An Invincible Summer - A Woman's Journey

 Some people have to brag because they feel bad about themselves. It’s not about you. Feel bad for them . 

Today was the day. I sit here trying to figure out what I feel. Grief, loneliness, sadness....loss. But I sit here just the same. There is something to be said about the cultures that wail. I found this: Grief was expressed in an open and unrestrained way that was cathartic and communally shared, very much in contrast with the modern emphasis on controlling one’s emotions and keeping grief private.  In various cultures the outpouring of emotion was not only required but  performed ceremonially , in the form of ritualized weeping accompanied by wailing and shrieking. For example, traditions of the “death wail,” which allowed people to cry their grief aloud, have been documented among the ancient Celts. They exist today among various indigenous peoples of Africa, South America, Asia and  Australia . Wailing is what my heart wants to do but the stiff upper lip, taught before I was conscious of being taught, prevails. It is said that there is a time for everything. Perhaps it...

The isolation caused by this pandemic can be hard but I consider myself pretty lucky. I've been able to work, we've continued to golf, my youngest is still home and we have our neighbors. Yesterday we started a bookclub. Sitting outside in the wind and chilly temps, spaced safely away from each other, we sat with hats and blankets and discussed the book of choice. The Clearing by Tim Gautreaux is not my taste in books but it lead to a great discussion. Three chapters in, I am already looking forward to next Sunday. As we sat around, agreeing and disagreeing, bringing new light to otherwise overlooked characters, I felt a great sense of community, something I've longed for all my life and struggled to find. Who would have thought that one could find community in a time of world pandemic?  I have long been asking for it and the Universe finally responded, letting me know that time was now and that I am ready to be a contributing part of a group. Emotionally more sober and not...

I am no younger than 5 or 6. I am in a car with my dad and am in the front seat even though that was a very rare occurrence with 5 siblings in the house. He is driving a car with a greyish green metal dashboard. The radio is one that most of us of a certain age would recognize immediately. Music is playing. It is the Guess Who and, for whatever reason, my dad didn’t want to listen to it.  His big fingers reach up to push a yellowish button that I could tell was white before years of sun and dirty hands changed it to its now dingy color. I don’t remember what song or news came up after that. In fact, that is the extent of my memory, brought up just from hearing the song, but sweet just the same. I have precious few early memories of dad and the ones I can bring up easily are mostly scary. I'll keep this one tucked in my heart.

Right now I am thinking of my sweet little dog who has been loyally by my side for these last 10 years. She has seen me at my best and worst and never once judged me (well, once in awhile she made me feel ashamed of myself). She is slowing down a lot, showing signs of discomfort, walking like an old russian babushka with arthritis in every joint. Her back legs are starting to give out and we've notice episodes of confusion settle over her. She has been well treated by the vet, all options taken in consideration. I'm not one to let nature take its course if nature has sunk her claws in. I want to treat her as humanely as I would like to be treated, which means not dragging out months and months of pain in order to not have to deal with my own feelings of grief or loss. I thought today was going to be the day but she's not ready quite yet. She will tell me when she is.

My man is diabetic. Has been for as long as I’ve known him. It’s very hard for me to NOT speak up when he is eating, or not eating, like he’s a diabetic. I am trying to learn to keep it to myself, allowing him to make those choices, good or bad, but a part of me wants to smack him on top his head. And still I struggle with the idea of my partner in life seems to have a little bit of a death wish.  I’m a work in progress  

The past few days have been lovely. 80° (26.6°C) with a cool breeze and hardly a cloud in the sky. While not crowded, the beaches are peppered with sun worshipers and the surfers have been enjoying some massive waves. I’ve been making my early morning pilgrimages to the beach for quiet meditation and some book work. The restaurants are open for business but take out only.  Nice days to golf and so we shall.  No complaints.