WHY I LOVE GETTING OLDER

 The Boxer   [verse 4]

Now the years are rolling by me

They are rockin' evenly

I am older than I once was

And younger than I'll be;  that's not unusual

Nor is it strange

After changes upon changes

We are more or less the same

After changes we are more or less the same

. . . lyrics by Paul Simon

Why I love getting older and why you may too: 

I've learned how to find peace.  There are things I won't "get over" or forget. And no doubt more to come. But I accept what has happened and my emotions about it.  That's peace.  

I like being with people, but equally being alone. Although my husband and I are mostly at home together, we may each be doing our own thing apart. I'm especially happy outdoors on my own while he writes from his home office. 

I like most everything about myself.  Like doesn't mean admire but it does presage contentment.  I think that takes aging.  We've accomplished (or modified) our ambitions, we've reached (or rethought) our goals, we've become ourselves.  It's too late to "find yourself," but just right to "be yourself." 

No one else decides how I spend my time.  I can read to my heart's content.  Reread the classics. Indulge a true crime penchant.  I can take classes:  pottery, a history class on WWI, a webinar series on living Alcohol Free, a lay ministry class. I can blog.  I've taught myself to collage, the most hands-on creative I've been for years: washi tape, art paper, my own poetry and prose, stamp art, embellishments.  I'm proud of these collage journals, which are just for me. 

There's emotional freedom from stress. I wanted to be a lawyer since 5th grade and hold the years practicing in memory happily with no regrets. But I ran on stress. I wanted children since at least our honeymoon, but anxiety and child-rearing are daily companions.  As a grandparent, I embrace that easier role with gratitude and joy. 

The worry about saving for a house with more space, college or retirement is over.  Within reason we can do what we want, enjoy a meal out, grocery shop without tallying, and travel.  

There are other reasons I'm not focusing on right now.  Of course, the greatest is gratitude for living.  Long life is a universal goal, and I am officially too old to die young. 🙏 

Thank you, God, for my very life these many years.  I have come to appreciate it more as it lengthens. Give me the grace to accept whatever comes next and the feelings that are sure to follow.  This is my prayer for us all. 

Nina Naomi

  

JULY CAN BE COZY TOO

 

From bellaGrace, 2020

No thesaurus defines cozy as secure, but that's how I think of it. Because then it can be an all-year feeling.  Then cozy can be a childhood memory, a slow dance in the kitchen, or a space filled with pillows, photos and plants.  It  can be a booth in a place where you're a regular, or even your car tooling along a familiar road to a familiar place.  Security, comfort and contentment are not bound by the seasons; they are feelings we seek and create year-round.  

I began blogging in 2017 when we lived for a semester in an old 3-story brick building in Princeton, NJ.  It was winter and our apartment was on the ground-floor right on the sidewalk.  My husband could walk across the street to teach his classes. Mostly we were snowed-in.  Three small rooms and raging central heat.  Definitely cozy.  It was an un-busy, un-hectic time; no wanting more or feeling dissatisfied.  A perfect time to realize what I wanted to share. 

We can settle into the things we enjoy any time.  Now, in July, it's cool sheets, denim shorts and breezy tops, sometimes a sweatshirt or cotton sweater. Where we live the vines and bushes have exploded and are growing so close to the house that they almost press against the windows, like being snowed-in but by green tendrils.  If you're OK with wading through North Carolina lushness, it's cozy indeed.  

I read something by Teagan Olivia Sturmer, a writer who says, "I find myself drawn to the cozy and simple when things go bad.  And sometimes things can go very bad." (bellagracemagazine.com, 2020) I can identify with that.  Why else would hot tea be my go-to drink?  She also writes that choosing to feel hope is not always easy, but it is always brave.  I can identify with that too.  Giving up is easy; hoping is not. When I've had the choice to bail or do something brave, the bravery has sprung from hope.  

So where are you finding coziness this summer month? Where's your security, comfort and contentment? Is there a place or activity where time stops and you enjoy the ritual of just being you?  Do you paint, write, knit, daydream, run?  Blog?  Is there a time where you can be your own best friend and breathe?  When you are warmed through with contentment? (Can I confess that a nap is cozy?)  How do you capture cozy?               Nina Naomi

  Starra Neely Blade, b. 2003, BellaGrace, 2020

 

 

 

WINTER CONTENTMENT

 

Do certain things remind you of your childhood?  Winter reminds me.  Some of the reminders are not particularly happy.  One time I told my parents:  "I will NOT walk to school when the temperature is below than 20 degrees!"  It was probably an eight block walk and my nose was running, my fingers stiff, my bones sore from hunching against the cold by the time I reached the equally chilly high school.  We lived too close for the bus and I had no car.  My best friend and I tried singing, skipping, everything to keep warm.  Nothing worked.  St. Louis has cold winters. 

But most childhood winter memories are good ones.  You too?  On our second date my husband and I, then teenagers, sneaked into a country club and sledded by moonlight.  St. Louis is also hilly.  We shared a sled.  I had no complaints about the cold that night.

Do you agree that a wonderful thing about childhood is that our pleasures were simple?  I lived in a drafty house, had my own room and we had a dog.  The warm air from the coal furnace blew the dog's hair everywhere.  My job was to sweep it up.  A mix of collie and super-shedder, she lost large tufts of hair year-round.  I got an allowance for my chores.  I kept a diary which was mostly about boys I liked who sometimes liked me back. 

My first dog's name is still my password.  I bet something from your childhood is your password too.  I wonder if anyone has researched that. There's a reason security questions often have to do with our childhoods.  I can't articulate it, but someone can.  Some memories don't fade. 

One thing winter brings is time for introspection.  The quiet that accompanies the cold leaves more room to think.  The coronavirus has certainly left time for contemplation. Even with home-schooling and all the rest, winter is a slower season.  Let's be content.  

SIMPLE, SWEET AND SLOW: CONTENTMENT

I don't know about you, but I'm a little bit sad that we've moved our clocks forward.  Even though it's still cold out our long nights are over.  Now for awhile it's dark in the morning with more light in the evening.  I've been content with our early nights.  Mid-winter always seems like going back to a simpler life which, as we know, is not a step backwards.  A step inwards perhaps but not backwards.  Winter is the quiet season; more solitude, that thread that unites us with our inner world.  The season of short days is the time to work on our projects.  I took up a long-dormant knitting project and am just hours away from finishing.  I enrolled in a knitting class to get it just right. 

Longer nights have also given us more time to keep company with ourselves and those we live with.  Kids love an early bath, books and jammies.   The meditation class I finished encouraged us to be more compassionate companions, as if we ourselves are someone we are fond of and wish to inspire. Practicing that gentleness has been the best of winter projects.  

The contentment of long nights is such a soft, generous idea.  It's a word that conjures up a mix of joy and peace, the kind we might get from an early night to bed with the one we love most. What's great about contentment is that it is possible every day.  We don't need to wait for one of those special dream-come-true days.  It's right here where we are, sitting and being fully in the grace of what surrounds us and lives inside us now.  Accepting the past, living for today, and hoping for tomorrow. 

Well now, that isn't confined to a season, is it?  By the time we get used to the dark mornings they'll be gone; the sun will be up before the alarm rings.  We'll have longer days to find something wonderful in the ordinary.  To let our curious, accepting, non-judging, kind selves do their thing.  If we could harmonize our mind, body and spirit with the cold beauty of winter, what can't we do in Spring?

Snow-covered Rosemary in Bloom

 

CONTENTMENT BY THE WINTER SEA

Today the sea is loud. I took Mr. Wiggles for his walk.  He's a malti-poo who was in foster care here when I found him.  So he's not afraid of the ocean, little guy that he is.  Off-leash, that's his treat.  

The noise comes from every direction.  The crashing right in front of me with the gray waves curling up and over, but then different sounds, deeper and steadier to the left and right, up and down the beach. Synchronized.  The air is damp and cool and close.  I didn't need my scarf or gloves.  I hope you're someplace today that you like, where you can have a short (or long) walk or run. Or something to listen to or watch that takes your attention and holds it. Something in nature.  Winter is good for that.  

Mary Oliver (1935-2019) says,

The sea is the most beautiful face in the universe.

She wrote, 

The sea can do craziness, it can do smooth, it can lie down like silk breathing or toss havoc shoreward; it can give gifts or withhold all; it can rise, ebb, froth like an incoming frenzy of fountains, or it can sweet-talk entirely.  As I can too, and so, no doubt, can you, and you. 

So I'm content again and hope you are too.  Contentment is richer than joy, that comes in spurts, surprising us.  Contentment I think builds and is more likely to last. It's part of our relationship with ourselves. I'm thinking we can even be content, so to speak, if we're not happy.  There are times, events that we don't expect to be happy about but may still be content knowing that we are doing the best we can, or that someone else is. Or that the unhappiness is a natural part of life. 

When I saw those dolphin leaping, tail and all (Post,"Happening All at Once," 12/8/19), I felt an instant response, a reaction to the moment--happiness.  A kind of giddiness almost.  Today is more serene.  Does the distinction matter?  Both are good.  One enfolds, one lifts.  Both are blessings, all are blessings--joy, happiness, satisfaction, contentment.  And at least this weekend all have been here at the sea, overlapping like the waves themselves.  I didn't have to do anything, just walk the dog and look and listen.  I bet looking and listening is the key.  As we learn in mindfulness training, keeping an open heart.  




 

CONTENTMENT DOESN'T FALL IN OUR LAPS. LIKE A GARDEN IT HAS TO BE CULTIVATED.

When I opened up an issue of The Simple Things (thesimplethings@icebergpress.co.uk) I saw this page and it triggered this thought about contentment.  So I scribbled the thought on the page.  Shortbread, tea, a lovely book of old-fashioned nature sketches.  How nice to be contented by such simple things.  And how grateful we must be if we have the time for tea, a biscuit and a read. We know that there are lives all over the world where events makes it hard to make a happy home or embrace the ordinary.  We know that if we have the time to read and blog and care for our families and do yoga and play sports and our work is satisfying that we are very, very fortunate.  We hope and pray that our contentment isn't at the expense of others.  That we are thoughtful, charitable, pay fair wages, vote our consciences, work for worthy causes.

Not all phrases we encounter make as much sense.  I recently came across the admonition, "Enjoy life while you're living it."  This struck me as nonsensical.  Why not just "Enjoy Life?" Except that is too simplistic.  What if we have been uprooted?  Or worry about those who have?  What if someone we love seems distant?  Or a child is floundering. What if a friend has cancer? Or we're afraid of aging? Or dying.  Such common problems.  Then it seems to make more sense to cultivate contentment.  Work at it.  Someone said, and I don't know who, "A wise woman takes care of her soul."  This made me think that the greatest contentment comes from emotional safety. Shutting our door at night and feeling comfortable in our solitude.  Or getting into bed with the person we love.  Waking and our sweet pet is there waiting for attention and food.  Being alone but not lonely.  Or with people and not lonely.  Or family and not lonely. Helping when we can and accepting when we cannot.

I was thinking about feelings that slow us down--envy, fear, anxiety, jealousy, fatigue, frustration. . . .   Then how we want to feel--at peace,  loved, appreciated, free, treasured, secure, rested, energized, smart, successful. . . . long lists.  Both lists are legitimate.  They are real and have real, undeniable causes.  Sometimes circumstances must change before we move from feeling anxious to feeling appreciated.  If we are being deceived the deception must stop.  If someone who owes us loyalty is disloyal they must change.  If we are afraid to take action, we must change.  Whatever hurts anyone must stop. 

When gardens are cultivated beautiful flowers grow.  So it's true--contentment doesn't fall into our laps.  It does have to be cultivated.  I bet we are all brave and strong enough to do that.  I bet we are doing that now.  With affection, Nina Naomi

Pierre Bonnard, "Garden," 1935