that occur randomly through forces over which they have no control

 and those that are the natural consequences of choices they’ve made.

At least when they were young there was the illusion of control; 

the feeling however delusional 

that I could modify circumstances to mitigate the harm.

With fully functioning and independent adults, however, 

after I’ve offered my thoughts and observations - IF asked, 

there’s nothing to do but step back and watch it unfold.

THAT, my friends is infinitely harder.

I found a poem today after a phone call from my son and it made me catch my breath.

Life is amazing. And then its awful

And then its amazing again

And in between the amazing

and the awful, it’s ordinary

and mundane and routine.

Breathe in the amazing,

hold on through the awful,

and relax and exhale

during the ordinary.

That's just living, heartbreaking,

soul-healing, amazing

awful, ordinary life.

And it's breathtakingly beautiful.

LR Knost.

I’m here, holding on-

waiting for the ordinary and the amazing 

to begin again.

Retirement, Take Two

I've been wrestling.

Conjures up images, doesn't it? 

No, my current wrestling has been harder.

As might have been predicted, 

my furlough during the global pandemic has proven to be a giant 'reset' button.

 I'm on my third week at home,
living with the latest reality check from the universe
that my time is finite.

If you're old (I am), immuno-compromised (also check)

and you're lucky enough to survive (so far, so good),

it forces you to think of everything you still want to do
with your allotted time on this earth.

Turns out my list is rather short:
 
1) Spend more time with children, grandchild, extended family and friends.

2) Read;
finally get to the stacks of books that have been waiting patiently

 - in some cases, for years.

3) Travel.
While I think international trips are off the table now, for a variety of reasons,

taking a national road trip with my dog is a distinct possibility.

I love long distance driving;
I find it meditative and relaxing,
at least when done during daylight hours.
My time of driving straight through to a destination at night is over.

Two particularly appealing options, at the moment, are driving to every National Park

 and/or

a tour of every 'Springfield' in the country

(no, I'm not a Simpsons fan);

it's just that the quixotic and whimsical aspect of that road trip appeals to me.

Should I get truly crazy,

I could always overlay the maps on top each other.

4) Learn to crochet.

I still haven't and I still want to.

5) Take more photos.

6) Be a better steward of my garden.
The 'good bones' it had in a previous reincarnation have all but disappeared
but, with time and care, it could be marginally presentable again.
(With age, you set smaller goals;
the garden resuming its previous splendor isn't on the table.)

Note to self: be sure to leave untamed areas where my grandson
can continue to dig for dinosaur bones and 'go on treasure hunts' in the wild.

You'll notice, as I did, that working at the hospital
is nowhere on the list.

The first time I retired, 

I knew beyond doubt that it was the right thing to do
and the right time to do it.
(see here if you're not aware of the story)

 I guess, I'm just used to the dramatic.
I mean, seriously, I heard directly from God the first time around;
it doesn't get more intense than that.

When I was complaining to a friend
 that I didn't have the blinding clarity this time,
he replied,"God, you're high maintenance.
How many mountaintop experiences do you think one person gets?
Besides, you don't think a global pandemic that threatens your very existence
is enough of a burning bush to warrant your attention"?

Point taken.

And, in actuality, I don't need a burning bush.

When this week ends,
so does this phase of my working life.

The end of my career is not without sadness;
it's not without trepidation and some anxiety -
yet none of those feelings
 means it isn't the right thing to do
and
the right time to do it.

Retirement 2.0

The future

A child stood on her seat in a restaurant,
holding the railing of the chair back,
as though to address a courtroom,

“Nobody knows what’s going to happen next.”

Then she turned, sliding back down to her food,
as relieved and proud to say the truth,
as we were to hear it.

Coleman Barks

Sea Glass

I want to age like sea glass.

Smoothed by the tides

but not broken.

I want my hard edges to soften.

I want to ride the waves

and go with the flow.

I want to catch a wave and let it carry me

to where I belong.

I want to be picked up 

and held gently by

those who delight in my well earned patina and

and appreciate the changes I went

through to achieve that beauty.

I want to enjoy the journey 

and always remember that if

you give the ocean, 

or life, 

something breakable, 

it will turn into

something beautiful.

I want to age like sea glass

The biggest surprise of the trip

As we were driving, on Crete, to the coastal town of Matala,

we were told that, in the 60's and 70's, 'hippies' had flocked to the area

to escape national and international crises around the world
- the Vietnam War, the draft,
'race riots', anti war protests, civil rights marches,
actions against the rule of corporations, 

protests demanding equal rights for women, etc.

Many found themselves in Matala,

seeking refuge (and rent free housing) in the caves above the Mediterranean,

living like the indigenous people in tribes in the American Southwest -

picture Bandolier National Park, 

only with a beach.

After exploring on our own,
we got back together, 

and were quick to point out to the tour guide,

that, indeed the 'hippies' hadn't left at all;

they were running the shops,

selling the coffee, art and jewelry

and were the same age as all of us.

None of us stays frozen in time

with a youths body and passions; 

there's a mellowing, a softening that's part of the process of becoming.

We change, if we're lucky.

In Crete, micro climates range from alpine (in the mountains) to tropical (along the coasts).

It's an island that really has something for everyone.

Big cities, rural and everything in between.

 There was such a familiarity and authenticity to Crete

that is was, without a doubt,

my favorite island - 

and one to which I would love to return for a longer stay.

 

Finding my tribe here wouldn't be that hard either.

The people of Greece

 Let me start with stating the obvious.

The main economy of Greece is tourism.

People on the islands must be used to people from other countries and cultures 

coming to their world and taking pictures.

For some I suspect, it must be a burden 

and as annoying for them as it would be for us

if someone was poking a camera in your face while you were working

or hanging out on the stoop.

Just living a life.

 To a person however, 

the folks I encountered were gracious, curious and delightful.

Several remarked that it's not often they get asked for a picture;

"it's usually the young beautiful Greeks who are most pestered".

Sorry, not sorry.

When I told them that it might be a reflection of my own age 

but I think they ARE beautiful, 

it usually got a smile and their permission to be photographed.

And, while I can hear how manipulative it sounds, it was the absolute truth.

The one exception to not taking pictures of the young and beautiful -

and even that's only because she was in front of the old and sacred

and I loved the contrast.

Actually I realize she wasn't the only exception.

This young potter was SO charming and talented;

visiting his studio was a fascinating look at commercial and tourist aspects of his trade.

 You know you've become one with your environment

when you start dressing in the same tones.

 When I asked him if I could take his picture,

his reply was "only if you make it look like I didn't agree".

Mission accomplished.

 A Vintner and restaurateur who prepared a fabulous meal for us 

at her farmhouse.

 right across the road from her olive orchard - and view!

I've had that look at work - I call it

'just livin' the dream'.

Good reality check that work is called work for a reason - 

no matter what country you live in.

While searching for the Greek form of 'milagros'-

thin, pressed silver imagery used to facilitate prayers of the people, 

(see them hung/nailed to the bottom of the tablet)

In a small shop, reeking of incense and filled with icons

both new and ancient,

I had an intense discussion about spirituality, belief and faith with the man below.

After locking the shop door, he went into the back room 

and came out with a piece of wood 

that he believed was from the cross on which Jesus was crucified.

 I then listened for what seemed like another hour while he told me about its acquisition.

Good thing I wasn't on a time deadline.

Not just the people OF Greece but the people I was with IN Greece

made all the difference as well.

 True to form, there are always some you get along with better than others,

but it's not really hard to find your tribe.

 In case you can't tell by now, it was a terrific trip -

and a wonderful start to my 7th decade.