Tag: blog

Clean Windows

A room can be dank because you have closed the windows, you’ve closed the curtains. But the sun is shining outside, and the air is fresh outside. In order to get that fresh air, you have to get up and open the window and draw the curtains apart. Forgiveness is like this. (Desmond Tutu)

A Window to Forgiveness

As Sylvia looked out her bedroom window this morning, she noticed the sunlight hitting it in such a way that she was struck concurrently by two thoughts: the first was pretty matter-of-fact, that she must stay home on occasion and get some cleaning done; and the second thing, well, that was a bit clearer, that even when we allow something into our hearts, minds, and souls, there is no purity in it unless we invite it without any preconceived notions or expectations. (Sylvia’s second cup of coffee had begun to work.)

It’s the most difficult thing to do, I believe, to forgive. Forgiving means you’ve been wronged or hurt. More precisely, it means you feel wronged or hurt. When Sylvia opens the windows, she becomes vulnerable, and it is that vulnerability where she risks being hurt. It is also that vulnerability that allows pure joy, love and peace to enter.

Hmm. So, you decide. Doors and windows open or closed? Forgive yourself first, and then open. Fresh air never felt so good. That’s what Sylvia has been doing on this summer day. The windows look much cleaner now.

Say It and Mean It

Day in and day out, she tried to raise her son to be independent, kind, and strong. So, how lovely it is when she receives a simple message that reveals that he has become that man– and so much more!

He teaches me to embrace it, welcome it, and love it. What is “it” you ask? The day. The world. This life.

When we recognize that our children become our teachers and purveyors of compassion and genuine goodness, then the world will make meaningful leaps towards being a place where love and kindness are in bloom year-round.
~K. Morgan

Counting on Herself

It wasn’t that her passions and appetites were finally coming to life. It wasn’t that she had learned that seizing an opportunity could be life-affirming. While those gifts were validating and restorative to her body and soul, Sylvia’s greatest gift was so much easier to access than any of those realizations. She just had to allow it. She had to allow herself to accept happiness in order to give herself the very thing that she thought she had lost. Herself. She was learning to count on the one who would never leave.

Wednesday wisdom: When you find yourself and believe in yourself, you will find the one person you can always count on.

Standing Still

Sylvia never really thought about it until yesterday. After a burst of anger followed by a short period of self-deprecation and sadness, she stops herself dead in her tracks. Neither the vexation nor the momentary lack of self-approval is who she is. They are volatile but thankfully short-lived. She is best who she is when she is standing still in the fresh air. No desire to make herself or anyone else happy.

Boredom, anger, sadness, or fear are not ‘yours,’ not personal. They are conditions of the human mind. They come and go. Nothing that comes and goes is you.
~Eckhart Tolle

Sorry. Not Sorry.

Sylvia hasn’t returned calls lately. She hasn’t written all of her thank-you notes for the outpouring of support and sympathy she has received. She’s getting there little by little, but she feels apologies are in order. She doesn’t want anyone to think she’s self-absorbed.

“Are you nuts? Stop apologizing for being human,” scolds Erma. “There is a time and a place to ask for forgiveness. Now is neither the time nor the place, Syl. Swallow the words ‘I’m sorry’ as if they are chocolate today. Trust me, they melt in your mouth like M&Ms when they aren’t called for.”

Moments of melancholy made better with friendship and chocolate. ************** ********📢Here are a few interesting reads on women and their penchant for apologizing– for everything. https://childmind.org/article/why-girls-apologize-too-much/ https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-02-22/why-women-say-sorry-and-what-to-say-instead/11985026

Mountains & Molehills

“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.”
~Maya Angelou

Erma: Ready for the day? Anything exciting planned?

Sylvia: Nothing really, just more of the same.

Erma: Oh, no. Moving mountains again, Syl?

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Wednesday Wisdom: If there is an obstacle in your path, remember this: Up. Over. Around. OR choose a different path.

A Sip to Savor

The beginning of the week and the end of a day. Ah, Mondays. Sylvia and Erma have a late afternoon chat and decide not to look too far ahead for a change. In fact, Sylvia tells her friend that she refuses to swallow, taste, or commit to anything more than a sip at a time. She just wants to sit and savor momentary satisfaction.
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“Our souls are satisfied one sip at a time.”
~Marnie Swedberg
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#overfiftyandfine #womenhelpingwomen

First Things First

As Sylvia prepares for another first, Erma reminds her that all of us are experiencing firsts again. New day. New perspective. Fresh cup of coffee. Even the things that are done ritualistically have a freshness to them.

It’s a perfect day to re-read a favorite and find a little something new in it to feed your spirit and/or cleanse your soul. Soak it in or let it go. It’ll be the last first of its kind.

https://overfiftyandfine.com/2018/08/05/the-best-and-worst-of-firsts/

Saturday Simplicity

Fine. Really. No worries. K?

Fine. Just fine.

Sylvia: Why do we say that? We all do. “How are you?” “Fine. You?” “Fine.” “How’s the family?” “Fine.” “Work?” “Fine.” Seriously, what is fine?

Erma: God, you are cranky sometimes, Sylvia. Fine is,well, fine. It’s okay. Fine means the status quo is being maintained. If everything is fine, there’s nothing to worry about, I guess. Why do you ask?

Sylvia: It bothers me. Fine is such an empty response, and I rather believe that nothing is fine. We all hide behind fine because we don’t want others to know how not fine we really are.

Erma: Well, I don’t think we hide behind it. I think we use it because it’s quick, easy, and serves the purpose of providing a response to a question that most people ask merely out of politeness. Think about it. Does the clerk at the checkout at Safeway truly care how my day is going? Does the plumber, who rings my doorbell at 8 a.m. knowing that I have called his answering service in the middle of the night with just the right amount of histrionics to warrant being moved up to his first call of the day, does he truly want to listen to how unfine I really am? No, of course not. Cases-in-point of simple niceties, Sylvia.

Sylvia: That’s just it, Erma. I’m kind of over simple niceties. I don’t want to hear one more. Wait. Let me amend that to say that I despise hearing that reply from someone who is close to me. I will no longer placate those who claim to care for me with a simple fine. And to boot, if I ask you- someone whom I trust, care about, and see fit to spend inordinate amounts of time with on a regular basis, know that my expectation exceeds niceties. Give me all you’ve got- for better or worse. I can take it. Actually, I expect nothing other than the truth, raw and honest, even brutal, given that we are friends, family, on the cusp of, or in the midst of a meaningful relationship.

Erma: Oh my God, okay, enough, I get it. You don’t like fine. You don’t want fine. Nix “fine” and bring on…bring on what?

Sylvia: Bring it on. Whoever you are, whatever you feel, give it to me straight. Our friendship can handle it. The world can handle it.

Erma: And what if the world can’t. What if I can’t?

Sylvia: Then, fuck it. REMEMBER? I told you a while back that most of life can be summed up in a word or two.

Lost & Found

Erma: It’s been a decade, right? Since your mom passed?

Sylvia: Yes, ten years in the blink of an eye. She must have been counting the days.

Erma: Yes, she undoubtedly wanted him home with her. They had been apart for too long. They were ready to be reunited and to live the eternity they had promised each other.

Sylvia: I wasn’t ready though. I’m still not. I don’t know how to navigate the rest of the journey. I’ve gone from devastated to lost.

Erma: Time. The only answer. It won’t heal but it will carry you. It will give you the life jacket you need from time to time to endure the waves that will pummel you at the most inconvenient and unexpected moments. 

Sylvia: I don’t need a life jacket. I’m not drowning. I told you I feel lost. I’m numb, shivering, in a blinding snowstorm, and I have no idea of what is ahead.

Erma: None of us knows, Syl. That’s where the notion of faith enters. And you are so far from lost– lost suggests that there is something to be found. There is nothing to be found and everything to be felt.

Sylvia: Oh, okay, then I’m right on track.

It’s been a month of Sundays since he passed, figuratively of course. Much longer in reality, and certainly it feels even more like an eternity. I’m not paralyzed or empty or broken. I’m numb. 

Every morning I awake hoping that I’ll complete the journey- the journey for which none of us is ever fully prepared- the journey off and away from the path of grief and sadness. Most people describe grief and its effect as wave-like; it ebbs and flows. It washes over you. It brings you under and makes it hard to catch your breath; and as soon as you stand and catch your breath, another wave knocks you down. It’s not a wave, not a ripple or a tsunami. It is more like the breathlessness you experience on a sub-zero day in the middle of January up north. This grief, this numbness, is totally different than any other I’ve ever felt. I can’t fully compare it to anything, not yet, because I know I haven’t lived through it completely. I doubt I ever will. Although if I had to liken this trek and its encumbrances to a relatable situation, I would imagine how one feels at a “Lost & Found” bin or depot. Hopeful yet aware of impending disappointment. Each morning I wake up headed to the lost and found. 

The phone rang last night. A message was left. “Your belongings have turned up. We are holding them for you at the ‘Lost & Found‘ window. Come at your earliest convenience.”

So, I awake with a controlled eagerness to pick up what has been left. After all, it is mine. It has been left for me to retrieve. I shower, get dressed, and off I go. On my way to the “Lost & Found” today. Every day for a month of Sundays. 

The journey has not taken me away or off the path. I have yet to retrieve what I believed belonged to me. I have yet to find wholeness. Perhaps I never will. Perhaps it is never to be found. But for now, I’ll keep listening to the message each night on the machine. I will keep getting up to see if the depot actually has what belongs to me. What needs to be reclaimed. I will live with the numbness- not in wave-like motion but in a traipse, much like the plodding of wearing full winter armor in heavy, wet snow on a frigid winter’s day.  And eventually – I hope anyway- faith will melt the snow away from the path.

I hope I will recognize what it is I lost. If not, I hope I find the strength to delete the message and move forward.