Category: blog

Peace and Play

I grew up in a New England shoreline town, so the assumption of many who meet me is that I’ve always been a beach lover and sun worshipper. Not true. In fact, I avoided the beach for years, especially when I hit the awkwardness of  adolescence. That young girl grew up hating her body and trying to get people to like and love her for being smart and hardworking. I was that girl who avoided pool parties, beach dates with the cool kids (who seemed to like me), and any and all outdoor activities that required exposure of anything more than my smile, mind, and veiled confidence. After all, my sisters –both several years older–  had by virtue of birth order and the endowment of petite frames thanks to our mom’s DNA, earned the coveted positions of the cute and perky one and the tiny and tenacious one. This girl, I was the fair-skinned, bigger-boned, studious one. Needless to say, the beach and bathing suits were quite far removed from my wheelhouse.

I often say and think that time and maturity are the great equalizers in life. (I say maturity rather than age because I no longer think wisdom derives solely from the number of years lived; there is a marked difference between growing older and growing wiser.) Those great equalizers are finally forcing me to realize that I’m the one who often stands in my own way. Giving in to those feelings of body loathing and shame and obsessing over how others, namely my peers, “viewed” me prevented me from experiencing two of the most important elements that the beach and ocean offer: peace and play.

As I walked the beach of Siesta a couple of weeks ago, sand in between my toes and a slight ocean breeze caressing my 61-year-old sun-kissed cheeks, I thought about that girl who missed out on so much peace and play in her youth. As I sat down at the base of one of the intricately crafted sand sculptures, I leaned into the moment. I had become the agent of change in my own world. Peace and play were present. How lovely to realize that it was not too late for me to welcome both into my life!

Time & Love: Gifts to Myself

61?! I spent yesterday crying on and off about how little I had accomplished in these six-plus decades. However, in the middle of the night, I began to receive birthday greetings from friends across the globe, and I decided to stop beating myself up with my own expectations and sense of failure. Good thing because what a waste of an extra hour as we set the clocks back! I’d like to attribute that extra hour on MY DAY as divine intervention and a dire reminder.

The greatest gift ever given to me has been time. My mom was the ultimate purveyor, especially to her family. So, it was bittersweet that as she neared death, she shared with me something that weighed on her –neither a resentment nor a regret-but rather a missed opportunity. As we discussed every little and big meaningful moment in her life, she admitted that she wished she had been kinder to herself. She wished she had taken time to love herself.

“Don’t always put yourself last,” she warned. “If you always show others that they come first and that what they need or want matters more, then in the end, you will be put last and come last.  You will take a back seat in your own life.” I remember how my heart sank and how I hoped that I had made my mother feel important and loved. I always saw my mom as the driver and the conductor in her (our) family until that moment. I thought then and still ruminate to this day about how I treated my mother, my best friend, and my confidante. And now, more than a decade after her passing, I realize what she was trying to tell me: Don’t seek validation from others. It was not until she stared death in the face that she realized she wanted to live –not for everyone else for she had ‘willingly’ put herself last – but for herself.  She had waited to show others that she was important and that she valued herself first. And alas, how she chose to experience her death– the where, the how long, and in whose presence and absence- that was her way of saying, “This last chapter of life is about me. I come first now.”

So, as my birthday comes to a close, I’m gifting myself time and love. After all, isn’t that all we ever have? One is running out, and one is finally growing.

❤

The Inner Voice

I talk. I talk a lot. To strangers. To friends and loved ones. To service workers. To children. To the older and the wiser. To the naive and unlearned. To the refined and educated. To men and women from around the globe. To people of all races, creeds, colors, religions, and sexual identities. To those who are powerful and those who need empowering. To those who use their voices freely. To those who have just begun to find their voices. Most of all, I talk to myself. Listening all the while.

The voices – all of them at times creating a cacophony in desperate need of silencing – provide depth, meaning, love, and laughter; they are the essence of life’s purpose. And then…

I write.

“I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still.”
~Sylvia Plath, Letters Home

The Storyteller

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Such a Challenge

One of my favorite people in the world is another Scorpio sister; she and I met nearly two decades ago when I was teaching middle school English at a small private school. I had the pleasure of having her son, a quick-witted and vibrant young man who has since made his way in the world fearlessly and whom I am proud  to call friend. Both my soul sister and her son –actually, the entire family including her husband (the “punniest” man I know), their fur baby Lua, as well as their eclectic and completely welcoming groups of friends – have expanded my world in myriad ways, but no way greater than sharing their deeply-seated love of exploration and their zest for living and loving fully.

While my friend and her husband have been in Europe on another adventure, they graciously offered me their home in the Pacific northwest  (dog, plants, and roses galore). “Work” never feels like work when I’m on an adventure of sorts.  From learning to use an electric mower to visiting Williamette wine country to outings where food, beverage, and above all else laughter were abundant, the months of September and October to this point have been full. My soul is lighter. My heart is fuller. My mind is clearer. And for more times lately than I can remember, I have felt like I – just me – am enough. If truth be told, I might even be too much in the very best ways. 

I’m making memories, satisfying curiosities, and challenging myself most days. Those days,  these days,  are indeed sublime. Life itself has been challenging most of the past six decades.  I’m going to  challenge it back!

Going solo, I’ve learned to enjoy my own company.

From the Mountaintop

No matter where I am, I AM the mountain. Although sometimes cloud-covered, the mountain endures. I abide. I hold on through life changes, always ready for the sun to poke through timidly or shine brazenly, each time rendering a different perspective. That optimistic anticipation? That unrelenting readiness? That’s called hope.
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“These are the soul’s changes. I don’t believe in ageing. I believe in forever altering one’s aspect to the sun. Hence, my optimism.”

(~Virginia Woolf)

“The Mountain is You”
by Chance Peña

Remembering My Wings

All day yesterday, I thought about my father and the unexpected nature of life. As he declined cognitively due to Alzheimer’s, my days seemed to pass too quickly, and there was never enough time with him. As I became more conscious of the limitations and deadlines imposed by his illness and by what it means to live this one mortal life, moments grew longer and more meaningful. Just a moment. A split second. A smile. A laugh. A tear. A memory. My recall now of those moments tends to be in slow motion. Thankfully. I’ve learned that when I become acutely aware of how fleeting life is, I have the power to slow down and take in the present moment.

Not all experiences are meant to  become deeply embedded in the memory, but those times when I’m happiest – and right now that means the days, hours, and minutes when I want nothing but peace and I find it and feel it simply – become the salve I need to soothe my soul. The anticipation of meeting up with a new “old” friend (and the resulting pep in my step). Heading out for coffee in a newly discovered café. Sitting and swinging in an unknown spot. All in slow motion the past few days. I remember all of it vividly…today. And maybe, just maybe, that’s all there is, but it is enough.

I’ll just keep using these wings each day.

#lovethelifeyoulive #hereandnow #writeyourstory

A Wildflower

“Like wildflowers, you must allow yourself to grow in all the places people thought you never would.”~E.V. Thompson

“Hello there, my truest friend,”Sylvia says as she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror. She walks away and then turns around quickly to catch another peek. Not satisfied with a quick glimpse, she leans in over the bathroom sink and takes a closer look. “Yep, it’s me, not still me or the same me,” she assures herself, breathing a sigh of relief. She exhales forcefully directly on the mirror, and as it fogs, she embraces the prospect of not knowing who she is becoming and points to her reflection, “Let’s just keep you and everyone else guessing. After all, who doesn’t love a good surprise?!”








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Don’t Count on It

https://overfiftyandfine.com/2024/06/23/dont-count-on-it/

Don’t Count on It

After six decades on this planet, I’ve learned, and I’m still learning. Don’t count on anything. Don’t count on anyone. Don’t count your blessings, your chickens, or sheep. Actually, in all honesty, don’t count.  

I’m not saying this glibly. I’ve given this serious thought for quite some time. Today, this idea of freeing  myself from counting and quantifying is at the forefront, as I sit looking out on a sky vacillating between sunny and foreboding. I’ve been waiting for a very long time for the roosters to come home to roost, the chickens to hatch, my blessings to abound and multiply, and for the sheep to put me to sleep. Alas, none of the aforementioned has happened. Alas? Perhaps, although now I’m thinking that these “failures” may be fortuitous after all.

Lucky may not be exactly what I feel about missing the mark on these fronts; relief may be the more fitting description of how I’m feeling at present. It’s oddly soothing to concede to the notion that nothing is guaranteed. Today, as I look to the sky and wonder, “Will the rain subside and the sun come out again?,” I breathe in and realize that it is better to have no expectations.

I have forever believed that people say what they mean and mean what they say.  I have forever believed that good things come to those who wait. I have forever believed that if I give enough of myself to others, they will see my worth. Now, I know. I cannot count on people meaning what they say.  I cannot count on good things happening if I’m patient. I cannot count on anyone actually seeing my value. I cannot count on anything or anyone to love me into success or worth. I count on nothing. I do have faith, though.  I have faith that I’ll see my worth, learn to value and accept myself, and love myself less critically and with more compassion.

I do hope. I do hope.

Don’t count her out!

Never Comes Later

https://overfiftyandfine.com/2024/03/20/never-comes-later/