‘Shelter in place’, a term that we all will remember for a long time. The effort to maintain social distance while slowing down COVID-19 infections seemed like science fiction just six weeks ago. We ‘Three Old Guys’ skyped to discuss what we might write about in this edition. Our purpose would be not only to log our own activities during this unusual period, but to encourage others to comment on what they have been doing while sheltering. One day we’ll look back on this with a degree of amazement.

So, keep a list of what you did while sheltering and share it with us. Perhaps your list will give ideas to others who are struggling during these initial weeks of “flattening the corona curve”.

Here’s my top twelve so far:

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1. Slowed down the pace: no physical meetings to attend has allowed more discretionary time for sure. More time for meals; likely watch more TV than we have in quite some time; and more time scouring internet news. Breakfast can now span a couple of hours of eating and conversation – when was the last time that happened? Speaking of TV, I recommend binging The Restaurant, a Swedish series with English subtitles.
2. Contact family daily: checking in is more of a priority. In our case, our sons/daughter and their work assignments, our grandkids now home from school. Perhaps this more for our own reassurance, but situations – particularly work situations – seem to change quickly at this stage of the outbreak. One son has been assigned to an emergency response center for part of each week.
3. Check on elder family and friends – or friends that are alone: plenty of folks are single or struggling with issues that were pre-COVID. We are fortunate for the telephone, internet, and contact software – much of which is being used concurrently! Most folks simply appreciate the opportunity to have a conversation, but in one case, I needed to break out of solitary and help an older friend install a new light by his furnace. We sort of kept our distance and kept grounded.
4. Planned alternatives to group meetings. Of course, you all would have laughed at our first attempt for an online 3oldguys meeting, but George, Hen and I had a number of disconnects setting up our group call – resulting in a lot of laughs and banter.  Similarly, Mike and Gregg posted a video of a makeshift regatta from our old college days that was hilarious. Thank goodness for longtime friends!
5. Set aside time to analyze serious decisions: my younger son’s restaurant business is on life support – employees furloughed, take-out orders only. That’s a tough problem for a cook-to-order establishment. We have spent considerable time while sheltering determining a practical take-out menu (many restaurants are simply limiting choices or offering what they have until it is gone). Thank goodness for the support of friends and community. While we realize that closing our doors is a real possibility, we are planning as if we will survive. Toward that end, I have spent hours filling out applications for disaster loans and mortgage refinancing during our sheltering time. More meetings have been focused on changing vendors to limit overhead costs to improve services: I’m meeting with the fire suppression folks to check our equipment, the cable installers to switch service, and point of sale folks to get estimates on new credit card processor and printers. Onward!
6. Pursue hobbies – I love woodturning, but rarely have enough time to devote to the craft. The shelter in place sanction has given an opportunity to expand studio time. More bowls, boxes, and spindles! Boy, is it satisfying to work with wood.
7. Share resources – today, a friend is using my shop to prepare wood for a restoration project for a circa 1680 stone home. I set up the tools and he can operate alone, so we aren’t in the same space at the same time. He’s happy and so am I!
8. Keeping the faith – was able to assist in a solution to hold Sunday services at our church. Reaching out to a friend who is a ham radio operator (thanks, Bruce!), he loaned equipment/transmitter to establish a short distance FM broadcast from our church sanctuary to the parking lot. Once I turned on the amp and transmitter, individual cars in the parking lot could tune in on an FM station to participate in the service. It was neat to see people wave to each other and sing hymns in their vehicles (and speaking as a life-long “no-tone” maybe we sounded better too!)
9. Cleaning – oh yes, I imagine lots of homes will be easier to navigate, once we pass shelter in place! We have reorganized and winnowed unnecessary papers – I just consolidated 15 years of income tax data – always an area where I keep lots of detailed back-up. We also assembled two glass door bookcases and a writing desk and went through all of our unused tech hardware (five old computers, four useless displays, three plotters/printers, two boxes of cables, and a game cartridge in a pear tree).
10. Caught up on banking – lots of digital movement, lots of interaction with pneumatic tubes outside closed bank lobbies. Held conversations with financial advisors to plan next steps and produced lots of Quick Books reports – yay! Not a fan favorite.
11. Reading – of course! Just finished Jo Nesbo’s The Knife, John Grisham’s The Guardians, and started Kate Atkinson’s Big Sky. What hasn’t worked so well is my new subscription to Audible – I find that if I do this at bedtime, I simply fall asleep and forget where I left the story… during the day, I would feel like a sloth, so that leaves Audible while exercising only – not frequent enough to get story continuity… also not a good solution while snow shoveling.
12. Getting used to the new normal – which naturally will change, once we have grown accustomed. Let’s hope it will change for the better.

My Upsides To Shelter in Place

I find it predictable but still interesting that we each interpret the mandate to “Shelter in Place” differently.  As we draw on past experiences, current and accumulated knowledge, and factor in our relationship with germs, fear, and individual versus community care, we act accordingly.  I have friends who are still meeting in small groups, running errands daily, and traveling but with adherence to guidelines for social distancing and small groups.  I also have friends who are staying at home except to buy groceries, period.  And there are those of us who decide what is necessary and what is not, and fall somewhere in-between. 

Since most of us are likely to spend the next several weeks, if not months, at home with minimal contact with others, we three old guys have each generated some things we have done, are doing, or are considering.  It would be fantastic for you, our readers, to share some of yours.

Leaning hard toward the complete isolation end of the continuum, my list is as follows:

1. I am most fortunate to have the companionship of my dog Duke.  We don’t argue, he makes no new demands, and he seems happy to have me around all the time!
2. Living on a large piece of property and being adjacent to hundreds of undeveloped land, I am free to hike trails every day.  Since I love the woods and being outdoors, this part is somewhat of an extended vacation!
3. While I can’t go to the gym or play pickleball regularly for exercise, I enjoy cutting, splitting, and stacking firewood, preparing garden beds, and tending to small repairs around the house.  Physical activity without having to interact with other people is readily available.
4. Recently my son and daughter-in-law sent me a gift certificate to Sun Basket, a company that allows you to choose meals that appeal to your tastes from a wide selection. They then send all the organic ingredients with instructions, directly to my front door. Over the last few years, I have been learning to cook, and this has helped me enormously. Since each order is complete with enough ingredients for two servings, I’m finding the process most rewarding and extremely helpful in reducing the number of trips necessary for grocery runs. I am now a regular subscriber!
5. This afternoon my granddaughter guided me via FaceTime through the installation of Netflix Watch Party. This Google Chrome extension allows groups of people to watch the same Netflix movie at precisely the same time and with a chat room on the sidebar. Tonight we will watch a film together even though we are 220 miles apart. We also decided to use FaceTime simultaneously so we can see and talk to each other while we watch the movie. Unfortunately, we each have to bring our own popcorn. 
6. As a result of the widespread concern for friends and loved ones, I have heard from and reached out to not only my regular contacts but a much wider circle of friends and family.  I find it energizing to connect and reconnect with them and serves to remind me of what a treasure they all are.
7. I started a diary earlier this week.  It will be interesting to look back on all of this, years from now and remember it from a distance.
8. I’m not in a rush anymore.  Time to notice more things.  Have you noticed how bright Venus has been in the western sky just after sunset?
9. I’m excited about the possibility of a kind of Mastermind Alliance online group.  Fortunately, the current state of technology allows us to continue supporting each other even if we can’t physically meet in the same location.
10. Lots of books to read and reread and no longer any excuses not to!
11. I found one small way to help out during this financial crisis.  I have had the same person and her team, clean my home every two weeks for about 8 years.  Suddenly she and her staff find themselves with no work or source of income.  Some of us have decided to continue her regular payments throughout this period of isolation.  Helping our local businesses in any way we can is critical to them and to our communities.
12. I’m looking forward to seeing we how we deal with cutting our own hair or coming out of this on the other side looking like hippies!

Of course it’s not all fun and games.  It’s easier to list all the challenges and losses.  But that list won’t serve me nearly as well as this one does.  Until I can hug my friends again, here’s wishing you all good health and a gentle transition to the new world that awaits.

These Are Strange Times

These are strange times.  We are all hunkering down in our own caves.  It seems like a strange, lonely, solitary time.  It is hard to get into a routine because a routine forces you to do the same thing over and over again, day after day, night after night…. being productive can be hard.  And when everything you have to do is inside your own square footage diversity is limited.  Before this crazy virus, I would meet friends for lunch, hug them, slap them on the back, laugh, whisper in each other’s faces.  Can’t do that anymore.  Will that ever feel natural again?  But to put a positive face on the pandemic,  people are making up for lost time-  doing those odd jobs around the house that we have been meaning to do for years.  

It started for me on the second day of staying put.  I looked in the mirror and decided what better time to shave off my beard and stash?  If I looked weird I could grow it back before anyone would get to see me!  Can’t decide if I like it better but it takes more time to maintain so that is a plus when you are trying to make the day go by fast.  

As I look around my house there are so many things to be done but even with all this time on my hands I am not all that motivated to do them.  Then guilt overwhelms me and I find that if I take the harshest route to a task I am more likely to finish it.  As an example, I had a sock drawer that was a so out of control I could not close it.  I began taking a few socks out that prevented the drawer from closing.  I felt myself giving up so I yanked the drawer out and just dumped all the socks on my bed.  This guaranteed my completing the job before going to bed that night. I organized them by pairs, separated the single only/dryer mishaps and then the pairs I didn’t want anymore and disposed of them.  I neatly organized the selected ones and smiled as the drawer drifted easily into place.   Each night I worry about the next day’s projects until bedtime.  It has become my new routine.  

I have made tomato sauce to last me for the next week.  Had a hard time finding macaroni (my Italian family never used the word pasta- spaghetti or macaroni!) in the grocery stores. What I did find really ticked me off.  All over the parking lots of 3 local groceries were blue plastic gloves discarded.  Why couldn’t the owners deposit them in the trash?  With a crooked stick I found in the cart corral I picked up about 12 discarded pairs and deposited them where they belonged.  I realized this could be a full time job, discarded my stick and continued my search for the elusive macaroni.

As my “staying put” continued I began to straighten out the upstairs bedrooms where my son had stayed.  He had all our old photo albums and what was going to be an organizational procedure wound up being a stroll down Memory Lane.  And what a great way to spend an afternoon.  So many incredible memories that allowed me to escape Covid-19 for several hours.  Now there are several other jobs that are needed— the books on the floor upstairs have to be organized and put away.  The cabinet under my kitchen hutch explodes every time I open the door and allow all the Tupperware and corning ware covered dishes to tumble out onto the floor must be addressed.  My back porch has to be cleaned and dusted so I can sit there when Spring starts to act like Spring.  My garage needs addressing once warmth settles over the area and my gardens need their seasonal grooming.  I just look with desire wanting to get out there and rake and clean but alas still too cold.  

So, many days I sit with my book or my Sudoku and the only parts of me that gets exercised are my mind and my fingers and right now I am ok with that.  Those other things will be there when the world gets healthy again and I can find legitimate reasons not to do them!  I have to stop now do that I can wash my hands and wipe down my phone with a sanitary wipe.

Early in my career in education, I attended a Board of Education meeting where one of the agenda items was the elimination of all Elementary Assistant Principals. As I sat in the dark auditorium, I listened to members of the community come to the microphone to express their opinions on the motion. Many spoke in support of the positions and on behalf of those of us who were about to be terminated. While most referenced the value of the position, they also celebrated the difference we made in the lives of children and families. Several talked about the contributions they felt I made to our particular school community. When it was over and, the Board moved on to the next agenda item, someone who was sitting behind me leaned forward the said, “Isn’t it nice not to have had to die to hear such nice things said about you?”

Years later, I attended a funeral and listened as a member of the family spoke tenderly and lovingly and authentically about the deceased. Having known them both for many years, I was surprised to hear the depth of caring and love that I had never heard or seen in their daily interactions. I found myself wondering if each had indeed known how the other felt.

It’s been my experience that when people speak at a funeral, they put aside the bumps, conflicts, and the “stuff” of life that often comes between people and what is left are the heartfelt feelings of the foundation of their relationship. They remember aloud to the congregation the reason they felt connected to the departed and the values they appreciated and celebrated. And it’s also been my experience to hear some of them remark later on, that they wished they had conveyed those sentiments directly to him or her, while they were alive. Somehow, we seem to think we have plenty of time to get around to those conversations, or we make the assumption that others already know how we feel. I think, often, they don’t.

My purpose here is to pass on an idea I’ve had since those early career days when that voice behind me alerted me to the celebration of my value to others that I was able to hear first hand. What if each of us made the commitment to honor someone we know by hosting a Living Eulogy? We create a venue where we invited friends and family to speak a few words of gratitude and appreciation and to acknowledge the value this person has added to their lives. I believe that most recipients, although a bit uncomfortable, would carry those words and feelings with them for the rest of their lives. And the guests would find joy and comfort in knowing they didn’t wait until it was too late to express their feelings. 

Some time ago, I shared this idea with George and a friend of his. His friend suggested I call it SIN (Say it Now), a phrase that continues the notion of pushing past the discomfort some of us have in sharing our feelings directly with friends and family. That is, we make an agreement with ourselves to seize opportunities to tell people, on the spot, what we appreciate about them. Four months ago, I lost my dear friend Ralph. Although we lived about two hours apart for most of our fifty plus years as friends, we regularly carved out time to see each other. And with each visit, we both found an opportunity to tell each other what our friendship meant to us. When he died, there was no question in my mind that he knew how I felt about him and why. There was nothing left to say other than good-bye.

A year ago last October my close friend Teresa decided to celebrate her dad, Bart.  She had been thinking about it for some time but finally spoke with her siblings and set the date.   Even though he was turning 90 at the end of December and was in relatively good health at the time, she, along with her brothers, invited her dad’s friends and family to a mid October gathering “just because.”  There was lots of sharing of memories, embellished stories that generated lots of belly laughs, and expressions of appreciation and love for this wonderful man.  As I understand it, he felt deeply moved, as did the people who came to celebrate him.  Teresa shared this with me recently.  “Two days after our celebration he was walking to his mailbox and saw his granddaughter and said to her, with his smiling eyes and infectious smile, ‘wasn’t that a great party?”  One week later he was admitted to the hospital for a gall bladder issue and one month later he died of a heart condition.

However we choose to let people know we value them, we should do so when we think of it; there may not be another opportunity…for them or for us.

As always, we’d love to hear your thoughts and stories.

Say it, Show it!

I’ve been to a few Quaker funerals over the years which are celebrations of life rather than the sadness of goodbye’s.  They always uplifted me and I’ve been able to speak at a few of my former students’ funerals.  It is truly an honor to express your impressions and gratitude for being in people’s lives for however long you are given.  My brother’s funeral was also a celebration of his life.  Several former students of his spoke and brought the place to tears.  They even sang a song from one of his musicals that he produced and directed in his  many fifth grade classes. I lost it at that point!

But so much for eulogies!  Life presents itself with many opportunities to share such feelings. Work  related testimonials, retirements, birthday celebrations, TGIF’s at the local pub.  All great opportunities to tell people how significant and important they have been to you.  People are significant in all different ways.  The co worker whose diligence and integrity have always impressed you- tell them right then and there!  The neighbor who mowed your lawn just because-tell them.  Your friends who gave up a Saturday to help you move- tell them. Your kids who did something that made you proud-  tell them. Your partner who showed how much you are loved –  don’t let these moments go unrecognized.  And if it is appropriate and the relationship is close don’t just tell them, show them. Hugs are great incentives to continue being  loving, thoughtful people.

Words have power.  Recently my daughter came to me discouraged about her work and asked me how I dealt with negative feedback and rudeness.  I had to think for a few minutes before I answered her.  I asked her if she had gotten any positive feedback and of course she had.  I asked her to weigh the positive feedback against the negative.  Which would be the most valuable? I advised her never to let go of people’s compliments and gratitude and to remind herself every time she gets criticized of the good things she has been called out for.  I really think she felt better.  I have to do that a lot myself!

In Appreciation

Hen always brings positive gifts to the table. He doesn’t waste time on gossip or negativity – he’s a builder. ‘Constructive’ would be a perfect word to describe Hen’s contribution in any discussion. His idea of a living eulogy builds on the foundational elements of a relationship – putting aside the bumps and conflicts and ‘stuff of life’ that comes between people. Rather, he focuses on what is structural, solid, and praiseworthy in a person’s architecture. 

I love the concept. It guides folks to share their feelings publically – in a group – and directly to an individual. It recognizes the positive effect of the individual’s being-in-the-world. It is affirmative.

Yet, the association of eulogy and death makes me stumble a bit – shouldn’t, but it does. It leads me to think of it as a last rite, which likely is not the impetus of Hen’s idea.  I’d need to rehearse the mechanics of the process, particularly when and how to invoke a living eulogy. Would you introduce the idea to an honoree: “Look, we’re going to hold a living eulogy for you, because you mean so much to us?” Once the event is completed, does that signal permission to slide into end of life? Is it ‘one and done’, and everything goes back to business as usual? If not, what is the logical next step?

Seems like it’s better to express these feelings continually – as Hen and Ralph did. Unfortunately, we don’t do that well enough or regularly enough, which is why Hen proposes the living eulogy. My wife and I discussed Hen’s idea. She felt that even if people felt uncomfortable with public speaking, there is benefit is simply treating this as a mental exercise – planning what you would say and acting on it at a time of your choosing.

Mark Twain famously said that ‘he could live for two months on a compliment’. We all thrive in an environment of positive feedback. I belong to a woodworking club which honors a Member of the Year at our annual dinner. We each get up to talk about the person, remember some past achievement or funny interaction, and provide a plaque and some gag gifts. The honoree feels good, but I believe that the club feels even better:  telling how you feel is a greater gift to the teller, than to the receiver. As well, the honoree is around to participate in the following year’s celebration.

And sure, a living eulogy does not have to be a formal event. What’s important is the regularity. Also, why not pay it forward? After a person is honored, ask that person to select the next honoree and plan the event? Keep it going — not ‘one and done’, but allow folks to be cycled back into the mix.

Talking to yourself out loud isn’t really crazy…right?  What about talking to people out loud who are no longer here?  Is that crazy or therapeutic? Anyway, I am getting ahead of myself. I am the last remaining member of my generation or the one ahead of me. There were 6 significant people in my life who helped mold me, who helped make me a hypochondriac, helped make me insecure,  and who led me to a confidence I didn’t experience until later in life.   I know what I am good at now, I feel secure when I attempt certain things and I think those  6 people are responsible.

For a lot of years I was angry at all of them.  I was angry at my dad cause I never knew if he would be sober or under the influence.  So many holidays were ruined as he was an unkind drunk and usually my mom, brother and I were the targets.  I hesitated bringing friends home for fear of embarrassment.  My friends thought he was great cause he would always make jokes of which I was the brunt.  They thought it was funny while I was dying inside.  Mom worked the midnight to 8 shift at the local hospital so she slept most days. And my brother was 8 years older so he was out of those house and we had little in common til I graduated college.  Then there are my three aunts, Eleanor, Edna and Dot.  They were my safety cushions-unconditional love, always and anywhere. 
They are all gone now.  The anger has been replaced by confusion and then understanding.  As I experienced parenthood I realized not everything is simple, black and white.  I had my daughter’s bedroom door slammed in my face more times than I care to admit to.  I began to realize what a hard job it is to parent. I also realized I wasn’t the easiest kid to deal with either.  
My dad enlisted in the Marine Corps in 1942 and served on Iwo Jima til his discharge in ‘45.  My brother, who knew him before the war said he was a different man when he came home.  I’m sure they had PTSD back then, probably called it shell shock. But the war obviously had an effect on him.  I couldn’t appreciate that cause I didn’t know him before, and he never talked about the war to us.  My anger lasted years after his death.
So what does all this have to do with talking out loud to dead people?  Every night I talk to all 6 of them out loud and in the dark.  The dog thinks I am talking to him!  But I finally know the questions I wanted to ask all of them. I finally  apologized for not appreciating the patience and guidance my mom gave to me. I told my brother how he guided me into a profession I was good at, and thanked my three aunts for their unwavering love of this skinny little kid.  And as a result of these one sided conversations I have a new understanding of how and why things happened and I began seeing some incredibly loving things my dad did for me- the corsages he made for all the girls at my party in 7th grade, the fight he had with my grade school principal when they wanted to retain me in 2nd grade.  My mom was a saint. She had to deal with me daily after working from midnight til 8 AM. I gained a new appreciation of my brother and an admiration for the kind of teacher he was.  i finally was able to verbalize to my aunts how much I appreciated their love and benefited from it.  I’ve asked all of them to give me a sign of some sort to let me know they are still watching over me and my kids.  i talk to them nightly. I love and miss all of them terribly.   Still haven’t heard back from any of them yet but I do believe they heard me and am open to any signs they can give!

Crazy or Therapeutic — Yes!

George raises some interesting questions for all of us.  Do we also speak to people or animals or even places/inanimate objects that were once an interactive part of our lives but are no longer so?

I do.  There are times when I’m alone and ask a question, put forth a gratitude, or declare a feeling to family members or friends who are no longer physically present in my life.  I don’t expect a response but often feel differently after I do.  It sounds therapeutic but, if I’m the only one (other than George) who does this in the world, perhaps it’s crazy.  So what is crazy?

When Wal, George, and I confer we recognize that we often have varying takes on the meaning of a word.  In order to establish that we’re talking about the same thing, Wal often refers us to Wikipedia.  Acting on that habit I found that one section of Wikipedia compares craziness to insanity and madness and describes it as “a spectrum of individual and group behaviors that are characterized by certain abnormal mental or behavioral patterns.”  It goes on to say, however, that a more informal use can refer to someone who is considered “highly unique, passionate or extreme, including in a positive sense.”  Therefore, who is to say whether the behavior George describes is good or bad, helpful or not?  Aren’t they just labels that are meaningful only to the labeler?  (Or does that sound crazy?)

George talks about how the nighttime conversations with his six departed family members have helped him reach new levels of understanding and peace with his past.  As I think about some of the “chats” I’ve had with my people, I realize that speaking aloud to an intentional person (even though they are not physically there) has a more direct effect on how I feel afterwards than just thinking it – silently – to myself.  Is it the physical sound of my own voice offered up to the person/universe that makes the difference?  I wonder.  (I just thought, “I wonder” and typed it but then I said it out loud and it felt different, more intentional.  Interesting.)  Try it!

There is an article in Psychology Today by Arthur Dobrin D.S.W. entitled Conversing with the Dead. “This isn’t talking to ghosts but a continuing source of comfort.”  In it he describes this for some, as a helpful, healing practice.

George closes his piece with him patiently waiting for a sign from each of the family members he spoke to.  I love this part.  My sisters and I would often contact each other when we were certain our mom sent a sign for one of us.  Once it was a sudden gust of wind on a perfectly calm day when a ceremony was taking place and we were all there together.  Other times it was a bird coming closer to us than it should when we were talking about her or a tug on my ear from out of nowhere when I was doing something that I was sure she would disapprove.  I/we have no evidence that it’s her.  But somehow, maybe because we want it to be true, we’re convinced it was mom. 

Crazy?  Therapeutic? What do you think?

Good Grief!

What could be wrong about talking to those people we loved who have transitioned on from this life? I think this is a means of keeping a person’s memory current – it’s instrumental bereavement; it’s good grief!

The psychologists tell us that complex bereavement can go on for years. Sometimes we are left with sentiments that have not been fully expressed, so we keep the conversations going. Having nightly conversations, as George does, is a sort of a role playing experience which keeps those stories alive. It is a way of keeping a connection with the departed, while still moving on with your life. Psychologist J. W. Worden describes these connection activities as the last stage of grieving. Another psychologist, Kenneth Doka might group this activity under ‘rituals of continuity’, which establishes that the departed are still a part of your life. Personally, I like the idea (Carl Jung’s idea) that building myths and stories about the departed is a positive and healthy activity.

The ability to talk out loud to individuals who have left for parts unknown can be therapeutic. Actually speaking the thoughts makes them more intense… after all, you have invested the energy and resolve to make a statement – an observable event (although most of us do this privately — we hope!) Some have termed this ‘directed imagery’ and it is a powerful technique in the healing process

Myself, I enjoy talking to my core family – I don’t expect an answer, but it helps to work out problems and just to say “thanks” (belatedly) for the care and kindness that was exhibited by these folks. And also to apologize for not understanding then, what you have come to understand now. It sure sounds like that is the gist of what Geo and Hen do as well.

Of course, as Hen points out, “crazy” is defined by the culture – it is outlier behavior. In a general sense, speaking to the dead may be crazy if it is obsessive; if it disables a person’s ability to effectively function in the living world. However, there are shades of gray here. I know spouses who refuse to erase the voicemail messages and telephone greeting recorded by departed spouses… and others who name pets after loved ones who have left life behind. Crazy? I don’t think so, but probably not therapeutic either.

On the other hand, you can go further down this road: digital reconstruction. All it takes is a zettabyte (yes, this is a thing) of information and Artificial Intelligence applications will – within the next decade — be able to create a digital ‘departed loved one’ that can respond to your emails and texts. This entity will use all the data known about the loved one and fashion thoughts and responses based on their experiences and predilections. See https://qz.com/896207/death-technology-will-allow-grieving-people-to-bring-back-their-loved-ones-from-the-dead-digitally/.

Or perhaps those desirous of keeping in touch real time may opt for the solutions offered through Guiding Echoes courses, such as Connect with Deceased Friends and Family, an online course advertised to “teach you to connect with loved ones who have passed away whenever and wherever you want”. You can ‘hang out’ or converse with those who have transitioned, according to the course’s author. Quirky, crazy? I don’t know – maybe it works. I guess each of us has a scale on which we rank these inclinations from healthy to quirky, along some continuum or another.

Well, it’s my turn to write the lead post – and I have an idea that I’d like to develop. But it is the usual struggle to figure out what to exclude to keep to about 600-800 words (could you write an 600 word essay on Art, for instance – might have to narrow that down a little?). In fact, the title of this piece is a bit of a double entendre: how to manage the words in our blog space, as well as discussing living in outer space. Okay, let’s proceed with both goals:  I’m going to describe a passion and conclude with a question… after all, this blog is about sharpening different points of view and I’m interested in your thoughts – so read on!

Now you have probably heard that the United States has inaugurated a Space Force (USSF) this past December. The nucleus of the USSF is the Space Operations Command (SPOC) Yes, SPOC! Whoa…!  They will be staffed by military types initially, but the plan is to create civilian career paths within the force as well. Pretty soon there will be xenobiologists, astrophysicists, social scientists, geologists, project managers and insurance salespeople joining the center. (Hey, risk insurance is huge).

Sign me up! I have been submersed in space exploration since childhood. The Moody Blues declared in their tribute to Timothy Leary that “Thinking is the best way to travel…” I simply add “space” to the premise. Of course, much of my initial exposure was a passive reception of the subject. Analog Fact and Fiction magazine has had a place in our family home before I could walk, back when it was Astounding Stories. (Note: these stories were not just ‘pretty good’ – they were Astounding!) I joined a book club at nine and read among other titles, the Gray Lensman series by E.E. ‘Doc’ Smith. (The lensman were galactic police who were equipped with the Arisian lens, which augmented their powers of mental control in order to protect the universe). Clearly, the Space Force could use these tools! And don’t forget the powers of the telepathic Slans created by A.E. van Vogt… in fact, some sci-fi fans have adopted the rallying cry: “Fans are Slans!”

At ten years old, I still remember the warm summer night when I started to read Ray Bradbury. It was like someone opened a door in my mind. Not only were the stories fresh, but the writing was excellent. And that’s the point: Science Fiction opened up POSSIBILITIES.

My tastes grew into the type of content that focused on living arrangements and day-to-day life in space. The Alliance-Union universe created by C.J. Cherryh described space traders plying their routes between spaceports – each ship a self-contained tribe and business staffed by generations of one family; essentially long haul space peddlers.  Daily life on the ship is driven by main-day and alter-day shifts, since day and night have no meaning in space.

These “story universes” portray possibilities in human cultural change as we adapt to new environments. Larry Niven’s (and Jerry Pournelle’s) Ringworld series features a lot of the hard science that would be necessary for a stable life style in long orbit. I’m not sure if Niven invented the term ‘Belters’ – those miners and traders that made their homes in proximity to the asteroid belt in our solar system, but you may have seen the social system they formed in episodes of The Expanse. Niven described how their bodies would have changed during generations in weightless or low gravity conditions in space – growing taller, darker, and more slender – and developing their own patois and libertarian ethos: a loose affiliation of free thinking pioneers. Sure, some of you will say, ‘You haven’t mentioned Heinlein, Asimov, Philip K. Dick, trekkies, wookies, Firefly, or other favorite sci-fi themes – see, even more possibilities!

Possibilities!

Many science fiction authors have built themes over a large body of work, perhaps nine or ten books devoted to exploring societal change charged with new environmental challenges and interspecies contact.  A favorite is the “Humanx universe” created by Alan Dean Foster. In this reality, humans and the poetic thranx (large mantis type insectoids) partner to explore new worlds, while adapting to each other’s cultural and physical differences.  I’ve encountered literally hundreds of different alien species! The Space Force needs this type of expertise – I’m waiting for their call.

Possibilities!

Because life is not just about connecting dots – it’s about finding new dots! It’s about opening portals. Now don’t get me wrong, I love reading other material as well. I’ve gravitated (pardon the pun) to alternately reading three books at any one time: equal measures of non-fiction, literature, and escapist fiction like sci-fi. Non-fiction keeps me grounded; literature softens my heart, but sci-fi lets me fly! So tell me: What reading sparks your imagination?

My Life in the Woods

I can always count on Wal to fire up my thinking and to cause me to dig deeper as I respond to his thoughtful and measured queries. 

As a child, I was not a reader.  While I could read adequately and on grade level, I wasn’t drawn to books as much as I was to experiential activities and television (You know, that large heavy fat box with cathode tubes inside and a black and white screen on the outside that was activated by getting up and turning a knob and that, if you tilted the rabbit ears just so, enable you to view five or maybe 6 channels!)

However, I do remember being enamored with two books that also each became a TV mini series: Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone. Both put me in awe of the adventures of woodsmen whose character and body were forged by rugged living in the natural environment.  However, having grown up in the Bronx it was unlikely I would be running down White Plains Road wearing a coonskin cap! But when I turned eight years we moved to an acre of property in the Hudson Valley that backed up to over one hundred acres of woods.  There I was convinced that emulating this folk hero would mould the man I would one day become.  As I often roamed the nearby forest most afternoons and weekends, I would imagine myself as a young Crockett or Boone, moving silently through the brush, leaving no footprints or evidence that neither man nor beast could detect.  I dreamed of easily eluding bad guys by escaping into the woods or perching in a tree, silently observing evil deed doers until I would stealthily swoop down to save the day!  These readings, further illustrated by Fess Parker, the actor who portrayed these clever, adaptive, adventurous, multi-talented backwoodsmen, tapped into something within that would remain a constant influence in my life.

I still play in the woods and I still try to move silently as I walk daily with Duke.  And, occasionally I seek to camouflage myself near a log or behind a large rock to see if I can blend seamlessly enough to disappear from Duke’s senses.  What was once a childhood escape into imaginary storybook characters remains yet today, a source of comfort and connection.

Wal wondered about living in space; I dreamed of living in the woods.

Paws and Rails

Growing up in NYC I was usually out in the streets playing with all the kids from my block til the street lights came on.  I was and still am a very slow reader so it took me a while to get through a book.  But while Wal was lost in space and Hen was following animal tracks in the woods, I was in one of two fictional places.  I read every book by a man named Albert Payson Terhune.  My favorite was a book called A Dog Named Chips, but I read every one of his dog stories and I was lost in a world of saving helpless animals from horrible situations.  I would fantasize about saving a poor neglected dog, whose loyalty to me would wind up saving me at some point in the future.  I had quite a collection of pets growing up, cats and dogs but also birds, fish, and turtles.  My premier success was a goldfish that lived in a big bowl for over 8 years.  During those formative years I really believed I would grow up to be a veterinarian.

When I wasn’t rescuing fictional animals in my imagination I was riding the rails, a hobo in a boxcar traveling across the country, meeting other fictional hoboes and discovering life outside of NYC.  This interest came from the only activity my brother, father and I ever did together. My dad bought each of us our own Lionel train set.  My brother’s was a prewar metal set and mine was a 1954 plastic steam engine with all the colorful boxcars. Both of which I still have and still work!  My dad made a platform that took up half the living room floor and came out every Christmas when we would put up our Christmas village.  My imagination would run wild. That got me interested in a series of books called Ralph on the Rails written by a man named Allen Chapman.  Ralph’s adventures had me traveling the rails with him.  He experienced train wrecks, switch towers, riding with the engineer, riding the midnight express and many other incredible adventures.  And as a friend of Ralph I got to experience it too.   Perhaps it is funny how these childhood fantasies can carry over into our adult lives but in my case, I have been fortunate enough to have shared my life with all kinds of furry friends who have enriched my life and priceless memories of my brother, father and I creating this miniature and imaginary world.  The Ralph books just enhanced my love of trains and allowed my imagination to fly not into outer space but across this land on two rails.

I never completely did…on purpose!

I often listened to friends talk about growing up.  Usually it meant being a little older so they could stay out later, drive a car, have a girlfriend, live alone, have their own money and their own rules.  Growing up represented freedoms with little thought given to the affiliated responsibilities.

When asked what I wanted to do when I grew up I would immediately remind myself to find something into which I could weave a sense of play.  (And my play would often occur in the woods near our development, with or without friends, but almost always with my dog.)  Play to me was the freedom that others found in more “mature” pursuits.

I always wanted to be superman or, if that position was already filled, Daredevil.

I really never had a calling.  I knew what I didn’t want to do when I grew up.  I didn’t want to have to wear a suit and tie to work each day and I didn’t want to do boring, routinized work.

When I reached college, I took liberal arts courses for as long as I could and then, when faced with a need to declare a major, I took a career survey offered to those of us who were undecided about a clear direction or purpose.  While I scored high in social careers, especially in helping people, the unquestionable recommendation for me was to become a forest ranger!  Imagine that!  Even though it was indicated that I would be successful working in groups and among people, my destiny also appeared to be in a solo connection with the woods, an isolated steward of the environment.   And, since my school didn’t offer that major I chose by default, elementary education.  Thus began my answer to the question, “What do you want to do when you grow up?”

As my family and friends and colleagues all know, I’ve loved every part of my career in education and in my subsequent work as a leadership trainer and coach.  But, today, despite my part-time coaching work with area school districts and social service organizations, I find myself living alone, playing in the woods (almost always with my dog), and caring for my twenty-two acres of forest.  And while I have grown older, since I’m still doing what I always loved as a child, perhaps I’ve redefined growing up!

What did you want to do as a child when you grew up?      

When I Grow Up…

I remember as a kid wondering what I would be when I grew up.  Today it’s a cowboy, yesterday I wanted to be a fireman(when I was a kid occupations were gender specific- there were no firefighters or flight attendants or female actors).  And tomorrow I might decide to be a doctor(one of the few professions where gender wasn’t specific, along with lawyer and teacher).  Maybe professions weren’t gender assigned but occupations were.  Interesting!  Anyway, as my childhood moved into my teen years I really hadn’t given much thought to my future, just whether I’d make it home from school in time to watch American Bandstand.  Or whether I would see the Beatles on The Ed Sullivan show for their premiere engagement in the US.  Those things were important , more so than plotting out my future.  

Then college came and I sort of fell into education because I had an aunt and a brother who became teachers.  Not a whole lot of forethought and planning went into it.  I just kind of followed suit and fortunately discovered that not only did I enjoy it but I was good at it!

So with the marching of time came new opportunities.  Now what?  Marriage, a family, a house- all new and exciting adventures and steadily they all were accomplished.  So now what?  Long years passed, slowly at first but more quickly as more years piled up.  What will I be when I grow up turned into did I grow up and now what?  Life got in the way, big changes occurred and now retirement was approaching.  What will I be was replaced by what will I do now?  

And suddenly a new career was in front of me with a whole new set of challenges and rewards.  But now in my 8th decade(how the hell did that happen?) the rewards are fewer and farther between when weighed on the scale of my youth and the challenges are more physically connected- like can I get out of the chair, or will my knee give out.  But weighed on a new scale smaller rewards have greater joys, like it being ok to take time to have a leisure lunch with a friend or smell the familiar and comforting fragrance when you open the door to your own house.  These are real pleasures even if the smell is of your dog or old laundry- it is yours! 

But I guess the question of what will I be when I grow up is still valid.  There is always more growing up to do but in a much more limited time frame.  Now,  I’ve lost friends and family members and my immediate family consists of three of us-  no more huge family gatherings that I used to love because they are all gone.  It puts into question how much more growing up is left. How much more quality time is left. How much more rewards are left as opposed to challenges and health concerns.  Well, we’ll know as it happens now, but the question of what will I be when I grow up is no longer something for the distant future anymore.  It is here and now.  Now I have to live in the here and now and take the challenges, pleasures and rewards as they come and with gratitude.  And that isn’t such a bad thing.  Too bad I couldn’t have learned that sooner but I was too worried about what I would be when I grew up!

When I Grow UP

How interesting it is that when you are a kid, the phrase ‘When I grow up…’ is usually followed by ‘I want to be a [insert occupational choice] ‘. Like Hen and Geo, my journey started with fantasy picks and developed through a series of realistic trade-offs. Seems like we followed a similar arc – and I’d guess that most people do. If you had asked, I would have stated that I’d be ‘grown-up’ by age 24. Little did I suspect that I’d be husband and father by 21. Lots of practical decisions had to be made. My evolution of job choices went something like this:

1. Tribal elder and scout: No good: I didn’t have a tribe
2. Aircraft designer: It’s what I thought my Dad did
3. Artist: It’s what I thought my Mom did
4. Anthropologist: Find out what the Etruscans did – but no, too much travel
5. Psychologist:  Maybe I should help others figure out what to do
6. Process analyst: How do things get done, anyway?
7. Manager: Which things should get done?
8. Consultant: Help others get things done (which turns out to be a key component of #7)

In college, I studied anthropology and psychology. When I concluded that studying other cultures might make for an irregular home life, I decided to focus on helping other people make up their minds on occupational goals. Hen talked about how a vocational work-up seemed to have captured some enduring interests. My Dad had the same experience doing an occupational profile at NJIT many years ago, and it sort of predicted his career as a liaison engineer. I figured, well, maybe I could be one of those folks who created those tests. Graduate school offered an opportunity to specialize in that area. Two graduate degrees and the first chapter of a PhD dissertation completed, I painted myself into a corner: too specialized for my employer’s needs and family life too compromised by constant commuting to Manhattan. So, additional adjustments were required over the years: positions in Human Resources, Management Training, Planning, and Operations. It was fine — I enjoyed the challenge of learning new jobs. My last assignment allowed me to work with other cultures to reshape business processes and applications – didn’t meet any Etruscans, though…

Through all that and the busy-ness of family life, the main focus for me was to be task oriented, sometimes to the detriment of relationships and good social judgment. Retirement has freed-up time to consider what type of person I can still BECOME. Hopefully, I’d like to think that I’ve grown up, grown old, but am still growing out…

After commiserating with my blog mates who felt my submission was a little down, I decided to review what I wrote.  What I realized is that this last week I was surrounded by some very sad news, sickness and accidents of three people very close to me.  When I wrote the following, I had awakened in the middle of the night and couldn’t get my friends off my mind.  Two of them suffering from disease and one from a terrible fall down a flight of cellar stairs.  Perhaps my mind was focused on the negative.  Lying in the dark room like that allows the demons to come to the forefront and I believe my piece, though admittedly a little down as a result, was actually a true reflection of where I was at that particular moment in the night.   Those thoughts tend to soften with the light of day and the need to look toward the future.    Wally reminded me that I don’t carry around that bleak of an attitude most of the time.  I did try to insert some comedic relief even at that hour of the night.  Thanks for your understanding.  I believe we probably all have our dark moments when our defenses are down and there is no one around to bring us up.

This may be a little rambling as my thoughts on this topic ramble from one day to the next. Maybe it is my mental state or my inability to focus on any one thing at a time.  I don’t claim that this is how all folks in their 70’s think or feel but perhaps some others can empathize with my plight.  There is a lot on my mind.  In fact my mind becomes incredibly active around 2 to 3 AM.  It is dark, scary, I know the boogie man is probably under the bed waiting for me to drop my arm over the side.  Funny how things I used to fear as a child come back to haunt in those glorious golden years.  It is in those dark hours that the demons that have been hiding through my 30’s, 40’s and 50’s come out  unleashed and unhindered to play with my mind.  Those are the times my worst fears seem most reasonable without the light of day to dismiss them.

I am soon to be 74.  My immediate family all passed by their 74th brthday, so naturally I have some trepidation about this upcoming birthday.  I feel as if my world is shrinking.  That doesn’t terrorize me or anything, it is just factual.  Raised in a large Italian /Welsh family our holidays consisted of 15 to 20 kids, cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents yelling and laughing, singing and arguing at dinner.  That was the norm. It felt safe, comfortable, and predictable.  I liked that.  But now, being the last living member of my generation or above it seems lonely. Holidays with the 3 of us fall kind of short.   I can’t even call my brother and ask him if he remembers the time Aunt Eleanor dumped the pasta on my dad’s lap or was it Aunt Edna?  My family stories are fading and I have no one to run it by for verification.  So the size of my world is shrinking.

But it is more than that.  My body is unable to do things that I am sure I did just a year ago. That is unsettling cause it means my mobility or my stamina has shrunk as well.  As you grow through the decades of your life your body becomes better at things. Things you were incapable of performing in your 20’s somehow become easy in the 30’s.  Not true of things you did easily in your 50’s.  They suddenly become monumental in your 60’s. Or at least that is how it is in this body. I used to be 5’7″ tall but all of a sudden when I visited the doctor in my 70’s I have shrunk (I must admit my shoe size increased in all honesty).  Actually senior citizen maturity does have benefits, maybe because it is harder getting up out of a chair, we tend to be more reflective, more patient, less judgmental.  In the past, if my kids said something upsetting I would lunge out of my chair and go on a rampage- you know the  kind….I walked 9 miles to school in the snow, or we didn’t have phones to tell us how to get to places, we had to learn how to read maps.  You get the idea.  But now because I have to push up on the arms of the chair, make sure my legs are under me and then take a few moments longer to straighten up, the drama of “flying” out of the chair to make a point is replaced out of necessity to reflect on things before opening my mouth.  So perhaps patience and reflection are more features of immobility than wisdom!

I have no grandchildren.  I can see how they would certainly increase the size of your world. I don’t wish I had some, my kids just never married.  If I had grandkids I would probably be up at 2 AM this morning wondering what their lives would be like.  Would they have water to drink, clean air to breathe, flowers and wildlife to enjoy.  Better I don’t have any!  I guess I just have to get used to the world I am in now, shrunken as it is, it is all I’ve got.

I wrote this 2 years ago, just thought I would include it.

I’m already 71 years old

     the “Golden Years” so I’ve been told

But gold begins to lose its shine 

     somewhere around 59!

Hair’s the first that goes

     followed soon by achy toes.

Thumbs and wrists hurt next

     and other joints that used to flex.

Indigestion and heart burn pills 

     needed nightly to ease those ills.

Blood pressure and cholesterol rise

     despite my doctor’s endless sighs

Not to mention liver spots…

     who the Hell needs old age blots?

Now the memory starts getting weak,

     Check the  fridge for the keys I seek

Who knows what’s next to make me “blue”

     ’cause inside a year, I’m 72!

Work with What You’ve Got

I respect what Geo has written – and the place from which these feelings emanate. He and I share some of those demographics (losing our parents and brother prior to age 74 – and some physical challenges). These are areas that do narrow your perspective.

However, if folks will allow me a little faith space, I agree with Paul of Tarsus who said that adversity builds character and character leads to hope – and hope does not disappoint. So I’d suggest to Geo – stir a little bit of hope into his cup of worry.

I don’t know about ‘golden years’, but I think that we are lucky to have gotten to a point in life where we can sit back and reflect a little. It’s just a respite from some of the hard things in life we’ll go back to facing soon. Life is a struggle after all – but a glorious struggle! (And if you feel it is not, well, make it so!). Work with what you’ve got.

Everything has a season for sure. You might say that life is like a garden where different plants bloom at different times. Or you might say that when one skill starts to degrade that you find another modality of which you were not aware. I’m not as strong or fast or virile as I used to be – that makes me sad. But I’m switching gears to focus on creative tasks and finding ways to extend my tennis life: my goals are just more attenuated. And sure, there are times when it seems that my loved ones and I are just on a conveyor belt headed toward end of life. Unfortunately, that’s the way it is. But I’m still glad to be where I am in the cycle. And I don’t feel alone.  My faith helps me believe that there is a presence traveling with me – as near to me as my own breath. And I’m pleased with all the small miracles that occur each day, despite the headlines and negativity. It also makes me happy to say thanks for these items that go well, even when you did not expect it. So diminished I am – and more diminished will become… but I will work with what I’ve got.

It’s What We Feed Ourselves

George reminds us that all is not necessarily gold in the golden years.  And, there are times that try our patience, wisdom, and sense of being grounded despite our seven decades of life experience.  For even those of us who can live rather comfortably in retirement, the steady decline in our physical and mental functioning can be overwhelming. Our circle of friends and family grows smaller at an increasing rate and our sense of being valuable and important to those we love slowly transforms into a feeling of being a liability.  Ugh!  What’s so golden about that?

But here comes Wal to the rescue!  He gives us hope.  He suggests that we grab the bull by the horns and do what we can with what we still have to make the best of it.  He inspires me to find ways to be of value, to think smarter in pickle ball games to make up for my slower reflexes, and to find fun in whatever I can.  He reminds me that I can’t change those things outside of my sphere of influence but I can have a positive impact on those things I can influence.  And, as Wal taps into the realm of faith to assist him, I’m also reminded of the Serenity Prayer – written by American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr.

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

Courage to change the things I can,

And the wisdom to know the difference”

This topic also reinforces my belief in the notion that we can convince ourselves of most anything, often by spending time thinking about it and surrounding ourselves with people who reinforce what we think.  This works well if we’re happy and in a place of fulfillment.  If we’re not, I suggest we need to spend more time thinking differently and more time with people who are happy and content.  (A notion I gathered from the Law of Attraction?) And Henry Ford supports the idea of intention this way: “Whether you think you can, or you think you can’t –you’re right.”

In addition, I appreciate the opportunity to talk about the Golden Years as it pertains to not only the leisure years after retirement but also a kind of beginning of the end of life.  While this is likely another blog topic, I’m wondering if any of you have any conversations about the final years with family or friends.

Hen featured The Four Agreements in his last post – one of which is to attain impeccability of one’s word. This chapter really resonated with me. However, I may rename this post to Be “Impeccabl” with Your Word, because it is a huge expectation. Not sure I can get all the way to Impeccable — honestly, I’ll be happy to just get close.

Being true to one’s word is a pervasive theme in ethics and philosophy. The focus is not just on veracity, but also taking care with what one says, avoiding gossip and snarky comments, etc. Word is bond. No trash talk. Loose lips sink ships.

In Greek philosophy and theology, “word” (logos) is an elemental concept: “the divine reason implicit in the cosmos, ordering it and giving it form and meaning”, according to the Britannica. ‘Word’ describes the essence of a thing. To know the essence of a thing and express its name is powerful. In some cultures there are ‘true’ names that are never revealed to others just for this reason. So impeccability is important. It drives home the tidiness of thinking and the economy of speaking that is the product of careful consideration. It presupposes an internal discipline and a firm foundation of guiding principles. It requires clear vision. It’s the sort of condition that one does not expect to be born with – rather it is the hard won product of survival, lessons learned, and dexterity of mind.

So, impeccability of word also implies impeccability of actions and choices.

In this connection, I learned a new word: Eudaemonism. Apparently, Aristotle defined the state of eudaemonia as ‘living and doing well’ and felt that this condition was associated with achieving virtue or excellence, requiring virtuous activity. In the Greek sense, virtue is a bit broader than the moral context, but rather focuses on achieving perfection in one’s pursuits: impeccability. Aristotle set a high bar!

I like the definition in Wikipedia:

“Eudaimonia [sic] as a self-discovery, perceived development of one’s best potentials, a sense of purpose and meaning in life, intense involvement in activities, investment of significant effort, and enjoyment of activities as personally expressive, deep relationships”

To me, this sounds like a worthy goal and the work of a lifetime. When I think about all the words I wish were never said, my stock is going down: perhaps I can only hope to attain “Impecc” of Word after all.

The Power of Your Words

Thank you Wal for continuing this conversation.  Of all the issues, bumps, and causes for sleepless nights it’s often words said or unsaid that are at the root cause.  Ruiz gives us a comprehensive look at what is involved in being impeccable and, I agree, achieving a portion of impeccability is all I can hope for.  However, I believe that this is what the author intended.  By making an agreement with ourselves to maintain a level of awareness about how we use our word, is the goal.  Setting an expectation of mastering it to perfection is to set us up for yet another disappointment.

I have often thought about the concept Ruiz brings forth about gossip.  As I understand it, not only is it inappropriate to talk negatively about others with those who would listen, but to talk about others for any reason, without their presence is still gossip.  So, I find that although I choose to follow his intention about using my word only for positive intention, I have excused myself from the label of gossip, when I speak positively of someone who is not present.  And therein, lies my challenge.  That is, too often we modify definitions of words to suit our needs or present behaviors: an excuse to avoid the hard work of changing old habits.  While I don’t feel this excuse I’ve granted myself is an example of this, I am conscious of how easy it is to make my own rules.  Just a thought among many thoughts…

While the heart is arguably the most powerful part of the human body, a friend of mine would argue that it is the mouth. He contends that what comes out of our mouths can do enormous good or extreme damage to not only ourselves but to countless others.  I dare say he was right. 

I am being impeccable when I say how much I am appreciating each of you, George and Wal, for creating and sustaining this journey.

The Appeal of the Snark

Wal, as I was reading this a couple of thoughts came to mind and a couple of reactions came to heart. The first thing of course was what an admirable concept this is and how we should all strive to achieve it.  Then my heart sank– no “snarky” comments?  Damn– I didn’t even exist in teenage society ‘til my snarkiness matured. That was how I got noticed, laughed at and with by the rest of adolescent society.  It was the only way I could fit in, impress and have a personality.  To this day, snarky comments comfort me like a warm blanket as a bastion of protection, a wall paper to protect me, and make me prettier than I feel.

The impeccability of my word comes when I make a promise.  If I say I’ll meet you at 2, I’ll be there at 1:45, totally willing to wait ‘til 2.  I don’t think I have ever missed an appointment and was ever late.  But then what about the little white lies we tell when we know they aren’t true.  “You don’t look a day over 50,” if you could erase those crow’s feet around your eyes and grow a head of hair again.  Is that impeccability?  It makes the other person feel good, which is admirable but in reality you look like Hell.  Would that be impeccable to say that to him?  It wouldn’t seem very nice!  Here’s someone I can finally quote…..Thumper’s Mom said, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all!”  Maybe even here I am being snarky, but impeccability of words requires the good with the bad……and to what end?  But I digress!  By the way, you and Hen looked like young stallions today!  

Many years ago I was part of a group called, The Caring Community.  Founded by a dear friend and colleague who was a facilitator and trainer in the area of human relations, the group was designed to bring diverse people together to spend time in community.  (He defined community as a place where people felt valued, accepted, and connected.)  This time in community was accomplished by way of our focus on personal growth and by regular participation in community service. Throughout our time together each of us contributed unique skill sets, experiences, and resources.  One of these resources was a book suggested by a participant who found it to be of great value.

The Four Agreements, by Don Miquel Ruiz offers a powerful code of conduct to recognize and free us from blindly following self-limiting beliefs and practices. Each agreement is more of a direction than a goal.  Followed conscientiously, they help diminish drama, reduce stress, and offer a personal context from which to make good decisions.  In other words, it helps us to better hear others and ourselves outside of our habitual practices.

I chose to write about this book as a means of offering a way to mitigate the divisive, angry, and polarizing language, we hear daily: the sounds of ideas, attitudes, and emotions we feed ourselves and that both justify what we believe to already be true and that cause us to dig in to protect our perceptions.  And while none of this is new in the history of mankind, it is more rampant and extreme than I have seen or felt in my lifetime.  And what I’m not hearing are alternatives to address these differences with civility, compassion, and understanding.

(There are many other models and authors which offer ideas for how to listen to self and to others.  I chose this one because it works best for me.)

To that end I offer the following taken from The Four Agreements:

Be Impeccable With Your Word

Speak with integrity.  Say only what you mean.  Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others.  Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.

Don’t Take Anything Personally

Nothing others do is because of you.  What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream.  When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.

Don’t Make Assumptions

Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want.  Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness, and drama.  With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.

Always Do Your Best

Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick.  Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse, and regret.

If we applied these agreements to our thinking and our practice, perhaps we might then hold the same conversations over the same issues with less anger and judgement and with the purpose of finding common ground rather than trying to convince others to abandon their perspective and see it our way.

I’d be interested to hear your viewpoints, any thoughts on The Four Agreements, or any books you may have read that you found to be a powerful influence in your life.

How Do You Heal a Country?

How do you heal a country?  How do you protect your own ideals while accepting those of others who are diametrically opposed to your way of thinking and how do you avoid contributing to the overwhelming lack of civil discourse that can often erupt through conflicting expressions of what is right and wrong, factual or fiction?  That seems to be where our country is stuck right now. 

We have to heal and in order to do that we have to find a path to help us heal.  Henry lays out a plan based on the integrity of our word and the desire to work things out.  Mr Kraftowitz , my 7th grade English teacher,  used to say that the mark of an intelligent person is not that he has a lot to say but that he listens!  Something I often struggle with.   I often find myself forming my next point In my head rather than listening to what the other person is saying.  As a result I haven’t learned anything.  I know I do this.  I assume many others do as well, and instead of hearing we are talking passed each other resulting in nothing being achieved.

Are the civil wounds  too great to heal?  Are there things we actually can agree on- facts that both sides can agree are valid and necessary to take into account? Maybe once we can agree to that perhaps we can begin a true meeting of the minds. Currently, this seems to be particular tricky.  We cling to the facts as we see them and can’t understand why everyone doesn’t see them the same.

I hate to admit that I tend to be a half empty glass kind of person.  My personal experience was that if I didn’t expect much I wouldn’t be disappointed.  And for a long time in my youth that served me well.

I guess that’s why I’m not sure Henry’s approach would work.  One has to assume for it to work, both/all parties have to want to mend the gap,  agree to be impeccable with their words and are both in search of common ground.  My half empty glass wonders if those factors can become aligned.  I sincerely hope it is possible because something has to happen for us to begin healing. Holding on to personal emotions, beliefs, and ideas in stubborn refusal to let go for fear of who knows what will only enlarge the wound and make civil discourse divide us more.

We Did Not Start the Fire

Before the introduction of the term, “Fake News”, I rode up in an elevator with my social psychology professor, who said: “There are no such things as facts”. He was making the point that all data are interpreted through the lens of the viewer. While there may not be ‘facts’, there’s no shortage of information. According to the Pew Research Institute in 2018, 68% of Americans suffer from news fatigue. Social media has exponentially added to this burst of ‘facts’.

In this time of tweeting, retweeting, and forwarding posts of like-minded opinions, I wonder whether anyone is interested in real discourse — lots of pots, lots of stirring. Hen has made a great point about active listening – and make no mistake, it requires discipline It seems rather that people are seeking confirmation of their own opinions. We’re becoming prisoners of our own ‘metadata’ defined by any one of a number of groups to which we identify.

Geo says that the passion invested in various opinions can prevent an understanding of another’s point of view. In order for rational discourse to occur, each of us needs to submerge our ‘need to persuade’ from the ‘need to repeat back’ someone else’s position so that they can feel understood. It is important to really listen rather than formulating a response while the other person is talking. Understanding does not equal agreement, but it may lead to new ideas and constructive action.  The Four Agreements is a very insightful book as Hen describes. I’d also recommend David Brooks’ The Second Mountain, in particular, his work with diverse groups to formulate community actions.

Conflict management is messy. As Billy Joel sang: “We didn’t start the fire, it’s been always burning since the world’s been turning”. We ought to be sure that we are not the ones stoking the fire.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to write about this time.  Nothing seemed to grab me.  I have been in a kind of low place as I have a recurring pain in my neck that no one seems to be able to help alleviate.  The doctor, the massage therapist and the physical therapist seem to keep trying things that don’t touch the pain.  So with that on my mind and with the holidays approaching I have been at a loss.  Not being able to do much physically due to the pain, I have been sitting with heat pads and ice packs and have had a lot of time to be inside my head.  There are places I would rather be!  I noticed that my emotions have been very tender of late.  I hear a song and I start to tear up.  I read an article in the newspaper about a kitten that followed a man walking his dog back to his house and the man took the kitten in and I lost it.  A pattern was developing and I realized this has been happening more and more often in the last few months.

Everything seems to “touch” me more than it used to.  I watch a movie and I better have tissues nearby because I know somewhere in the movie something is going to bring me to tears.  I have always been a sensitive person and easy to express my feelings but this is something beyond that sensitivity. Maybe I am in a nostalgic period of my life where all these things take me back to positive memories from my childhood or from different events.  I was thinking back today when I was an innkeeper and reminiscing about the good times and fun I had in that position and sure enough I began to cry.  And it is a funny cry- I feel my face distort, the tears come and then disappear almost as quickly as they came.

Perhaps the approach of the holidays have brought me to this tender point.  My daughter and I are going to a local restaurant for Thanksgiving.  My son moved away recently and can’t make it back for the holiday.  I was fine with it all until I began to reminisce about holidays in the past.  They were filled with relatives, vast amounts of Italian food, noise, arguments, laughter- things I often dreaded at the time. But now I miss them terribly and sadness diminishes the memory.  I love spending time with my daughter but it just isn’t the same anymore. I think she feels the same way although when they were kids they used to hate opening their Christmas gifts and then having to rush off to get to NYC in time for dinner with the family.

I also think the time change and the change in the weather have affected my outlook as well.  The days have been gray and daylight is short and I can’t seem to muster up enthusiasm for much of anything.  I know some people are affected by the lessening of daylight but that had never bothered me before.  I suddenly understand why holidays can be very lonely times for people.  Coming from a family that would have 14 or so people for Christmas dinner every year to just the 2 or 3 of us has been very difficult to accept.  It is amplified by the holidays, I just wish I had a way to move passed it.  Now with Christmas music everywhere it becomes difficult to escape.  I am trapped in a world of happy holiday music and good cheer all around and I can’t appreciate it.

But in reality, the difficult realization is that I and my two kids are all that is left of my family and that leaves me with a very empty, and sometimes scared feeling in my heart. I guess I just have to accept the fact that my emotions are askew, and that I can be brought to tears in an instant, both wonderful things and sad things bring them on.  Along with old age maybe more than just the body gets arthritis.  Maybe I have arthritis of the emotions.  I will survive, I will adjust and accept and conquer.  But I probably will be brought to tears anytime I see something tender, hear or see something beautiful- yes, beauty does it to me as well!  The last time I was in Italy in my grandfather’s village I walked into the little hotel and they were making sauce.  The smell of that sauce brought me right back to my dad’s kitchen and, you guessed it, I began to cry!

A Rising Tide

They say a rising tide lifts all boats. It’s the same with emotion, which sort of wells up around the holidays and makes itself known in ways that George describes. No doubt most of us experience that bittersweet feeling of enjoying the present, while missing the past. Sometimes we are surprised by the strength of that feeling. The holiday season has so many strong associations that it is hard to simply remove yourself from cherished memories.

I confess to feeling blue around this time of year, missing my brother, mother, and father… and realizing that my kids are developing their own traditions independent from my wife and I. We are coming to grips with the fact that our time is passing and we are shifting into a less central role than we have played previously. In a way, this is welcome, because the ‘downshifting’ needs less energy. However, I don’t want the important people in my life — now gone — to be forgotten in the process of building those new traditions.

I’m moved by advice provided by a couple of smart individuals: Carl Jung and Erik Erikson. Jung talked about the importance of making myths and Erikson pointed to age-related challenges that must be addressed to remain psychologically healthy.

Jung has this mystic quality that is incorporated into his scheme of psychoanalytic thought. What I take from his writings is that it is important to stay in continuance with our past by reinforcing stories – or myths – that keep our history alive. My job is to retell – and maybe embellish – tales about my forebears to maintain the currency of those lost loved ones. Don’t we all do this? Friends get together and relive ‘war stories’ and old memories. We’re making myths – in a good way! I try to do that with my sons and grandsons. It honors those who have passed and gives me a role as a ‘creative historian’. Hopefully these myths provide significant life lessons as well as honoring people and times past. Erikson laid out a theory of developmental challenges as we grow. The generativity challenge has to do with a decision we make either to a) share our experiences and mentor others as we age or b) draw inward and focus on ourselves and our problems. Of course, we occasionally have a foot in both camps, but the latter choice tends to build a closed system over time. I’d rather acknowledge what I miss, take the best of it and reach out for new opportunities. Joni Mitchell sang “…something’s lost, but something’s gained in living every day”. Synthesize and celebrate, my friends!

Deep Waters — Surface Emotions

I love George’s newly coined medical disease – arthritis of the emotions!  Yup!  I too, contracted the same condition over the last few years.  However, my affliction is not necessarily triggered by only the holidays but seems to flare up on any given day, week, or season.  Sensitivity to joy, sadness, love, or loss, evokes a deep connection to a feeling that often results in tears.  Usually induced by a movie, I find my emotions, which have migrated to the surface over the years, release more readily and more frequently than before.  And, interestingly, they are more prevalent around stories of extreme joy or love, or transformation than those of sadness or loss.  I don’t know why.

The holidays for me have changed as both Wal and George have described.  My mother, who was the focal point for our gatherings, is no longer with us and my siblings and children have their own families and friends and traditions.  As a result, getting together for the holidays or birthdays is far less frequent.  And, as a single man, sometimes I spend a holiday or birthday alone—except for Duke of course.  At first I felt sorry for myself and drifted into places of sadness and questions of where I went wrong.  But over time, I’ve recognized that spending time alone, holiday or not, does not represent who I am or how my life turned out.  It’s simply a quiet time to rest, or read, or walk, or think, or watch one of those tear-producing movies.  Someone once said to me that it was better to be alone with yourself, than feeling alone with a partner.  I understand that difference and can now appreciate (most of the time) when I spend one of those days by myself without seeking to change it.  Being alone doesn’t have to mean I’m lonely.  However, when I do get to spend time with family and/or friends for a holiday, I truly enjoy the story telling that Wal referred to in his piece.  When my sisters and I would spend time together, my mother seemed to be with us as we told story after story of experiences and events that made us laugh so hard that tears came to our eyes.

What animates us? We live; we experience awareness; we have consciousness of self. Where does the energy come from that acts as our driving force? According to physicist Jeremy England, it’s the entropy, stupid!

Simply unpacked, his theory maintains that atoms subjected to energy (say electromagnetic force) will tend to organize so that they will more efficiently dissipate that energy. This is entropy. Like the ‘arrow of time’ which only proceeds in one direction (according to current physics), entropy only leads to energy dispersion. It is the reason why my coffee will get colder – and not hotter – while it sits on the table as I write this piece. The coffee is dissipating energy to match the temperature in the room: entropy.

Over long periods of time, clusters of atoms develop structures – some complex — for dissipating energy, e.g., photosynthesis. England makes a case that complex structures gradually evolve to absorb and distribute increasing amounts of energy. Under certain conditions, life can develop. England says “You start with a random clump of atoms, and if you shine light on it for long enough, it should not be so surprising that you get a plant.”

Hmmm… why?

Well, apparently there are two reasons: a) increasing self-assembly allows clusters of atoms to absorb and rationalize greater amounts of field energy and b) self-replication is an efficient option for handling copious amounts of energy.

In sum, the resonance of energy in a field leads atoms to congregate in ways that allow more efficient systems for binding and disseminating energy. This process conforms to the law of physics in which an even distribution of energy is the final state. It is much like obtaining equilibrium in a solution – for instance, like stirring cream in your coffee. Rocks do it, trees do it, even the birds and the bees do it. Complex clusters can do it better – and they will over time replicate to form more clusters in order to handle all the field energy.

Wow! I applaud Dr. England. I also applaud all those who search after the ‘Big Why’. However, I’d hate to think we are just a special case of the second law of thermodynamics.  What is missing is any sense of intentionality – at what point does our purpose extend beyond energy dissipation?

Up, Up and a Way Out

Recently a friend asked me what I do to keep my brain sharp.  She has scrabble and crossword puzzles and I have Sudoku and Wally!

For me, it is likely that we are, in fact, evolved from randomly interacting atoms in chance encounters with other “stuff” under varying conditions that occurred in some primordial ooze. I also believe that all living and non-living things are in community with each other and don’t just survive independently, but in concert with all things of this world: interdependence if you will.  How we/they know what to do in order to fit into this whole-earth relationship, I don’t know.

Wally ends his piece with a question regarding the absence of intentionality and the notion that there must be more than physicist England suggests.  Another friend of mine refers to the idea of deliberate intervention as something he calls Source Energy; His name for what some call God, others call Nature, divine intervention, etc.  

Clearly there is no universal agreement as to what the source of our energy is.   Some of us are crystal clear about what is behind our existence and some of us have ideas with many captivating questions.  Perhaps the more important issue for all of us is to accept that the human world has always held differing beliefs to the questions of who we are and where we came from and to proceed with the notion of being the best versions of who we are for our universal community and ourselves.

What I do know is that there is some intangible thing that exists beyond our individual and collective consciousness.  And I know this because often, while walking in nature, I am struck with a overwhelming feeling of joy and gratitude and my usual reaction to shout out, “Thank You!”  And, since it’s usually only Duke and I during these moments, to whom am I offering thanks?

Inertia

This is a tough one for me.  Not sure about all the scientific stuff but I know MY energy is definitely influenced by life circumstance and emotional state of mind.  I know that when I feel purposeful and productive my energy intensifies and I become industrious and excited about getting things done.  My body seems to rise to the occasion and supplies the necessary energy needed to attack the tasks I have to  address.  My mind becomes sharp too and focused.  An object in motion tends to stay in motion!  It’s a great feeling.  I have a purpose and a path. 

When I first retired from teaching I had a difficult time reinventing myself and as a result my body was slow to pick up the new life required of me. Depression slows the process down as well, and saps the energy from my body making me want to go inward into my head and feel sorry for myself.   When I run into emotional roadblocks, which unfortunately still occur at my age, it slows me down. My approach to life’s daily activities seems to lag and my desire to “do” diminishes.  Inertia sets in.  I want to climb into bed and pull the covers over my head.   It becomes hard to break that cycle until I eventually have had enough of myself like that.   I then throw the covers off to try to find the next motivating thought to get me back on track-  not always that easy and as the years pass and the body continues to suffer aging,  that motivation gets harder to activate and the energy can become less and less.  The answer for me seems to be to keep the mind sharp to identify when my energy is being sapped and to use my mind to give a spiritual pep talk to my body to get back in the fight.