Give yourself gifts!
Image
4
Category Archives: aging with grace
Unmoveable
Unmoveable by Louise Gallagher Still I sit unmoved by the earth orbiting through time passing where I sit still unmoveable in my desire to hold on to all I believe I am when I sit still. Opening my eyes see I must let go of sitting still to release my hold on being, unmoveable.
I sit in meditation and release my thinking mind into my body. I ask my deep, inner knowing, to fill me up with connection, awareness, guidance.
“We come into this world knowing the infinite belonging within life that brings us into being,” the wise woman whispers.
Huh?
What on earth does that mean.
Listen, she whispers.
I sink deeper. I listen, deep.
And I feel myself opening, opening, opening.
All my life I have strived to ‘be equal’ to be as good as, and at times, better than, ‘a man’.
But what if none of this journey is about being equal to or better than.
What if the mystery of the feminine I strive to uncover and connect to is as much a part of the whole as the masculine that has been buried beneath mountains of patriarchial patterning that would have white maleness be the measure of the worth of all?
What if equality has nothing to do with it?
What if this journey is about becoming something profoundly other than what is known now?
What if, in all my striving, I let go of holding onto all I think I know and believe about who I am in relation to ‘the other’ so that I can become all I am in relation to me?
What if in my becoming, I allow the expression of my infinite belonging to draw the threads of my being into a beautiful, magnificent expression of my destiny woven through life’s constantly evolving journey?
What if the story of my life isn’t ‘what I make it’ but what I become as I live it untethered to the known as I explore the all of who I do not know me to be?
What if it is not about striving to be, and simply becoming my story in this time where I sit, still, and unmoveable yet constantly moving and changing, moving and changing?
Heady thoughts to ponder beneath this grey sky day where snow blankets the earth and the river runs deep, its surface movement blocked by ice stopping its flow while beneath the ice, the river moves, constantly reaching out towards a distant sea.
Love Never Grows Old
For Valentine’s Day, my beloved and I went to a movie. My Sailor. My Love.
Set along the rugged shores of Ireland’s stunning coastline, it follows the tale of widower, Howard Grimes, falling in love with, Annie, the woman his daughter hires to keep house for him.
It begins with an apology and ends with acceptance. And through it all, love shimmers in the beauty of the scenery, the sparse dialogue, the interactions between the three main characters, Howard, his daughter Grace and Annie, as well as everyone in the theatre and online watching. We all felt Love’s presence.
No matter if the actors were embodying the confusion, hurt, anger, fear, sadness, loss of their character, Love was there.
At the end, when I was wrapping up the event (I was the host. I’m a board member of THIRD ACTion Film Fest and we put on monthly screenings of films that illuminate issues and stories of aging and one of us always hosts) I told the audience that one of the things that really rang true for me in the film was that, Love Never Grows Old. Not physically. Not spiritually. Not intangible or tangibly. Love Never Grows Old.
There is always space, and time, for Love to play a role, hopefully, a leading one, in our lives.
Whether we are feeling happy, elated, joyful, or confused, hurt, angry, scared, sad, or lonely, Love is always there. To know it, we only have to accept it is there and forgive ourselves and others for the things we’ve done that were unloving.
As the final credits rolled last night, the movie of my life that likes to play in my mind when my soul is stirred and my heart beats wild and fierce, rewound itself to a point in time where my mother, sisters, my daughters and I were at my brother and his wife’s memorial service.
As I told my daughters, who at the time had just slipped over the cusp of their single-digit years and were confused by some of the family drama that enshrouded the passing of their uncle and aunt, “When someone leaves this world there is only one thing they can leave behind. Love. It is what brings each of us into this world and what carries us over the threshold to whatever lies beyond this life.Love is eternal.”
My Sailor. My Love. reminded me to keep diving deep into LOVE. It never grows old. It is, from the beginning to the end of life, always present.
No matter our accumulation of money, possessions, degrees, homes, cars, accolades, no matter how high up the career ladder we climb, how many times we’ve fallen, felt broken, discouraged or lost, it is always Love, in its many wondrous facets and manifestations, that carries us through.
.Namaste
I want to grow old as if aging is as exciting at 70 as it was at five
Some say age is irrelevant. Some say it’s everything. Some, that getting older is hard. Others, that it’s not for the weak of heart, spirit, or mind.
I say, age, and aging, are what we make of it.
We can’t not age. Our bodies change and grow older with every passing day. And while we can’t stop the aging process, we can cultivate a young-at-heart state of mind no matter our age. We can consciously choose to remain spirited, open-minded, and mindful of how we see ourselves at every age, because, no matter how old we get, we always have the power to choose to not make our age the measure of our journey, but rather make our journey the measure of how we live our age.
I want to be as excited and enthusiastic about getting older as my grandson approaching his fifth birthday, counting each sleep left before the ‘big day’. I want to treat every day as the best day to be alive because reaching five, or whatever age I achieve, is the best age to be in this moment, right now.
I want to fill each day with memories to cherish and possibilities to fulfill. To stuff all the things that make my heart dance into each moment, unfettered by worry and confusion about what it means to be turning 70, or 80 or any other age I claim as mine. I want to dance wild of heart, living every day as if the question, “How shall I best live this day” is the only question I need to live into, every day.
I don’t want to feel like I’m crawling towards some finish line looming ominously like a dark cloud hanging low upon a not-so-distant horizon. I want to invite Lady Death to be my welcome companion. To run with her through fields of wildflowers blowing in the wind, to stand in silent companionship under a warm spring sun and feel its warmth on our upturned faces as we soak in the glorious nature of this day. I want to know that Lady Death is not lurking in the shadows waiting for some, indecipherable to me, signal that says, “Time’s Up!” but is dancing with me in the rain, catching raindrops on our tongues and splashing barefoot in mud puddles, arms wide open as we spin and leap with abandon. I want her to be my best friend. The one who comes and sits with me when I am scared of what comes next, encouraging me to stand up and live unafraid of whatever does come next.
I want to live as if dying is not the end of living, just the end of life as I know it. That, in living this life the best I can, I can trust Lady Death to take care of whatever glorious mystery lies beyond it, in its own time that doesn’t matter to me.
I want to live wild, free, and magnificently alive right to my last breath no matter how my body carries me across death’s threshold. A threshold I am confident will arrive in its own sweet time, saving me from having to discover whether or not I had a ‘best before date’.
Because I know, deep within my body, that I don’t have a ‘best before date’. I only have dates with my best days ever, days, not to be used up, but used to the fullest of my ability, no matter my age.
I don’t want to be used up by life. I want to use up life bite by scrumptious bite, savouring every morsel of life as if it’s some delicious meal inviting me to consume it to the very last delectable drop.
I want to live this life as if it’s the only life I have to live because it truly is the best life I’ll ever have and celebrating my birth date with as much enthusiasm as my five-year-old grandson celebrates his, is the best way to say as I blow out all 70 of my candles (and however many more are yet to come), “Thank you for this amazing, magnificent, glorious life. It is the best gift I’ve ever received. And my wish is on this day and every day, I use it well every day of my life.“
Namaste
These are the faces of love
Alive in Love By Louise Gallagher These are the faces of love flowing between hearts beating wild the song that never ends in the key of life running full with the joy of being alive in this moment where small hands touch my tender heart breaking open. These are the glorious moments that fill my world overflowing with the exquisite nature of one tiny raindrop plump with an entire world of beauty reflected in its perfect orb suspended in life’s unfathomable mysteries holding me tenderly in this moment where the only place to be is alive in Love.
Dancing Wild at Heart
Over at Gratitude Mojo today, doyen, Joyce Whycoff, shares a series of questions to promote introspection and writing.
Wow.
I almost felt my mind getting lost in the pure glee of skipping amidst the questions, flinging its metaphoric arms wide-open to the possibilities each question represents.
Some of the questions are posed by authors such as John O’Donoghue, Byron Katie, James Cleer, others by Joyce herself.
All of them spark the light of wonder and awe of our human condition.
My skipping mind wants to answer every question right now.
And then, I remember Rilke’s advice to ‘live the questions.’
So, to safeguard myself from diving headfirst into mayhem, I have decided to pose one question a day from Joyce’s list for me to explore – either here on my blog, or in my journal. To ‘live the question’ within by writing my heart out.
The question I’ve chosen today, which I will explore in my journal more completely, is from Gabrielle Roth. Her question immediately jumped out at me as I have held onto her book, “Dance of Ecstasy” for many, many years. Gabrielle Roth’s ‘5Rhythms‘ movement/meditation practice was part of my practice for many, many years. In the 90s I took a facilitators course and lead workshops, attended a weekly session with others and lost myself in ‘the dance of life’ finding me where ever I was on the floor, in the room, within and without. Occasionally, I still engage with it.
And that’s where my exploration of her question begins with the first sentence in her quote from Joyce’s list.
When did you stop dancing? When did you stop singing? When did you stop being enchanted by stories? When did you stop finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence?” — Gabrielle Roth
As I am off early tomorrow morning to spend blissful time with my daughter and her family (and a whole lot of dancing with my grandchildren!), I shall mostly be writing in my journal.
But, my intent is to live that question deeply. To explore what stands in front of me, and behind me, holding me back from dancing with the thrum of heart calling me to let go and just BE. Wild. Free. Untethered. Unfettered. WILD at HEART. ME.
I do hope you go explore Joyce’s question list. Perhaps I’ll see you on the page sharing your thoughts too! That would be so sublime.
Namaste
The stories we let go of.
When I worked in an adult homeless shelter I heard many people’s stories. It was almost a ritual for staff. Whenever someone was talking about ‘their story’ of how they ended up at the shelter, the staff member would bring the client to my office door and ask, “Do you have a few minutes to listen to this woman/man’s story?”
I always had time for their stories.
They were, in many cases, all they had left of their past. All they carried with them. All they had to hold onto to remind them of who they were before…
…Before their husband took off leaving them with 3 small children, no money, no job, no prospects. For a while, they managed to keep it together. Eventually, the burden, the constant struggle to make a few dollars stretch to cover all the days of the month would take their toll. One drink became another and another until, the children were taken away and they were left, alone. Broken. Searching for release from the pain and turmoil that had become their life.
…Before the car accident that stole their wife and child leaving them unable to comprehend the sheer horror of what happened.
…Before the divorce. The fall from a roof. The fight. The breakdown. The big mistake…
People arrived at the shelter with their stories tightly gripped in memory banks and hands. Stories of how… life used to be.
…We were happy. I loved her. I always wanted to go to college. I had a career. I only wanted to be a good dad. I built things. I was well-respected. I made people laugh. I liked to sing. I painted. I wrote. I took care of people…
They would share their stories and I would listen deeply.
To the pain. The sadness. Sorrow. Regret. Confusion. Disbelief. Anger…
They would share their stories and I would hear the yearning for ‘the way things used to be’.
And when they were done, I’d tell them how sorry I was for what happened. How they must feel lost and alone. So sad.
Yet, no matter how they felt, one fact remained the same. None of us are powerful enough to change the past.
We can only look to today to find the path to tomorrow.
Sometimes I’d ask, “Are you able to let go?”
And they would inevitably reply. ‘Of course,’
Don’t we all believe that? Don’t we all believe we can change, leave the one we love who’s hurting us. give up smoking. find a job. go back to school. get sober. lose weight. change directions.
If only it were so easy.
We all have stories we tell on ourselves.
And when those stories are the only thing we have to hold onto, letting them go can feel like we are losing ourselves. It can feel so scary and overwhelmingly huge we hold onto them as if our lives depend upon their presence to keep us grounded on this earth.
We all have stories we tell on ourselves that hold us down.
Stories that begin with, I can’t. I don’t know how. I’ve never. It’s too late…
Are you willing to let go?
You Are Not A Mistake
Transitions can be frightening and necessary. We can’t see the road ahead. We don’t know what will happen. We feel unsafe in unknown territory.
And…we worry that to step forward into the unknown means leaving the past behind. Including the anger, the loss, and the pain that fuels us.
Somewhere, in a book I have long forgotten the name of, I read that we must look to nature for inspiration. The author wrote of how the beauty of fall is followed by the death of every leaf. The leaf lets go because it knows it’s time to move on. It is not striving for something else. It is not angry with the tree for letting it down. It isn’t about being perfect, it’s about the willingness to acknowledge its journey was perfect.
For humans, that perfect journey includes acknowledging our human imperfections, making amends where our imperfect behaviours have caused harm (where possible) and forgiving others so that we can transform our hearts and lives throughout our journey as change is as inevitable as the sun’s rising every morning.
To let go of what was and to allow what is unfurling to unfurl, we must forgive what was, what was, what wasn’t, and what did hurt us, and caused us angst, or pain.
And in that forgiveness is the gift of more. More peace. More gratitude. More possibility. More grace.
It isn’t that forgiveness negates justice or the need for justice. It is that forgiveness sets the forgiver free — and possibly the forgiven too. It is that forgiveness opens our hearts to possibility. Renewal. Hope. Peace. Love and Joy.
Forgiveness makes me whole. Because no matter what justice I deem necessary, or the law determines right, there is and always will be room for Divine mercy.
Mercy is the right of the God, the Divine, the Universe, the unknown and forgiveness is the deepest mystery of all.
A mystery is not something that cannot be solved or to be frightened of. Mystery is something I do not understand enough. And in the quest to understand the mystery of forgiveness, I am strengthened in my quest for inner freedom through learning what it means to forgive.
Those words in a book I cannot remember, continue to resonate as I explore what it means to be human on this journey of my lifetime.
A human being who makes mistakes and is never a mistake.
Today is an unwritten story.
Every morning I wake up and choose to write here, or not.
My story. My choice.
Every day, there are things I have to do over which there is very little choice or none at all. Like breathing. Bodily functions. Eating. Sure, I get to choose where and when and what I eat, but eat I must to stay alive.
Every day, my choices impact my quality of life, and if the science is correct, its duration too.
Which brings me to my thoughts about today – What choices will I make today that create the story I really want to tell about myself and to myself?
What kind of story do I want my life today to be?
A story of joy? A tale of woe?
Boldness untethered? Timidity quivering?
Living large? Playing small?
Signing out loud or silencing my voice?
What if, instead of just operating as if on auto-drive, you chose to get hyper-conscious of being here, right now, present and alive in this moment, writing your story as if it’s the greatest story you will ever have to tell about your life today?
What if?
.
How To Be Bold
Maria Loohufvud and Love Martinsen’s. Calendar Girls, a documentary about an over 55-year-old dance troupe whose use of glitter, feathers, bling, and heavy eye makeup would make RuPaul’s Drag Race contestants look under-dressed, recite while dancing as rainbow unicorns, “We use magic from our hearts to make the world a better place,”
At first glance, there is a natural response (driven by societally driven unconscious biases on how ‘older women’ should look and behave) to mock or at least look askance at these older women strutting their stuff rife with flabby arms and wrinkles.
What are they doing? Trying to look young? Trying to recapture lost youth? Make fools of themselves? Why don’t they cover-up?
By the end of the hour-long documentary what’s clear is that none of the above is the case.
These women are teaching all of us how to live life on our own terms. How to be BRAVE. BOLD. And above all BE TRUE TO OURSELVES.
The documentary is currently ‘doing the circuit’ of festivals and competitions. It won a prestigious spot at the Sundance Film Festival and continues to inspire, provoke and confuse audiences across North America.
Last night’s screening by THIRD ACTion Film Festival is done. I hope you can find it somewhere else so that you too can be enchanted by these women who not only use the magic of their hearts to create a better world but whose friendship and sisterhood remind all of us that none of us have to take this journey of life alone. None of us can.
We are all going in the same direction. Why not glitter it up, throw on some bling and heavy eye makeup and dance your way into the dying light rather than, as Dylan Thomas once counseled, rage against it.
And, if you want to continue to shake-up unconscious biases about aging and get those sillies out, February’s My Sailor – My Love promises to be a moving, inspiring and provocative film about family, aging and Love. Perfect for Valentine’s Day (which is when it’s screening)
Visit the THIRD ACTion website later this week for details. Or, check out this review.
______________________
Dare Boldly 