Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Monday, July 29, 2013
PLACE VALUE
For the sake of making a point, I am high jacking the term “place
value,” which normally means where the decimal comes in a number, determining the value of any string of
numbers. Instead of that typical
definition, I am using “place value” to refer to the value we place on
ourselves. Which, when I come to think
of it, isn’t all that different from its traditional meaning.
Some people place their inner decimal point to the far
right, experiencing themselves as having a great deal of value. Others might put it close to the middle,
while still others might draw it all the way to the left, seeing themselves as not worth much. Even with the exact same string
of numbers, there would be a huge diversity of value (and my guess is the estimates would often be wildly out of sync with reality).
In dealing with grannie clients & potential clients, it’s
essential that I have a fairly good idea of my own place value. There are people who are flat-out horrified at the
rate I charge, not knowing or caring to know that it is lower than the going rate for traditional care givers, which I most certainly am not.
Strangely, it is typically the ones who you’d think could afford it the easiest who seem to balk at paying anything close to reasonable (because it's not to them).
It took someone taking unthinking advantage of a longstanding
grannie client for me to realize how I wasn't placing value on the unusual services I offer. The person had joined us on several rambles, at our invitation. Because we invited her, it never
occurred to me to request she pay for my time. While some of my friends were askance that she didn’t at least offer to pay me
some small amount, I understood – she enjoyed her time with us without
valuing my time. And that didn't bother me, although it should have.
But then she shorted a grannie client & everything changed in my view. She'd asked to come along on an outing, so I said we'd love took the opportunity to say we’d love to have
her company – but she would be expected to help pay the cost of my meal (on all
previous outings, she’d let my grannie client cover any meals). When the bill came, she put down a $20 bill,
announcing that it paid for her portion of the meal & the tip. Except it was short. Making such a fanfare of saying, “THIS pays
for my part of the bill & the tip,” left me somewhat flummoxed at how to
point out she was over $5 short of the actual amount. Although I let it slide, it steeled
my spine against inviting her on future fun outs & abouts.
Over the two or so months between then & now, she’s
frequently made mention about wanting to join us on our rambles and sips &
nibble stops, always asking ME to call her to let her know what was
happening. Well, I’ve placed enough value on
my time & planning to not fall into that possibly unintentional snare - if she wanted to come, she’d have to make the effort & take the lead. This week, she did, being clear that she
wants to join us on a particular outing.
It’s interesting what happens when I’ve laid out in my mind a particular
course of action I would take if a particular situation arose. Following up on it is relatively easy,
because in some ways I’ve gone through the different scenarios in my mind countless unconscious times. Doing the right thing becomes easier because
it’s become so familiar.
The upshot is that I wrote her a
note letting her know my weekly out & about schedule with the particular
grannie client, then let her know that – in the interest of fairness – she’d
have to be on the same footing as my g.c. IF she wanted to come.
Could I have written such a note even a year ago? I doubt it.
Maybe all the times I’ve advised my various grannie clients to realize
the value they each bring to those around them sunk into my own noggin,
allowing me to see how often I underappreciated the time & unusual skill
set I bring to my non-traditional senior care.
It’s taken me years to appreciate that through both nature &
nurture, I’ve developed a unique (some might say peculiar) skill set for helping
“olders” make the most of what they have, where they are. Because of my experience with Mom & Mom
Murphy, both of whom had full & rich lives right up to their passing, the
vision I bring to elder care is one of wholeness & vitality. That is a blessing.
If I had my druthers, I’d be fully underwritten & NO ONE
would have to pay a penny. Anyone who
wanted to make use of my time & trusty “chariot” could enjoy getting out
into the wilds of the local highways & byways, could savor indulging in a
luscious sundae at oWOWcow, a meander capped off by lunch at Farmhouse Tavern, or a
glorious evening of good companionship & great singing at Centre Bridge Inn.
And that might happen some day.
In the meantime, I will continue to position my “place value” in a
realistic place & ask that others do the same.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
OH-SO-SPECIAL BEST PRACTICES
I woke up this a.m. - at 5:10 - thinking about various older friends & their families, people I consider examples of "best practices" in what Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi refers to as sage-ing, not age-ing.
Am still rather awed by the indisputable fact that our cats, who are always quite raucous & downright pushy in letting me know it is time for their breakfast, completely held back any clamor for me to get up & get feeding them. They were there, with me, but to a cat they were silent. As if they understood that what I was processing was important, worthy of their wait. It might sound silly, even absurd, but that was what happened & it has no other explanation.
Many an older friend came to my mind's eye, each a shining example of someone who continued to be connected to their family, friends & communities throughout their lives, who might have ultimately experienced limited abilities but who always seemed to make the most of what they could manage.
Strangely enough, the people I thought most about were not Cornelia Stroh or Sylvia Cooper or Dave Z's parents - the people I would have expected to be uppermost in my mind. Instead, it was a local family & their mother, people I barely know.
The unusual quality of their parents' - indeed, the family's collective - saging came into my awareness when their universally beloved father died. As the family gathered at their parents' home, a caterer was hired to provide all their meals AND keep the fridge filled with sips & nibbles, freeing the kids & their mom to fully enjoy the time together, to make it a celebration of a dad & husband, to always be ready to roll out the welcome mat to friends & even more family stopping by.
When I heard that story, many years back, it made me pause & think, "Now, that's a family that understands what life is all about!" While it's true they had the financial wherewithal to make it happen, my guess is they would have figured out something similar even if they had been just scrapping by.
The more recent story I heard told about the same family involved their long-standing family tradition of gathering at their mother's for supper & game night, a tradition they are reported to still continue, even though their mom has been unaware for some time of their presence. She might not be able to acknowledge, maybe not even fully sense, that her loved ones are around her, yet there they be, still having fun as a family, week after precious week.
Am still rather awed by the indisputable fact that our cats, who are always quite raucous & downright pushy in letting me know it is time for their breakfast, completely held back any clamor for me to get up & get feeding them. They were there, with me, but to a cat they were silent. As if they understood that what I was processing was important, worthy of their wait. It might sound silly, even absurd, but that was what happened & it has no other explanation.
Many an older friend came to my mind's eye, each a shining example of someone who continued to be connected to their family, friends & communities throughout their lives, who might have ultimately experienced limited abilities but who always seemed to make the most of what they could manage.
Strangely enough, the people I thought most about were not Cornelia Stroh or Sylvia Cooper or Dave Z's parents - the people I would have expected to be uppermost in my mind. Instead, it was a local family & their mother, people I barely know.
The unusual quality of their parents' - indeed, the family's collective - saging came into my awareness when their universally beloved father died. As the family gathered at their parents' home, a caterer was hired to provide all their meals AND keep the fridge filled with sips & nibbles, freeing the kids & their mom to fully enjoy the time together, to make it a celebration of a dad & husband, to always be ready to roll out the welcome mat to friends & even more family stopping by.
When I heard that story, many years back, it made me pause & think, "Now, that's a family that understands what life is all about!" While it's true they had the financial wherewithal to make it happen, my guess is they would have figured out something similar even if they had been just scrapping by.
The more recent story I heard told about the same family involved their long-standing family tradition of gathering at their mother's for supper & game night, a tradition they are reported to still continue, even though their mom has been unaware for some time of their presence. She might not be able to acknowledge, maybe not even fully sense, that her loved ones are around her, yet there they be, still having fun as a family, week after precious week.
THOSE are oh-so-special best practices!
Saturday, July 27, 2013
CROWDFUND
How very 2013 of me! I am putting together
a "crowdfunding" request!
What is "crowdfunding"? People put together proposals targeting a money goal they want to reach, with the help of loved ones, friends, acquaintances & total strangers. For me, the beauty isn't asking countless (literally) others to contribute to a goal dear to my heart. For me, it is an opportunity to tell the Universe, "Hey, Universe! THIS is what I want to be doing with the rest of my life." If others think it's worthwhile, worth chipping in some of their own money, well that is terrific & will help me do what I utterly believe is my spirit-guided rest-of-life work. But that is secondary to being able - in writing, as publicly as it gets - my 2nd greatest heart's desire.
So, what IS this crowdfunding request of mine? Well, I've only just started seriously setting it down from my head & heart onto paper. This is my first stab, and even it is only just sort of a build-up, a "why this is important to me" and "what I want to be able to accomplish." Yes, it is long & wordy, but that is so me. Will work on whittling it down to the basics of what's in my heart, what guides my here & now footsteps.
Here goes, a VERY rough draft of jotted down thoughts ...
FACT: I stink at in-home senior
care. My strength is in get-‘em-outta-home care, creating moments of joy
within an increasingly too-rare social context.
FACT: My mother's super-tight budget couldn't have squeezed in my services for even one of the outs & abouts we went on every day.
FACT: Most “senior residences” suffer from a
Catch-22 - - to serve the maximum number of residents, especially those with
memory challenges, administration & staff focus on managing rather than individualizing care.
FACT: Too often, older people still relatively sound of mind & body (albeit less mobile) fall through the cracks of attention until they're labeled with a health issue. At the same time, olders dealing with serious mental challenges rarely receive the high level of activity & engagement with life that studies indicate helps reduce/alleviate the effects of dementia, including Alzheimer's.
FACT: Too often, older people still relatively sound of mind & body (albeit less mobile) fall through the cracks of attention until they're labeled with a health issue. At the same time, olders dealing with serious mental challenges rarely receive the high level of activity & engagement with life that studies indicate helps reduce/alleviate the effects of dementia, including Alzheimer's.
FACT: I am called to become as
knowledgeable as possible a resource for what I call “healthy anarchy” –
getting olders out of largely institutional
(however lovely) settings into nature, experiencing seasons & special moments, having FUN.
These are the 5 core reasons I feel called to promote a basic "healthy anarchy" in helping olders, including those with mental challenges, to be elders rather than just older. They are just the tip of the "eldering" issues that keep me awake at night.
WHAT do I feel called to become, to do?
For a start, I want to...
- Translate what I accomplished
for my mother & other grannie clients into tools anyone can use to
socially engage older relatives & friends, without costing a small (or
large) fortune.
- Share ways family &
friends can determine what activities/places in their area are senior
friendly.
- Lead workshops in ways family
& friends - especially younger family members - can become effective
legacy coaches.
- Become a knowledgeable, respected advocate for “aging in place” – volunteers helping seniors stay in
their longtime homes.
- Create a ripple effect - from local communities to increasingly larger ones - of neighbors effectively engaging with seniors,
whether they live in residences or in longtime home.
- Gather together a circle of
“holistic” senior care providers – from yoga to internet instruction &
support - whose greatest strength is a heart-commitment to helping
elders live as full, rich & varied a life as possible.
- Trumpet the importance of
facing “end of life” issues long before retirement age, including how to
live every day with the end in mind.
HOW would that look? I'll give that a ponder next.
MOO, DUDE
How many people, heading out to lunch, get to see six (6) heifers? And heifers they've seen grow from practically newborn to acting like teens?
Wonderful ramble yesterday - first non-sweltering Saturday in weeks - up to Farmhouse Tavern in Doylestown. Took lots of back roads, but none better than the one which took us through an all-too-few-left farm with sheep & horses & cattle.
It's our regular weekly run up to lunch in Doylestown. Pebble Hill/Wilkshire Road (one road, two names) never fails to delight. Over the years, we've watched a perfect Nantucket-style cottage expand into a more sensible but not quite so perfect house, applauded the sublime design of a fairly large garage/shed that looks like it's been part of another homestead for generations, worried about/then gave a high five to a new home built on a far-back meadow. And seen wild male turkeys looking for all the world like they were hitting on obviously unimpressed females!
This past spring was especially delightful, seeing a days-old colt with mama in the paddock that edges the road, having several enchanting exchanges with lambkins who seemed to thoroughly enjoy "Baaaaaaing!" with the best of them. We watched very young but not-so-little heifers sticking close to mom.
Such a kick yesterday to see those same heifers hanging out together in what we guessed is their equivalent of the mall - a lush green pasture; their adolescent attitude was impossible to miss, wanting to be on their own yet still tied to Mom. My grannie client pointed out that the dozen or so white geese on the banks of the farm pond mirrored the white clouds in the blue blue sky. And I had to keep my wits about me, driving past the entrance, as the hens & rooster seem to believe they always have the right of way. One disappointment was not spotting so much as one horse; it's been over a month since we've seen any of the 20 or so horses that normally roam the upper & lower pastures - are they at equine camp?
What happiness to savor the joy my grannie client felt in all of it, to sense so vividly how engaged she was with everything literally around her Does her a world of good to drive through the Pennypack Watershed, along small tree-shaded roads, to experience the changes we see at "our" farm through the seasons. Got me thinking about how too few olders get such opportunities for outs & abouts.
Perhaps that's because far too few people seem to realize how important it is for humans of all ages to experience the change of seasons, the change of day. Personally, I never gave much thought to the emotional & physical health benefits of taking care of our property, or hanging the wash out on the line, running on errands or just driving to & from work. All of which took me outdoors, out into what passes for nature.
FACT: Far too many senior "lifestyle"residences boast about all the activities they provide their residents, but neglect to get them out on nature walks or just sitting in a park.
FACT: People requiring "personal care" services (typically, ones with memory challenges) are, as a rule, excluded from outings, in spite of studies showing that people living with forms of dementia should be kept very active, should experience nature, particularly the change of seasons & time. If limiting access to such experiences is considered good "care management," maybe what I am all about is considered anarchy. If so, it seems to me to be a healthy anarchy.
Because Mom lived with us & Mom Murphy lived a basically independent life in her longtime Philadelphia neighborhood home, neither probably ever gave much thought to the fact that they saw the sun come up & turn noonish & head down & night fall. It was their norm. And both were sharp as tacks, right to the last. My guess is that both of them would have lanquished in a "lifestyle" residence. Can't imagine Mom M. without her beautiful rose bushes, or Mom not watching the "rosy-fingered dawn" rising out the front door, the westering sun setting out the kitchen window.
It gladdens my heart that my grannie clients can see a bare field one week, corn beginning to sprout the next, watch it grow higher & higher, see tassles where none were the week before. I wish I could fill my car & a dozen more with older ladies & gents, all checking out the adolescent heifers hangin' with their own but not too far from Mom. If only....
DIRECTIONS:
From York Road/Rt. 263 - turn west onto Sugarbottom Road, stay on road past the school, to where the road dips down & eases to the left; where it starts to take a SHARP turn right, come to a complete stop, checking both to your left (Pebble Hill Road) & right along Sugarbottom - it's a tricky turn, but worth it; turn onto Pebble Hill Road - takes a sharp right, past Kinder Works; the farm is about a 1/2 mile down Pebble Hill, which becomes Wilkshire Road & Ts at Edison-Furlong Road (Rt 611 is about a minute to your left, York Road is about 5 mins to your right).
From Easton Road/Rt 611 - at the traffic light before the Rt. 611 bypass (south of D-town), turn onto Edison-Furlong Road; stay on the road for about a minute, turning right at Wilkshire Road (I believe it's the second road on your right); where the road takes a hard left turn, it becomes Pebble Hill, which ultimately ends at Sugarbottom Road - turn left to take you back to Edison-Furlong or right to take you to York Road.
Wonderful ramble yesterday - first non-sweltering Saturday in weeks - up to Farmhouse Tavern in Doylestown. Took lots of back roads, but none better than the one which took us through an all-too-few-left farm with sheep & horses & cattle.
It's our regular weekly run up to lunch in Doylestown. Pebble Hill/Wilkshire Road (one road, two names) never fails to delight. Over the years, we've watched a perfect Nantucket-style cottage expand into a more sensible but not quite so perfect house, applauded the sublime design of a fairly large garage/shed that looks like it's been part of another homestead for generations, worried about/then gave a high five to a new home built on a far-back meadow. And seen wild male turkeys looking for all the world like they were hitting on obviously unimpressed females!
This past spring was especially delightful, seeing a days-old colt with mama in the paddock that edges the road, having several enchanting exchanges with lambkins who seemed to thoroughly enjoy "Baaaaaaing!" with the best of them. We watched very young but not-so-little heifers sticking close to mom.
Such a kick yesterday to see those same heifers hanging out together in what we guessed is their equivalent of the mall - a lush green pasture; their adolescent attitude was impossible to miss, wanting to be on their own yet still tied to Mom. My grannie client pointed out that the dozen or so white geese on the banks of the farm pond mirrored the white clouds in the blue blue sky. And I had to keep my wits about me, driving past the entrance, as the hens & rooster seem to believe they always have the right of way. One disappointment was not spotting so much as one horse; it's been over a month since we've seen any of the 20 or so horses that normally roam the upper & lower pastures - are they at equine camp?
What happiness to savor the joy my grannie client felt in all of it, to sense so vividly how engaged she was with everything literally around her Does her a world of good to drive through the Pennypack Watershed, along small tree-shaded roads, to experience the changes we see at "our" farm through the seasons. Got me thinking about how too few olders get such opportunities for outs & abouts.
Perhaps that's because far too few people seem to realize how important it is for humans of all ages to experience the change of seasons, the change of day. Personally, I never gave much thought to the emotional & physical health benefits of taking care of our property, or hanging the wash out on the line, running on errands or just driving to & from work. All of which took me outdoors, out into what passes for nature.
FACT: Far too many senior "lifestyle"residences boast about all the activities they provide their residents, but neglect to get them out on nature walks or just sitting in a park.
FACT: People requiring "personal care" services (typically, ones with memory challenges) are, as a rule, excluded from outings, in spite of studies showing that people living with forms of dementia should be kept very active, should experience nature, particularly the change of seasons & time. If limiting access to such experiences is considered good "care management," maybe what I am all about is considered anarchy. If so, it seems to me to be a healthy anarchy.
Because Mom lived with us & Mom Murphy lived a basically independent life in her longtime Philadelphia neighborhood home, neither probably ever gave much thought to the fact that they saw the sun come up & turn noonish & head down & night fall. It was their norm. And both were sharp as tacks, right to the last. My guess is that both of them would have lanquished in a "lifestyle" residence. Can't imagine Mom M. without her beautiful rose bushes, or Mom not watching the "rosy-fingered dawn" rising out the front door, the westering sun setting out the kitchen window.
It gladdens my heart that my grannie clients can see a bare field one week, corn beginning to sprout the next, watch it grow higher & higher, see tassles where none were the week before. I wish I could fill my car & a dozen more with older ladies & gents, all checking out the adolescent heifers hangin' with their own but not too far from Mom. If only....
DIRECTIONS:
From York Road/Rt. 263 - turn west onto Sugarbottom Road, stay on road past the school, to where the road dips down & eases to the left; where it starts to take a SHARP turn right, come to a complete stop, checking both to your left (Pebble Hill Road) & right along Sugarbottom - it's a tricky turn, but worth it; turn onto Pebble Hill Road - takes a sharp right, past Kinder Works; the farm is about a 1/2 mile down Pebble Hill, which becomes Wilkshire Road & Ts at Edison-Furlong Road (Rt 611 is about a minute to your left, York Road is about 5 mins to your right).
From Easton Road/Rt 611 - at the traffic light before the Rt. 611 bypass (south of D-town), turn onto Edison-Furlong Road; stay on the road for about a minute, turning right at Wilkshire Road (I believe it's the second road on your right); where the road takes a hard left turn, it becomes Pebble Hill, which ultimately ends at Sugarbottom Road - turn left to take you back to Edison-Furlong or right to take you to York Road.
Blessings on the folks who own the wonderful farm
cradled in the crook of Wilkshire/Pebble Hill Road.
Its farm animals, meadows & corn fields provide
delight & a constant source of engagement!
Friday, July 26, 2013
TRIPS, TREKS, and OUT & ABOUTS
How dense can I be?
Until fairly late last
night, it never occurred to me to share the trips, treks, and out &
abouts Mom & I routinely took back in the day, which I now take with
grannie clients. Thank you, Jane Blair, for asking your FB friends for
suggestions on where to ramble with only 90 minutes, an inspiring question! (Although
I was none too happy this a.m., waking up in the pre-dawn, unable to go back
to sleep because I was running through beloved routes & destinations in my
mind.)
What did I suggest as a
possible pretty, shortish ramble for Jane & her awesome m-i-l?
A nip up Rt. 232 (which starts out as Huntingdon Pike in Jane's
starting point, becomes 2nd Street Pike in Southampton, ends up Windy Bush Road
when it Ts at its terminus at the Delaware River) to New Hope, crossing over
the river to NJ at Lambertville, then taking Rt 29 up to Stockton, crossing
back into PA, then heading home via Peddler's Village.
If Jane had a couple
hours, my suggestion would be to take the Newtown Bypass to Yardley Newtown
Road & Afton Ave, joining the River
Road Delaware
Mind you, Mom would have wanted to turn
right for breakfast at Charcoal (back in the day, the owners still called it Charcoal Steaks &
Things - hadn't gone WOW! yet in its decor & evening menu) or nipped into the
Yardley Inn for a sip & a nibble at the bar or out on the "porch"
with its beautiful view of both the river & the restaurant's lovely herb
garden.
I agree with
Mom's opinion that the stretch of road between Yardley & New Hope is
the most delightful stretch, hugging close to the river & providing great
views of water, interesting houses (check out the stretch of houses north of the inn that are built atop stilts or risers to keep them out of danger of the flood waters
that now plague the charming town, due to thoughtless upriver development), and sights
like Washington's
Crossing State Park, the David Library of the American Revolution, and Bowman's
Hill & Wildflower
Preserve.
As you head up toward
New Hope from Yardley, look for another beautiful view of the river bending ever
so slightly to the right - at that very point, John's most remarkable (on so
many levels!) railroad art clients built a stunning house with classic modern
lines; it's outstanding for how well it suits the land while providing John's client & his lucky guests with knock-out views of the Delaware.
Until Jane asked all of
her Facebook friends for suggestions on local rambles, it never occurred to me
to write out all the ones I know, some as close as a meander skirting the edge of
the Pennypack Watershed or exploring the mostly residential roads between Susquehanna & Terwood, others as far distant as Manhattan, Carlisle & Horseshoe
Curve or SE
PA/NE DE's Wyeth Country, and way beyond.
Jane - may you have a
great & glorious ramble!
Here's to many more!!
Thursday, July 25, 2013
NO EQUIVOCATING WITH EQUANIMITY
It is wondrous that my 91-year old mother embodied friendship, compassion & joy in other's good fortune. And not surprising Mom never mastered the 4th of Buddhism's "four immeasurables - equanimity. How many of us ever truly do?
Personally, I'm light years away from mastering any of the four, but equanimity? Of all of them, that is my bete noire - my black beast. Oh, there are times I think that my life, my attitudes are becoming more balanced, temperate. And then some minor thing happens & my reptilian brain takes over & I get engaged in utterly intemperate emotions.
Emotions - what pesky things they are, how strongly they tie connect bind us to negative imbalance in our lives. Make that "invest" us in dunderheaded attitudes & righteous poses.
How splendid it feels on those occasions when I do succeed in detaching myself from all the fierce hoo ha that lies in wait, ready to spring out at the first perceived slight or offense.
What I've discovered over the past year is the importance of celebrating - slapping myself on the back, so to speak - when I actually DO manage to approach a potentially arrggghhh situation with calmness, with composure, letting my prefrontal cortex step ahead of my "let's just freak out" amygdala, to take the lead. Recognizing when that is happening, noticing how I am physically as well as emotionally feeling when I respond in a level-headed fashion to something that typically sends me spiraling, letting my brain soak in awareness of "THIS feels good," makes it easier to duplicate later.
There is no equivocating with the massive challenges of achieving long-term equanimity in the face of all the gauntlets thrown down by life. But once faced AS a challenge, this throw down between my reptilian amygdala (aka AMY in our house) and the more sophisticated prefrontal cortex (aka CORY) becomes sort of fun.
Will I achieve equanimity within this lifetime? We shall see. In the meantime, I'll enjoy the process & my progress!
Personally, I'm light years away from mastering any of the four, but equanimity? Of all of them, that is my bete noire - my black beast. Oh, there are times I think that my life, my attitudes are becoming more balanced, temperate. And then some minor thing happens & my reptilian brain takes over & I get engaged in utterly intemperate emotions.
Emotions - what pesky things they are, how strongly they tie connect bind us to negative imbalance in our lives. Make that "invest" us in dunderheaded attitudes & righteous poses.
How splendid it feels on those occasions when I do succeed in detaching myself from all the fierce hoo ha that lies in wait, ready to spring out at the first perceived slight or offense.
What I've discovered over the past year is the importance of celebrating - slapping myself on the back, so to speak - when I actually DO manage to approach a potentially arrggghhh situation with calmness, with composure, letting my prefrontal cortex step ahead of my "let's just freak out" amygdala, to take the lead. Recognizing when that is happening, noticing how I am physically as well as emotionally feeling when I respond in a level-headed fashion to something that typically sends me spiraling, letting my brain soak in awareness of "THIS feels good," makes it easier to duplicate later.
There is no equivocating with the massive challenges of achieving long-term equanimity in the face of all the gauntlets thrown down by life. But once faced AS a challenge, this throw down between my reptilian amygdala (aka AMY in our house) and the more sophisticated prefrontal cortex (aka CORY) becomes sort of fun.
Will I achieve equanimity within this lifetime? We shall see. In the meantime, I'll enjoy the process & my progress!
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
BRAHMA-VIHARAS
I
doubt it's news to most of my friends that I consider Mom was a Zen master, just as
I’m fairly sure they know how much that drove me up a wall. So, why bring
it up AGAIN?
Well,
while I suspected ~ alas, post-mortem ~ it was so, it was only yesterday that I
was able to flip suspicions to certainty.
Although
I'd read about the four brahma-viharas (aka the “four sublime abodes" or "four immeasurables")
before, it took until a day ago for the realization to finally dawn that Mom personified embodied
manifested three of the four.
Karuna - compassion. I recall Mom going to the house of
friends' who had lost a child in a tragic accident. Non-family members - lots
of them - were hanging around the fringes of the front lawn, hesitating to go
in. "What if the family is overwhelmed & doesn't want guests?"
they asked among themselves. Squaring her shoulders, Mom walked up the
front path & knocked on the door. The child's mother opened it wide, took one look at Mom, and practically collapsed in her arms, imploring, "Where is everyone?" Later, Mom said, "I
would rather risk being where I am not needed, that hold back & find out later that I was." That is compassion, that is true empathy. Her
heart truly trembled in response to others' suffering, and Mom did what she
could to alleviate it as best she could. This little pitcher had big ears - as a child, I heard her counsel friends with all ranges of problems, from difficulties in their marriages to pregnant unmarried daughters to sons considering lighting out for Canada rather than be drafted. In every situation, Mom showed tenderness with the friends AND empathy for the other - a rare, a very rare display of karuna.
Mudita - sympathetic
joy. There might be
people whose penchant for feeling pleasure in the happiness & good fortune
of others equaled Mom's, but I seriously doubt anyone exceeded it. She
layered the delight she felt in others' happiness! I remember when Ceri
Holm & Eric Stine married - Mom had to miss the wedding, but shared with me
her joy in their happiness AND her memories of the wedding of Ceri's parents, how shy Elaine kept her eyes down the whole way back down the aisle
after they were married & how David beamed for both of them. Mom didn't
know the meaning of the words competitive or jealous,
and could not have faked indifference if her life depended on it. Mom
embodied mudita.
Upekkha - equanimity. Alas, upekkha was one "immeasurable" Mom failed
to master. Sadly, she was utterly unable to remain neutral, let alone
balanced, in the face of difficult people. Whether due to devastating
challenges she had to face since her late teens or due to her character or for
reasons she could never understand, let alone anyone else, Mom could not
embrace the precious quality of detachment that is a key part of equanimity.
She didn't simply attach herself to persons & situations, she
interwined herself with them so tightly it would have been painful to separate
herself out. If Mom wasn’t able to accept something, she simply
reconfigured things so that she could, whether that meant ignoring what was
said, interpreting it in an acceptable way, or simply leaving a room. I,
for one, believe that if Mom had learned about upekkha from someone she trusted
& admired - someone like her psychologist, Kevyn Malloy - she would have
embraced its importance & challenged herself to nail that one, too! But even without it, three out of four is pretty darn amazing!
Namaste, Mom, from a
devoted & too-late enlightened daughter.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
There Is A Lot I Don't Understand....
...about my mother, but this one thing I know for absolute sure - she was a zen master. And that having a zen master as a parent - perhaps especially as a mother - is not easy.
Okay, so those are two things I know for absolute sure. And I didn't even begin to grasp either one until a couple years after Mom was reunited with her O! Best Beloved.
It seemed that Mom held onto no memory of what I considered numerous raw hands she'd been dealt over the years. Even worse than that (in my eyes), she seemed to harbor no expectation of others might treat her in the here & now or in the future.
That drove me nuts.
"You NEVER learn that they are (fill in the blank) you every time! EVERY TIME it's like the other times never happened." I would say this or a similar statement dozens of times over my adult lifetime without once realizing the truth of my words.
It was only after her death that it dawned on me that one - of many - reasons people were so drawn to Mom was due to the draw of an unseen, yet felt, force field around her. Any one, no matter how badly they'd treated her in the past, stepped into that sphere free of any previous blemish. Mom accepted each as he or she was, in THAT moment. And once they left, they left without her attaching any expectation to them. In 2013, that leaves me in awe. In 2001, it drove me around the bend.
Maybe there is a reason Zen masters tend to be celibate. It feels to me like they made lousy parents, doling out koans instead of drumming life lessons into their children's heads. And batting away in modest yet firm fashion a hoped-for sense of righteous indignation for the perceived woes heaped upon a child. Arrrggghhhh!
On one occasion, Mom went off to spend a weekend with one of my siblings, having promised she'd discuss with said sib a problem plaguing me at the time. Did she? In spite of all her promises - No! So, did she willfully misrepresent her intentions? Did she flip-flop, telling me she would, but then falling in with my sib's equally strong desire to leave it alone? No!
Mom WOULD have been willing to discuss the problem (which I had not, in spite of many efforts, been able to get said sib to address) if it had come up, but said sib never mentioned it. For years, I thought her telling me she would discuss it, then didn't, was a major betrayal. She'd promised, then left me hanging in the wind!! Took time & a spike of wisdom to realize that all she'd promised was she'd be willing to discuss it - she'd never agreed to bring it up.
My gosh, it was not easy to give up the pile of harbored associated with that time, but there's no turning away from such an AH HA! moment of recognition. Being very unZen-like myself, it took a while to get to the point where I ceased denying what was so obviously true. Doing so felt liberating. And I didn't feel a smidgen of regret because of being so beastly critical of Mom for letting me down. I
just saw it as a lesson.
What a hoot Mom would have over the thought of herself as Zen master. I don't even know if she had the slightest idea of Buddhist principles. As far as I know, what she knew about a Buddhist-like faith was gleaned from watching Ronald Colman in Lost Horizon. And maybe that was enough. Or maybe she had greater experience with such concepts than I ever knew. Or maybe she was just the rare pure soul who knew without learning.
There is a lot I still don't understand, but this one thing I know for sure - my Mom was a Zen master.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
YES, THIS SOUNDS ARROGANT
And yet is it true. I have an unflagging belief in wholeness.
Mind you, this was not all that clear to me, at least not until Be Well Bakery/Cafe's exhibit this past summer of my photos of Bryn Athyn Bounty 2012. Time & again, the most unexpected people would approach me, clearly moved, sharing some form of the comment, "I was touched by the sense of community."
Looking around at the photos, I could see what others saw - there were lots of kids with cupcakes, which was ostensibly the reason for taking the photos in the first place; like a squirrel laying up nuts against the winter, I was laying in a supply of snapshots to get me through the 6.5 months I'd have to live through without my weekly kid fix at Bryn Athyn Bounty.
What I shot, what called out to me, turned out to be far more. It was Amy wheeling Miss Morna around the byways, Charis Cole with her ever faithful West Highland Terriers, LOTS of dogs, children clutching vegetables, adults with bouquets of flowers, friends greeting friends, and so many wonderful musicians.
Mind you, I've appreciated for a while that I come at eldering support through an ideal path, one I did not control ~ both my Mom & M-I-L modeled wholesome old ages. In the eight years I knew her, Mom Murphy wasn't sick a day in her life, excluding the massive heart attack that took her from us. My own Mom had her health & emotional issues, but in some ways she was healthier - more whole - in the final few years of her life than she had been since Dad's death over 25 years earlier.
I come to elder support with an image in my mind of wholeness, even if only striving for wholeness, rather than of lack or even despair, as so many others experience.
Tonight, a new light switched on. John Silvanus Wilson, Jr, president of Morehouse College, was on Fresh Air, talking about a profound moment he shared as a youth with Nelson Mandela, whose 95th birthday is today. He mentioned that the great man's defining gift was his innate ability to seek & see wholeness.
How that description seized my heart & imagination! It may very well sound arrogant, but that is my own great gift - the attraction to & ability to see wholeness. At Be Well is evidence that I sought & saw & captured the sense of community, of wholeness, that happens every Saturday at Bryn Athyn Bounty.
How bitterly ironic that I was born into a family where the principle members embraced disconnection, distrusted wholeness. How deeply grateful I am that some small part of me always realized that desperate attitude, although it affected me, did not define me. That while it seemed like I was experienced as a jarring aberration within my birth family - a sister-in-law labeled me the most psychotic personality she knew (true, within the context of my family) - my natural inclinations toward caring communication, service, and being my genuine self remained important to me, if only on some almost self-dismissed level.
I stand for wholeness, recognizing that it is different for each person, recognizing that I can help nurture it but can never make it so. True wholeness is a wild thing, unable to be contained or controlled within some laboratory norm.
Yes, it might sound arrogant to lay claim to seeing wholeness where so many see deficiencies, but I say it with a searing - and seering - sense of celebration!
Mind you, this was not all that clear to me, at least not until Be Well Bakery/Cafe's exhibit this past summer of my photos of Bryn Athyn Bounty 2012. Time & again, the most unexpected people would approach me, clearly moved, sharing some form of the comment, "I was touched by the sense of community."
Looking around at the photos, I could see what others saw - there were lots of kids with cupcakes, which was ostensibly the reason for taking the photos in the first place; like a squirrel laying up nuts against the winter, I was laying in a supply of snapshots to get me through the 6.5 months I'd have to live through without my weekly kid fix at Bryn Athyn Bounty.
What I shot, what called out to me, turned out to be far more. It was Amy wheeling Miss Morna around the byways, Charis Cole with her ever faithful West Highland Terriers, LOTS of dogs, children clutching vegetables, adults with bouquets of flowers, friends greeting friends, and so many wonderful musicians.
I saw a community. I saw a whole, not just separate parts.
Mind you, I've appreciated for a while that I come at eldering support through an ideal path, one I did not control ~ both my Mom & M-I-L modeled wholesome old ages. In the eight years I knew her, Mom Murphy wasn't sick a day in her life, excluding the massive heart attack that took her from us. My own Mom had her health & emotional issues, but in some ways she was healthier - more whole - in the final few years of her life than she had been since Dad's death over 25 years earlier.
I come to elder support with an image in my mind of wholeness, even if only striving for wholeness, rather than of lack or even despair, as so many others experience.
Tonight, a new light switched on. John Silvanus Wilson, Jr, president of Morehouse College, was on Fresh Air, talking about a profound moment he shared as a youth with Nelson Mandela, whose 95th birthday is today. He mentioned that the great man's defining gift was his innate ability to seek & see wholeness.
How that description seized my heart & imagination! It may very well sound arrogant, but that is my own great gift - the attraction to & ability to see wholeness. At Be Well is evidence that I sought & saw & captured the sense of community, of wholeness, that happens every Saturday at Bryn Athyn Bounty.
How bitterly ironic that I was born into a family where the principle members embraced disconnection, distrusted wholeness. How deeply grateful I am that some small part of me always realized that desperate attitude, although it affected me, did not define me. That while it seemed like I was experienced as a jarring aberration within my birth family - a sister-in-law labeled me the most psychotic personality she knew (true, within the context of my family) - my natural inclinations toward caring communication, service, and being my genuine self remained important to me, if only on some almost self-dismissed level.
I stand for wholeness, recognizing that it is different for each person, recognizing that I can help nurture it but can never make it so. True wholeness is a wild thing, unable to be contained or controlled within some laboratory norm.
Yes, it might sound arrogant to lay claim to seeing wholeness where so many see deficiencies, but I say it with a searing - and seering - sense of celebration!
PATRICIA GALLAGHER
If ever there was someone BORN to be part of a circle of eldering support, it is the awesome Patricia Mohan Gallagher. Some Great Hand touched her heart & spirit, drawing her into inspired care & support of elderly patients who all too often fall through the cracks, go unnoticed. She is EPIC! How she does what she does, year after year, self-financed for the most part, is beyond me, working so many times with olders whose stories & lives would break my heart, but only seem to break her's more & more open.
Go to her website, read the stories, and give thanks that such a woman exists on this sometimes somewhat sorry planet of ours, because she touches it with light & love.
Go to her website, read the stories, and give thanks that such a woman exists on this sometimes somewhat sorry planet of ours, because she touches it with light & love.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
A COMMUNITY, IF YOU WILL
Leave the doors wide open & wonders will arrive!
As I mentioned in my premier posting, I sailed into this best & brightest of all my life's endeavors with absolutely no set-in-stone concept of what it will look like, how it will work. Today, I have a bit more idea of how it might work, what it might look like.
This morning, I had the delight of meeting Dana Greene, a licensed massage therapist & friend of the epic Susan A. Dana got some wheels clicking in my noggin. It seems to me that one area of "senior" care that has been sort of neglected is a strong network of support services for people who are older AND relatively sound. I'm not saying this is a virgin niche, but it certainly is under-served.
What I'd like to develop is a consortium - a community, if you will - of people who can help olders tap into and draw out their inner elder. Those services - support care, I'd rather call it - would include licensed massage therapists like Dana & my dear friend, Dawn Kintner, ed counselors (think "BACNC" & "PSU/Abington"), art instructors, exercise specialists, yoga practioners, meditation leaders, legacy coaches & gad-abouts (like myself), social network masters, spiritual guides, nutritionists, music therapists, emotional support, life coaches, stay-in-place services, activity directors, late-life career counseling - - and more possibilities than I can think of right now.
The one thing we will have in common will be an inspired drive to support our friends in drawing as out their inner engaged, energized, empowered elder. EVERYONE has one! For some, this might require a minimum of support; others may need a lot. Which leads me to a most important point...
There is no one way to drawing out & welcoming an inner elder. That is the challenge & the beauty of eldering. Shake off any idea of success or failure; instead, embrace the concept of more.
How will this all happen? I can tell you for absolute sure - it already is! The energies are pinging like crazy, just needing to be drawn out of the ether & into reality.
That might sound all new agey & "out there," but it's the best way I can explain what I've experienced happening, slowly slowly since 10/01, speeded up since 07/12. It's what I have dedicated myself to identifying, to giving form & substance. My vision is that by creating a consortium - a community, if you will - of inspired providers, a community of older friends dear to my heart will be served, with the ripples of inspired care reaching out further & further to who knows where?! (Not too ambitious, am I!!)
As I mentioned in my premier posting, I sailed into this best & brightest of all my life's endeavors with absolutely no set-in-stone concept of what it will look like, how it will work. Today, I have a bit more idea of how it might work, what it might look like.
This morning, I had the delight of meeting Dana Greene, a licensed massage therapist & friend of the epic Susan A. Dana got some wheels clicking in my noggin. It seems to me that one area of "senior" care that has been sort of neglected is a strong network of support services for people who are older AND relatively sound. I'm not saying this is a virgin niche, but it certainly is under-served.
What I'd like to develop is a consortium - a community, if you will - of people who can help olders tap into and draw out their inner elder. Those services - support care, I'd rather call it - would include licensed massage therapists like Dana & my dear friend, Dawn Kintner, ed counselors (think "BACNC" & "PSU/Abington"), art instructors, exercise specialists, yoga practioners, meditation leaders, legacy coaches & gad-abouts (like myself), social network masters, spiritual guides, nutritionists, music therapists, emotional support, life coaches, stay-in-place services, activity directors, late-life career counseling - - and more possibilities than I can think of right now.
The one thing we will have in common will be an inspired drive to support our friends in drawing as out their inner engaged, energized, empowered elder. EVERYONE has one! For some, this might require a minimum of support; others may need a lot. Which leads me to a most important point...
There is no one way to drawing out & welcoming an inner elder. That is the challenge & the beauty of eldering. Shake off any idea of success or failure; instead, embrace the concept of more.
How will this all happen? I can tell you for absolute sure - it already is! The energies are pinging like crazy, just needing to be drawn out of the ether & into reality.
That might sound all new agey & "out there," but it's the best way I can explain what I've experienced happening, slowly slowly since 10/01, speeded up since 07/12. It's what I have dedicated myself to identifying, to giving form & substance. My vision is that by creating a consortium - a community, if you will - of inspired providers, a community of older friends dear to my heart will be served, with the ripples of inspired care reaching out further & further to who knows where?! (Not too ambitious, am I!!)
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
"SUCCESSFUL" AGING
Just came across an interesting article on "successful" aging. The author, D.A. Wolf, opened with an excellent point:
We’re a success-obsessed society. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised to stumble into the term “successful aging.” But I was. And at first, I was confused. What could successful aging possibly mean? Managing to stay healthy – until you’re not? Having sufficient money to cover doctor’s bills and medications? Avoiding, if possible, being shuffled off to a home – tucked out of sight and mind, even more invisible than the worst invisible day in midlife?
She came across a Psychology Today article written Kathryn Betts Adams, PhD, MSW. (What I'd give to that combo of letters after my name!) Dr. Adams takes Ms. Wolf's point & runs with it!
As a gerontologist, I probably see it (the term) more often than most of you, but I believe it is an idea that captures the imagination at midlife. We Baby Boomers are pretty competitive, and we like to do things well, so we are eager to prove we can age well. We’ve seen the ads for medications in magazines and the self-help columns and books spouting other related phrases, too: “vital aging,” “productive aging,” and various “age-defying” products.
It's an interesting article, well worth the read if you have the time. But although I found it worthwhile, its various suggestions on what could be described as successful aging were far from what I would describe, as letterless as I am.
I believe that everyone - no matter what their state of mental or physical condition - can lay claim to successful aging IF they are making the most of what they have available. Which might be a pretty lousy physical condition or increasing memory problems or other difficulties. It doesn't mean the absence of those realities, but rather making the most of everything else. Seeing them as the boulders in a white water rafter's water course, which she spots and uses the force of her element to slip past.
My Mom - god bless her! - put it pretty well in an article SHE wrote about a year before her death in 2001, at 91:
(Life) is not all "beer and skittles"--there are some rough patches. The changes that come with old age are scary, especially changes in life roles. I have not enjoyed the hands-on role of wife for over 26 years. At ninety, I cannot even manage the role I played as a parent. The resources just are not there. I cannot provide massive emotional or even minor financial support. I cannot wash a floor or do the grocery shopping or even dust my own room. (I can still shell hard boiled eggs and clean mushrooms!)
Mom looked at the crumbling of her physical condition without a "Woe is me!" attitude. As she entered her 90s, it was what she expected, or as Mom put it, "Today, my body constantly clues me in that it is merely temporary. It is breaking down. That is in the order of things, however rotten it is to experience. "
Where was Mom when she had the fall that ushered in her final hospital stays, her departure from us? In Alexandria, Virginia, where she was looking forward to playing host at a brunch for family and friends who lived in the Metro D.C. area. She had to depend on us for a ride down from Bryn Athyn, couldn't enjoy the privacy of a separate room because she needed help getting to & from the "loo," had to always space her activities so she could do the maximum with her increasingly dwindling energy supplies. She faced those challenges & moved past them, unlike a lot of people who would either avoid spotting them or be swept away by a sense of loss.
I wish that Mom could read this, the first post of a blog celebrating the work I intend to do from now to my own departure - helping my older friends live their own semblance of the life my Mom enjoyed to the end of her days. Just as each of us can be as fit as possible within our reality of health, so each of us can age as successfully as possible, given our realities. And it will look different for each and every one of us.
It's been such a joy, over the past six weeks, to feel the loose ends of my life begin to untangle and then team up to form beautiful bows of new purpose & opportunity. I have absolutely NO idea what my great endeavor - older2elder - will be in form & structure, but I am excited to find out. It will be no easy task. I am all inspired enthusiasm & a bit of experience; what I need to become is master of the various aspects of helping olders ease into being elders, which means all sorts of revealing conversations with myself & others, lots of careful planning, and mega leaps of faith.
There is something spectacularly powerful in realizing that there is a great work to be done & that I'm the gal to do it, that this is where all of my life paths have been leading, what all of my experiences have been forging me to embrace. Am I one of the most blessed humans on the face of this planet or what?!
The past year was over-the-top wonderful, full of unexpected opportunity & newly discovered paths & gee whiz accomplishments. And none of it just happened. I put in a lot of years - decades & decades - of effort working toward I knew not what, but something I knew was out there, if only I didn't lose faith. The same can be said of people who have tipped their way into elderdom - they put in decades & decades of effort getting to where they are, working toward an unseen goal, but something wonderful.
I want to be their guide. What makes me the right person to be doing this? I mean, there are no initials after my name. I don't even have a blog that people turn to for insight & inspiration. Just me, believing in what I have to give - and, better yet, believing in what my older friends have to give. I believe that, with effort & inspiration & joy, that will be enough. Together, we'll find their definition of "successful" aging.
We’re a success-obsessed society. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised to stumble into the term “successful aging.” But I was. And at first, I was confused. What could successful aging possibly mean? Managing to stay healthy – until you’re not? Having sufficient money to cover doctor’s bills and medications? Avoiding, if possible, being shuffled off to a home – tucked out of sight and mind, even more invisible than the worst invisible day in midlife?
She came across a Psychology Today article written Kathryn Betts Adams, PhD, MSW. (What I'd give to that combo of letters after my name!) Dr. Adams takes Ms. Wolf's point & runs with it!
As a gerontologist, I probably see it (the term) more often than most of you, but I believe it is an idea that captures the imagination at midlife. We Baby Boomers are pretty competitive, and we like to do things well, so we are eager to prove we can age well. We’ve seen the ads for medications in magazines and the self-help columns and books spouting other related phrases, too: “vital aging,” “productive aging,” and various “age-defying” products.
It's an interesting article, well worth the read if you have the time. But although I found it worthwhile, its various suggestions on what could be described as successful aging were far from what I would describe, as letterless as I am.
I believe that everyone - no matter what their state of mental or physical condition - can lay claim to successful aging IF they are making the most of what they have available. Which might be a pretty lousy physical condition or increasing memory problems or other difficulties. It doesn't mean the absence of those realities, but rather making the most of everything else. Seeing them as the boulders in a white water rafter's water course, which she spots and uses the force of her element to slip past.
My Mom - god bless her! - put it pretty well in an article SHE wrote about a year before her death in 2001, at 91:
(Life) is not all "beer and skittles"--there are some rough patches. The changes that come with old age are scary, especially changes in life roles. I have not enjoyed the hands-on role of wife for over 26 years. At ninety, I cannot even manage the role I played as a parent. The resources just are not there. I cannot provide massive emotional or even minor financial support. I cannot wash a floor or do the grocery shopping or even dust my own room. (I can still shell hard boiled eggs and clean mushrooms!)
Mom looked at the crumbling of her physical condition without a "Woe is me!" attitude. As she entered her 90s, it was what she expected, or as Mom put it, "Today, my body constantly clues me in that it is merely temporary. It is breaking down. That is in the order of things, however rotten it is to experience. "
Where was Mom when she had the fall that ushered in her final hospital stays, her departure from us? In Alexandria, Virginia, where she was looking forward to playing host at a brunch for family and friends who lived in the Metro D.C. area. She had to depend on us for a ride down from Bryn Athyn, couldn't enjoy the privacy of a separate room because she needed help getting to & from the "loo," had to always space her activities so she could do the maximum with her increasingly dwindling energy supplies. She faced those challenges & moved past them, unlike a lot of people who would either avoid spotting them or be swept away by a sense of loss.
I wish that Mom could read this, the first post of a blog celebrating the work I intend to do from now to my own departure - helping my older friends live their own semblance of the life my Mom enjoyed to the end of her days. Just as each of us can be as fit as possible within our reality of health, so each of us can age as successfully as possible, given our realities. And it will look different for each and every one of us.
It's been such a joy, over the past six weeks, to feel the loose ends of my life begin to untangle and then team up to form beautiful bows of new purpose & opportunity. I have absolutely NO idea what my great endeavor - older2elder - will be in form & structure, but I am excited to find out. It will be no easy task. I am all inspired enthusiasm & a bit of experience; what I need to become is master of the various aspects of helping olders ease into being elders, which means all sorts of revealing conversations with myself & others, lots of careful planning, and mega leaps of faith.
There is something spectacularly powerful in realizing that there is a great work to be done & that I'm the gal to do it, that this is where all of my life paths have been leading, what all of my experiences have been forging me to embrace. Am I one of the most blessed humans on the face of this planet or what?!
The past year was over-the-top wonderful, full of unexpected opportunity & newly discovered paths & gee whiz accomplishments. And none of it just happened. I put in a lot of years - decades & decades - of effort working toward I knew not what, but something I knew was out there, if only I didn't lose faith. The same can be said of people who have tipped their way into elderdom - they put in decades & decades of effort getting to where they are, working toward an unseen goal, but something wonderful.
I want to be their guide. What makes me the right person to be doing this? I mean, there are no initials after my name. I don't even have a blog that people turn to for insight & inspiration. Just me, believing in what I have to give - and, better yet, believing in what my older friends have to give. I believe that, with effort & inspiration & joy, that will be enough. Together, we'll find their definition of "successful" aging.
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