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age

āj/

noun

1. 1. 

   the length of time that a person has lived or a thing has existed.

   
   

   "he died from a heart attack at the age of 51"

   
   

   synonyms:

   number of years, length of life;  stage of life, generation, age group "he is 35 years of age"

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2. 2. 

   a distinct period of history.

   
   

   "an age of technological growth"

   
   

   synonyms:

   era, epoch, period, time, eon "the Elizabethan age"

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verb

1. 1. 

   grow old or older, especially visibly and obviously so.

   
   

   "you haven't aged a lot"

   
   

   
   

   You have no idea how hard I've worked at avoiding this subject. I've gotten all kinds of odd projects done this morning while I tried to stay away from what I want to write today. 

   
   

   I've never thought much about age, at least up until a few years ago. I was focused on other things, like school, marriage, traveling, my change of status to parent, money and all of the other things that come up while you race to keep up with your life. 

   
   

   We didn't do much about birthdays. The birthday person always gets to pick the meal and kind of cake they want and they can also choose to have a party. Sometimes our sons wanted parties, sometimes they didn't. Neither John or I did. It was another day, a way to mark the passing of time. I always made the cakes and special meals, even my own. But I love to cook so that was no big deal. And I loved some of the wacky ideas my children came up with too. 

   
   

   30? No big deal. I was young, strong, busy. 40? Again no big deal. I was young, strong, busy. 50? Same, same. I was in my prime. I had some big time failures in my life by 50 but who doesn't? I kept getting back up and leaping. 60? I was doing just fine until ...

   
   

   

   Friends starting dying because of age related issues or even suicide. Some died of drug overdoses. Seeing my adult children dropped down to once every year or two. We had Christmas together for the first time this past year in more than ten years. Look at that number ... TEN YEARS. 
   
   I had an accident involving my horses. I've come off before. All riders have. But I always got back up, brushed myself off and said, " Whoa partner. What just happened there? " And we would figure it out. Sometimes it was wind on a cold day and sometimes it was something under the saddle or girth that was irritating (My bad. It's up to me to check equipment, make sure my horse is neat and tidy, relaxed and connected.) But this one involved broken bones, metal plates to put things back together and a lot of physical therapy. 
   
   And then friends started teasing me about wrinkles, black balloons, sagging and blah, blah, blah. Nothing too unusual there except this time I believed them. My skin really was wrinkled. Things that I never thought would sag, did. Heck, I even had wrinkles on my knee caps. Who knew knee caps would wrinkle? Weight was harder to control. Keeping myself in condition was more of a challenge. Holy smokes! They must be right. I'm old!
   
   And I came to a slamming screaming halt on just about everything. I began to isolate myself. I stopped trying. Couldn't seem to focus. I wasn't sleeping well. I was crabby, unhappy, angry. In short, I believed the crap we're all fed by any media we come in to contact with. Everyone was younger than me and I was dismissed and overlooked because I didn't have any special achievements. I was in the 'back burner' time of my life so why bother?!
   
   

   

   
   

   And then a young friend died, and another and another. I cried a lot. My animals were dying too; cats and dogs. And while I grieved, something shifted this past year. It was like hitting a stone wall while riding. WHAM! I sat there stunned and my perspective blurred then shifted and clarified. I was here, breathing, alive and I was wasting time. If there is anything anyone would change at the end of their lives, it's the need to have just a little more time to be with people they love, go on adventures or even read the sequel to that really good series you were only part way through. I had to find a way to change some bad habits I'd developed while I was hiding out. I was done spinning my wheels and going no where. And I also needed help. The bog was deep and sucking my boots off. I was completely mired down. 
   
   

   

   
    I made a list of priorities. Where was I lacking? Turned out it was just about everything. So I rearranged the list, 1. to a number bigger than I want to admit to here. I needed a coach. On the top of my list was a genuine fear that I wouldn't be able to keep my horses or complete my commitment to them. Commitment is an important word for me, the core of who I am. If I give you my word, I keep it. If I have to change my mind I do it honestly and as quickly as I can. But I don't lie, I always apologize and try to make up for my short comings. And when I commit to a person or animal I always keep it. I've seen what happens when animals and people are abandoned by the ones they love and trust. It's devastating. 
   
   I took a deep breath, paid for the service and found a coach. It's a four week stint. I wanted it to be a good, steady push to get my engine going again. I'm hoping that getting back on track with my horses will lead to focus in my art and writing, and reconnecting with the world. 
   
   

   

   
   I'm in my first week. It's been harder than I thought it would be. There's some inner conflict I'm having to rake up from the muck and deal with. It isn't my skill levels keeping me in place. It's a deep seated lack of confidence, an unwanted weed I let grow in my gardens. I used to identify myself as a good student, an excited and willing student. Seems I put her in the corner and left her there to wilt. I'm going to have to transplant that part of myself and start out in a better 'location'. For the first time in my life I'm more frightened of the process of learning than I am excited by it. That's new for me. 
   
   

   
   

   
   

   

   
   

   Everyone else is ready, waiting for me. I'm in an "approach and retreat" process with myself while I step up to the gate, feel those butterfly wings fluttering around in there and step back again. Forward, backward, rest, repeat. It's OK. I watched a TED Talk on body language and how it impacts your inner version of how you see yourself. Super-Woman stance, head up, shoulders back, deep breaths, smile. Keep your sense of humor Nancy. Smile again. Practice the body language again. Now try one more time. the only one grading me is me. Breath in to it. Yin, Yang. Balance. Stretch. Be brave. Ask for help. Believe. Set goals up close and further away too. Try. Set your prickly pride to the side. You're doing fine girlfriend. Now. Try. One. More. Time. 
   
   Hate to leave you hanging, but that's where I am. I've been doing my homework but I'm also blanking out on it too. So I'll go back and do it one thing at a time. Breath Nancy, breath...
   
   

   
   

   
   

GUN METAL GREY, WIND AND LEAPING ... AGAIN

We're in that gun metal grey time of the year. It's cloudy more often than not and the wind blows ala Kansas. If I were a writer of music I could draw a melody from the sound it makes as it goes around the corners of this 'former barn to house' that we live in. Each month it's in a different key and rhythm too. In January it's tone is lower, throaty with a moaning chorus behind it. It's the dead of Winter here and, even on warmish days, it's cold because of the never ending wind.

This year I decided to change it up. I'm going back to being a paying student. I'm always a student. If my life had taken a different route I think I would have been an academic of some kind. I love to learn. This year I'm paying for help which means no bowing out, no finding reasons to procrastinate. I need help over some of the humps in my life. I've allowed myself to fall in to a set of bad habits. As a result I'm wandering around in aimless circles, whistling to myself in the fog. Time to restart my mojo.

I had a friend who, years ago, told me that I exhausted her with all of the changes I put myself through. How could I keep taking new paths when the old ones worked just fine? Wasn't it hard, redefining myself? I was like an out of control caterpillar who, just when it was time to shuck off a cocoon and become a butterfly for a few days and then die in a blaze of glory, I changed my stripes, size and colors and started chewing on something new. 

She was right. It was exhausting, frightening, heart slamming scary. I kept leaping and falling, and ever so often making the next ledge, barely. If there are scars from emotional and mental "burns and injuries", I am pretty dog gone crusty and ugly by now. Hitting walls and bruising myself with my efforts was my modus operandi. And I loved it too. I kept running straight at the cliff and throwing myself, full monty, off the edge with a comanche yell. 

And then friends started to die from age related illnesses and even suicide. And someone else convinced me I was old. I made the mistake of listening. Maybe it was grief. Loosing people you've been friends with, laughed and cried with and complained about the things you can't control with, was sobering. How could I keep running straight at those cliffs and ledges with such abandon and loving it when they were suffering? 

What was I thinking of? I'm a grandmother now. Isn't there some 'Grandma form' I'm supposed to follow? And I did too. For some reason I believed them and then myself because it really is my own voice that slowed me down. I've never let anyone else keep my feet away from those chance taking ledges before. I was the one who stopped trying.

Maybe it was breaking some bones in a preventable accident. I knew exactly what I did wrong after the fact, knew it was me who set it up to happen. But bones heal and, in a weird kind of way, I sort of like my cyborg status. It gave me street cred. I now have little metal plates that helped my bones to heal straight and strong. It was all so sci fi of me. And I did it without drugs too, except for ibuprofen at bed time to allow me to sleep. (There are addictive tendencies in my family. I'm not interested in discovering them in myself.) My doctor was very clear. "Nancy, no horses for at least four weeks." Yeah, right. The day before I was scheduled for surgery I was outside with my rake cleaning and feeding. And two days after I went out and did everything for six weeks with one arm. Actually it was an interesting challenge. And it was fascinating to watch the horses react to my odd posture with an arm stuck in the air. 

But if that was what slowed me down, it was just an excuse. It was my much delayed middle aged crisis (I always was a late bloomer.) at the ripe old age of sixty something mutter, mutter, mutter. That's old, right? It's getting in to the big numbers, the sliding down the hill faster and faster numbers. I'm in the more time behind me than in front of me category. I BETTER BE CAREFUL! So I pretty much came to a snail's crawl. It's not in my nature to stop completely but I wasn't exactly leaping anymore either. Instead I started loosing sleep, stopped exercising with intension, started whining about things I couldn't control and very effectively trapped myself in to a rabbit's warren of tight little paths and several ways out. I got dull. And panicked. And I cried a lot too. 

I wasn't excited about anything. I started little projects and piled stuff up in my studio, putting off the process of making a mess. I began to dwell on politics, the lack of money (because taking enormous chances, for me, means a lack of funds. My choice. I grew up with money and my childhood was miserable. It was not the source of happiness.) and loneliness. I had become what I did not want to be. I was stalled.

Funny how horse related terminology comes back in to play. I was stalled. I was closed up in a too small inner room with very little space to maneuver in. And, like any creature who is meant to be outside, under the sun with space to run in and friends to play and work with, I set myself up to begin to wither. (More horse terminology). I was failing. I was making myself sick and unhappy, moving in to crazy making depression. I was genuinely afraid and it wasn't the exhilarating breath catching leaping kind of fear either. There was nothing positive about it. I was behind self made bars looking at the world from a self imposed dark space in the name of so-called safety. 

I love that image. It's out of focus but there's also a sun glare off the lens that makes me think of cheesy guys with a sparkle in their smile. And my problems seem to be out of focus too so, somehow, it works within the story line. Time to focus, to leap, to fill some of the promises I made to myself and my herd. I'm dull. They're bored and we all need a change, a goal. So I paid for help, rejoined the Parelli organization (I'd left it because I was frustrated with the tech changes. Learning about the internet is not so much fun as necessary if I want to keep up with a lightning fast world.) and here I go.

I don't have permission to use the instructor's name but I did choose someone who lives fairly close in to me, comparatively. And I followed this instructor's free live feed videos to FB too. We're doing a four week course. I'm focused, primarily, on getting my goals set back up with my horses so I can move ahead again. But I'm also hoping it will help me to get myself moving with my ideas to write, paint, illustrate and leap off cliffs. 

Oh boy. Here we go. I'm back in school and ready to sit up front, waving my arm around. " Me! Me, me, me!" And I'll do my best not to be a class cut up either. I promise, no fish swallowing on a dare. (Someday I'll tell you about that story too. I only got away with it because I was an honors student. )

YIKES! Trust, Nancy. Remember? TRUST.

I am, ever yours, Miss Nancy, balanced on the edge and looking in to the hairy, scary space in front of me, gulping and smiling ... sort of. Time to let go of that fog!

MY ONE WORD FOR 2018 : TRUST (or how I seriously considered binging on junk food while looking this "beastie" in the eye)

Since 2001 I've chosen a word to live my year by, instead of resolutions. At first it was probably because I was being lazy. I thought one word would be much easier to chose and stick to. In that weird way that the Universe likes to teach me, usually with a wicked sense of humor, I found out it was much harder to follow one word for a year. It's a Zen thing. One word takes me months to decide on. I write lists on scraps of paper, in notebooks and sketch books. Later, after the new year has begun, I'll find pieces of paper with words I'd forgotten about but thought they were important at the time. I salt my environment with words.

Maybe it was just me, making it difficult. I like a challenge. Or, perhaps, it's the pared down idea of one word in a world full of videos, on line news, libraries and Kindle downloads and the endless procession of movies that makes it harder to focus on and think about just...one...word. All of the endless data being thrown at us in two minute increments can be overwhelming. 

I'm like Phoebe, my "elder" cat. She prefers the quiet of a good sun bath in front of the glass doors to going outside and defending territory from passing feral cats. She likes to sit in perfect Zen fashion, contemplating the quiet and her own heart beat. 

We have no TV, rarely listen to radio except for music. I read, paint, draw, write, garden and take care of my four legged crew, large and small. I worry about bills and try not to dwell on the loneliness of being so far from my sons. Ever so often I go through a minor freak out about the truth of aging. (It really isn't for sissies.) And I focus on goals, breaking them down in to smaller pieces to make them more attainable. One of those goals is living by my chosen word for the year. And this year I chose a doozy. This is going to be interesting, working my way through this one. I have HUGE issues around this word, that started back in a broken childhood.

My word this year is .... drum roll please! TRUST. Five letters, one of them a repeat. TRUST. I've really done it this time. That word scares the bejesus out of me! TRUST. I've learned to be pretty gun shy with people over the years. Like most of us I've been lied to, led on, manipulated, hurt by and stomped on by people I loved. It happens. We're all basically flawed creatures. I've probably hurt people who love me too. TRUST. That's going to be like carrying a box of explosives through a mine field with a flaming torch to see by. TRUST. My legs are shaky just thinking about it. 

I am going to have to leave myself open and completely vulnerable to practice this word. TRUST. I will have to TRUST that the Universe, the Force, God or however you label that unknown, bigger and way more profound than us power will take care of my path. TRUST is about love, faith, and allowing pain to happen. TRUST is the center of everything I am going to try to accomplish this year. I will have to TRUST that however things come out they were meant to be in my path for a reason. TRUST. Makes me want to binge on chocolate just looking at it on the page. 

TRUST. “All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.” 
― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

TRUST. Man oh man. I've done it now! Here I come 2018. TRUST. 

I am, ever yours, Nancy, smiling at the way I do this to myself. TRUST. (I think I can. I think I can. I think I can...)

SET YOUR BOUNDARIES; SAY NO!

I've been watching and reading the articles on sexual harassment, assault and rape in the work place for the past several weeks, like most everyone else. (I know. Can you believe I chose that as my opening image? Talk about a metaphor!) It's a melt down that had to happen sooner or later. When sexual advances are part of the work environment with anyone, you've crossed a line in the sand. It's just not acceptable behavior. It's unprofessional and it's embarrassing. And if the person is in a position of power and is using it to manipulate you or hurt you, it's obscene.  But like the middle of aisle person that I am, I can also see how easily you can become an enabler to behaviors that do not belong in your work place.

So let's discuss how to say an effective and definitive NO. It's really all about personal boundaries. No doubt this is going to be a complicated situation while everything is hashed out with clear descriptions of what exactly harassment and assault is.  I'm not going to try to define every possible scenario. But I do want to share some techniques for understanding the possibilities before you walk in to a situation that compromises your safety or even your dignity. 

Your boss says, "Let's meet later over dinner, in my hotel room, to finalize this." Your reply is, " No, thank you. I would prefer we meet in the restaurant (cafe, lounge, library, or whatever local, public place is available.) " You DO NOT have to give an explanation why. Be specific, pleasant and polite, professional. 

Your co-worker says, " Meet me in my office after hours. We need to discuss 'so and so'." You should ask another co-worker to stay with you. If you can't find anyone who can do that, you say," No. I'm not comfortable doing that. Let's talk now. " It doesn't matter where you are or who you're with, you have the right to stand your ground with a well stated NO. You do not need to give any other explanations. This goes for men and women, people. Set yourself up for success by not walking in to any possible compromising situation.

You're trying out for a part in a play or movie. It isn't unusual for trials to be held in hotel rooms. Movie directors and studios travel all the time, searching for new talent, a certain type of face or personality for a part. Go with a friend or agent. If you show up and there's only one person in the room, leave. There isn't a legitimate movie or play (musical, dance review, whatever the event is) who is going to meet with you alone. There's always a panel. Assess the room from the hallway and leave if there is no one else present. It isn't worth the part no matter who the person is waiting for you in that room.

You show up for a job interview. It's the same scenario. If the job applications and interviews are being held before or after hours, there should be more than one person present to interview you or at least a secretary just outside the door. Dress professionally and if some kind of question is asked or behavior requested that makes you uncomfortable, say " I'm not comfortable with this line of questioning. " or " No, I will not do that. " And then say, "Thank you for your time. " and get up and leave. Better yet, if the behavior is openly offensive, get up and leave without explanation or discussion and report it immediately to the people outside the door. Let the others sitting in the room, waiting for their interviews, know exactly what happened. Ask that the secretary be present while the interview is being conducted, especially if that inner voice of yours is giving you a red flag.

Good fences make good neighbors. My Grandad used to say that to me when I was a kid. He was talking in terms of farm land, crops and livestock. But it's applicable to most situations too. Set boundaries. Be firm inside yourself about how to make your fences easy to understand. Practice your 'NO' before you walk in to any situation. 

One of the systems that I use with my horses uses the metaphor, for describing how to apply pressure while learning how to communicate with your horse, " Hair, skin, muscle, bone." It describes the four phases of pressure. You always want to start with 'hair', the lightest phase (which changes from horse to horse, depending on how sensitive they are) to express your wishes. It's the same with humans. Set your emotional, mental and physical boundaries (fences) before your appointment or encounter. Be polite but firm. Make no excuses. You don't have to apologize for being clear about what you will or will not do.

Let's say you're already in a situation and the person with you is making advances. LEAVE. And if they're between you and the door, use your phone. If it's moving faster than that, pick up a lamp, a framed picture, a chair, your shoe (especially if you're wearing heels), and make noise. Hit the walls, break windows, yell, scream, hit the other person. Kick, bite, scratch. Hit them in the groin or grab it and pinch and twist as hard as you can. Bite them on the neck right where the artery is. BITE as hard as you can. Poke their eye out. Don't just touch, poke it and even pull it out. Bite their ear off. Yeah, nasty ideas, but extremely effective. Grab a finger and bend it back until it snaps. Stomp on their instep. Break their knee with a chair. Hit them in the head with anything you can get ahold of. Pull their hair out. AND NEVER STOP SCREAMING. I promise you, the other people in the hotel will hear you. Hotel security will show up. They don't want their rooms trashed or people getting hurt.

Better yet, keep track of your surroundings. Avoid alleys, especially at night. If you love to run for exercise, go out while the sun is up. If that isn't possible, go out with a friend. If that isn't possible, get a big dog. If that isn't possible, join a gym. It's like driving defensively. Set yourself up for success and safety by choosing to be aware and prepared. 

Sometimes things are just going to happen. Several years ago I was out riding my bike. I had several different routes that I took for exercise or just to get from one destination to another. It was a beautiful afternoon. Kids were out playing in their yards, people were working on their lawns or gardens. A jeep with four guys in it came up beside me and hit me, knocking me off my bike on purpose. I flew off, falling in to a ditch and rolling. My bike was hit by the jeep and the front wheel crushed. They drove on making obscene gestures and yelling things that made it clear they hit me on purpose. 

I had road rash down one side and lost one of my shoes and was completely rattled. But adrenalin hit hard and I was up and running before my fall was complete. I don't remember where it came from but I picked up a rock and lobbed it at them as they went around the corner, hitting the door and denting it. Probably not the smartest thing to do but there were children around. I'm a Mom before I am anything else. I go in to "lion" mode pretty quickly under those kinds of circumstances. 

People were very nice. They helped me to sit down while they called for help, brought an ice pack to put on the egg sized lump forming on my head. (That was when I started wearing a helmet for bike riding and horse back riding.) I and some of the people who saw it were able to give enough of a description including the dent on the door, to police and the people who did that to me were arrested and charges were filed against them. One of the boys in the jeep (and all of them were laughing and participating) had wealthy parents who wanted to "settle" with me. I refused. It didn't matter who was driving or who reached out and hit me. It mattered that all of them were part of it and I or someone else could have been seriously hurt. 

The point to this story is that I had chosen my route ahead of time. I knew the neighborhoods, was out during the day. I was still knocked off and hurt but there were also consequences to their actions too. And there were people near by who stepped up right away to help. I know that not all of you are in places where that is possible, but you can still be aware of your surroundings. You can take self defense classes. And you can do your best to set yourself up for safety by paying attention instead of walking around with your forehead stuck to a smart phone. 

That's a Locust tree. From a distance they're handsome in the landscape. They have a nice shape, are very useful, lovely colors and pretty leaves. The wood is strong and they grow easily. But when you get up close, beware the thorns. Be like a Locust tree. Be strong, be pretty, grace your surroundings, do your job  but defend yourself and understand how to use your "thorns". Set your boundaries. Use your voice to say an easily understood, " No. " And remember that you set the terms and locations for any interactions, especially in your place of employment. I've been fired for setting my boundaries, along with four other women in the office. I went home angry and worried but I also left with my head high and aware of the fact that my dignity was intact and my territory was secure. And I found my way to being an entrepreneur too. And my employees were all treated with kindness. They liked working with me because their dignity was supported at the end of the day. They went home with decent wages knowing they could spend their time with their families, focused on them in a positive way.

Good fences really do make good neighbors. 

I am, ever yours, Nancy ... wishing that no one ever had to deal with creeps. Set your boundaries!

WITH LOVE FROM OZ...

I love Christmas and the Winter holidays. They're like a catalog of memories for me ; all the years of little boys and working so hard I lost weight while everyone else gained. I knew they would be small for an eye blink. I wanted them to have big meals, stockings full of silly things, excitement and waking up too early. And, I admit, I wanted it for me too. Being a Mom was a life goal for me. 

I was psyched and frightened at the same time. Things changed very quickly for us when my sons were babies. The support system of relatives were gone in an eye blink and John and I were on our own except for short visits from his Mom a couple of times a year. 

I did my Mr. Greenjeans thing and put my thinking cap on and got it done. I never complained about having my children. Once they were here they were my focus and we all made our leap together.

And here I am, all these years later, the slightly odd 'Cat Lady' plus two dogs, three horses and one donkey. I've threatened John with filling my Old MacDonald's song up with more too. I have 1 donkey, 2 dogs, 3 horses, 4 cats (plus one feral cat who shows up ever so often, hungry). I need to fill up the rest of the numbers to 10 but not this year. Goats, chickens, ducks ... the list has endless possibilities. But for now I'll be happy with the ten I do have. But I digress. Christmas...I was talking about holidays.

Years ago, on our first Christmas together, we decided to use ornaments that were either gifts, antiques or handmade. That makes our tree a bit eclectic. Over the years we've found ornaments at auctions that have someone else's history attached to them (see the green one in the background?). I've found them at garage sales, and art fairs. More than half of them are hand made. And I know where they all came from too, who made them and when they gave them to us. 

I love the slightly tattered edges, the dust from other Christmas trees and the old paper I save from year to year to wrap them in. It's like unwrapping last year and the year before and the year before that every single item. Sometimes John helps me. Most of the time it's just me, telling the stories to whatever four legged is sitting there, watching.

Sometimes I regret not buying more from an artist when I find them. They rarely come back to the same art fair. And I wish I'd brought more from the years we lived in Germany too. Those were our pre baby days when we had only the suitcases and backpacks to carry what we took home with us. 

This year I brought home a star for the top of the tree made by a local artist. I have one other piece of hers and hope to add more next year. See those tiny angels on the branches, surrounding the star? Those are from Germany. They're 45 years old and carefully wrapped in tissue every year, put in a container and labeled so I won't loose them. They always go at the top of the tree. And I knew my sons were close to leaving home when they were the ones who put them up there for me too. 

The felt Ornies came from a friend in Tennessee who makes and sells ornaments to help support her rescue. The leather and beads star is from a sidewalk sale, years ago. It was blistering hot and I had decided to go home. I walked around a corner and there they were, six of them. I bought them for $2 each when they had been $20 at Christmas. I felt like a million bucks, getting on my bicycle and riding home with those ornaments in my backpack. It was worth the sweaty ride too. The little dog was given to me by a friend who had gone to India the year before. 

The glass angel was from a friend who is gone from this world now and so is the hand painted glass sky ornament. The bead and wire mermaid I made while I told a story to my boys on Christmas eve, way back when they still believed in magic. I wove her together along with a story that became the beginning of a Round Robin story that we've kept going for forty years now. I can't wait to include my grandchildren in the story! And Apple? Made by my friend with the rescue. She had been following my posts about living with a goofy puppy who ate everything except the sofa and she even chewed a corner on that too! She is immortalized in felt on a Christmas tree. This is her third year on the tree and she had to carry it around for a while before I could put it up. She's very proud of her 'portrait'.

I suppose this is just blither to most of you who are still reading this, but it's an important part of what I think Christmas is about. (The felt tree I made when I was pregnant with my oldest son, the bulb hanging above it is one he made for me. The bird is from a friend who traveled to Mexico and brought it back and the funny Picasso-esk horse is from another artist I've known for years. She worked with me while she took a sabbatical when her husband was dying. It's a portrait of Lucky. ) 

I don't belong to any one religion. I was raised in four extremely diverse religions and discovered early on that people are all the same. It doesn't matter what group they belong to. They all just want to take care of their families and homes, help when people need it and live peacefully. It's that last word that is important. PEACE-fully. 95% of us aren't interested in destroying or killing. I honestly think that if people only had the chance to travel and meet others from the countries and religions around the world, wars would come to an end.

My favorite daydream/wish/prayer is a huge meal where every continent and country is represented at the table. Each family brings a dish they fix for holidays and shares it. It would be a giant pot luck where we all sat under the stars at long tables, passing dishes and trying to understand each other, teaching each other to say simple things like, 'I love you.' in the other's language. We would share pictures of our children and grandchildren, parents and grandparents. Afterwards there would be a bon fire where all of us took turns adding to a Round Robin story that never ended so they could take it home to their friends and towns, villages and neighborhoods.

I see the world as a huge tapestry of endless circles, knit together through our willingness to be there, holding space for each other. We all have stories and, if you pay attention, they all meet each other at the edges, over lapping. Life is a never ending Round Robin that started with stardust and brought us here, right now.

I know this is rhapsodizing, mushy and over the top. But so is Christmas and all of the other holidays that come with the Winter Solstice. I wish you all a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa and winter holidays filled with the people you love, too much good food and Round Robin stories that are told every year with new embellishments.

I am, ever yours, Nancy, smiling and remembering, hoping and wishing, sending you love from OZ!

CHRONIC INSOMNIA or HOW I FOUND MY SNOOZE AGAIN

Insomnia. Nearly everyone has dealt with it at some time in their life. It robs you of your energy and stamina, takes your days and tries to make them in to your nights. On an average night, 30 to 40 million Americans have difficulty falling asleep, staying asleep, or wake earlier than they would like and cannot get back to sleep. These are the major symptoms of insomnia, the most common category of sleep disorders. Although many people with insomnia may accept their symptoms as a part of life, poor quality sleep takes a toll. Studies show that people with insomnia are more likely to become clinically depressed, suffer from poor concentration, and have accidents. (A direct quote from a website titled HEALTHY SLEEP)

I have had something called Chronic Insomnia for years. I've tried meditation, extra exercise, no TV, no caffein, no meat in my diet, watching my weight, not watching my weight, laughing and crying, professional counselors, consultations with MD's, PHD's. I tried to console myself that, according to articles in major publications, I was in an elite group of highly intelligent, creative people who did not need as much sleep. (Bunk!)

The truth is I would rather not be in that so called 'elite' group. When I sleep well, at least eight hours straight through, I am an entirely different person. I stay focused, achieve more, laugh, think more creatively, work at a higher level. 

When I don't sleep I'm cranky, listless, cry at the oddest times, loose my place on whatever project I'm working on. I forget things and give up rather than seeing the failures as an opportunity to learn and do it better the second time around. And I am envious, deeply so, of family members (two legged and four) who simply lay down and sleep when they need to. 

Being up by myself is hard, lonely work. The world is quiet and here I am, again, angry and frustrated and so tired it hurts. I follow all of the rules. I get up, go sit somewhere else and meditate, read, breath and stretch, try to turn it around and see it as an opportunity to have extra time to myself. I go to bed at the same time, get up at the same time and avoid naps. And so on and so on and scooby, dooby, do on. And I miss sleep again the next night. It goes on like that until I make the decision not to drive anywhere because I'm afraid my ability to be safe is jeopardized. I don't want to be responsible for hurting someone else because of my lack of rest and sleep. 

My work as an artist, a story teller, a horse woman, and even partner to my husband suffers for my lack of sleep. I just can't think! There's a good reason that sleep depravation is an acknowledged form of torture. And it's worse when I begin to think I'm doing it to myself. I can do my best to override that idea by thinking it through, but sometimes I'm so tired emotions take over and I convince myself I'm a failure. It isn't logical thinking because I truly can not think clearly when I'm that tired. And getting caught in that negative loop does nothing but make it worse. It's like those crazy turkeys you see chasing each other around and around and around a tree. I'm one of the turkeys and the others have the names of "failure" and "frustration" with a few others joining; "exhaustion" and "anger". And around we go, trying to catch up with each other in a never ending parade that makes no sense.

And then I read an article about light. There are enumerable websites and articles on sleep or lack there of. I love the Google Gods for this. I read and read and began to experiment with light. I'm an artist. I'm hyper sensitive to color and light, have synesthesia (I hear colors . A 'bad' color will even make my teeth hurt. ) and poor lighting makes my eyes hurt. Gives me an advantage as a designer or artist and a disadvantage in a world full of bright light at night. 

For a while buying good lightbulbs was problematic. Here in the States it was illegal to buy or sell incandescent bulbs. The only thing available was ugly fluorescent light bulbs. It was either a searing blue, sickly green or yellow green or an irritating pink. I tried scarves over the light shades, painting the light shades, anything I could think of to make the flickering, ugly lights easier to live with. Nothing worked. Of course I spent more time on the internet trying to find solutions. That meant I was looking at the essentially blue colors that come from a computer screen. I was making it worse. 

The blue light from the gadgets, ugly flickering lights from the bulbs, were keeping me up. It was interrupting my natural circadian rhythms. Movies, as much as I love them for an escape, were adding to it. And reading wasn't helping either. I needed light to read. 

What I really needed was the natural, golden light that comes from the sunset and fire, to relax by at night. 

And I needed the bright, natural clear blue light that begins the day. I needed to go back a few hundred years to a time more suited to my circadian rhythms. Since I couldn't go back in time, I went to the local big box store and started hunting for amber colored lights. 

I found them too! There are amber colored LED lights being produced in response to the horrible colors of the so called energy saving fluorescents. LED's are pricey, about $8 per bulb. I worked with my budget and began to buy them two at a time on each paycheck. We've now replaced every bulb in the top part of the house except in my bathroom. That's the one I'll work on next. I'm using candles in the bathroom. Just between you and me, it's not a bad option for people of a certain age. It softens your face, giving you a better image in the mirror to look at. 

It's working too. It's taken about three weeks but I'm now averaging almost seven hours of sleep a night rather than the barely three I was dealing with. (That's an average. Means I had several nights of no sleep or only an hour or two every week!) I'm writing again, setting up a schedule to begin work/play with my horses again, painting, and re-entering the world too. I'd isolated myself as the insomnia got worse. 

Here's a list of the things that DID work :

1. No electronics after 7 PM. I do not look at a computer, iPad, or smart phone. I also dim the phone to sepia at sunset. I turn the pings and dings off and repower electronics in a room other than my bedroom.

2. My bedroom is for sleep, period. There is no desk. I no longer sit there and draw or journal at night. If I can't sleep I get up and go to another room until I'm yawning and sleepy again. And I sleep with the windows open unless it's really cold (like below 20 F) or super hot and humid (above 75 F). 

3. There is no clock in the bedroom. The blue light was keeping me awake. Yes, I'm that sensitive to blue light. And I don't want to know about the time either. Our world runs on schedules, schedules, schedules. Enough with the keeping track of time, at least at night.

4. We keep the house set at 63 F during the winter months. I usually turn the heat off during the day and open doors and windows. I also spend as many hours as possible outside in the fresh air, at least three every day of the year. A good part of the time we let the temperature drop below 60F in the house at night. We all sleep when it's cool. Cold is even better.

5. Noise is a tough one to control. We have teenagers living next door who have loud vehicles, an ATV without a muffler, loud talking and laughter. I turn on a small fan to try to give a 'white noise' to balance it out. And sometimes I complain, but that's never very effective. I love the natural night sounds. They relax me. I think it's safe to say I'm a country person, not a city person. The sounds of traffic, people, sirens, confusion is bothersome. I'm going to do my best to stay in the country. But there are ear plugs that will help. I can't tell you if they're comfortable because I've never tried them. 

And a purring kitten sleeping next to me. Best comfort sound there is, purring. And a sweet smelling puppy. (All of my animals keep that designation even when they go grey and need help getting on to and off the bed).

We still have no TV, a huge relief. And I sometimes go for days without reading the news also. I stay away from loud, slam bang shoot em up monster type movies and I put a stop to the texting stuff early in the evening too. I don't eat meat, stay away from caffein except for my Chai early in the morning. Meditation and self forgiveness is a huge part of my life. If I'm raggedy because I didn't wash my hair or wore the same pair of jeans from the day before, I let it go. If my house is not as neat as I usually want it to be, I let it go. I don't buy stuff. It's just stuff. If I want something I go through the process of looking at it, filling out the order forms and then I put the catalog to the side and let it be for a week. I usually find out I didn't really need it. It was just stuff. 

Am I sleeping? Better than I have in years.

 Oh...sugar. I'm still not using sugar. I bought some to make a pecan pie for Thanksgiving, ate a piece and jittered out of my skin for hours. No sugar is definitely part of this too.

Try the amber colored LED bulbs and turn off the electronics. Use good candles to eat by. If you absolutely have to work, get some good amber lensed blue blocker eye glasses. They're next on my list so I can wear them if we go out in the evening or visit a friend's house. I love this new rested me! If anyone asks about the glasses I'll smile and be enigmatic about it. I am an artist after all. Might as well use that status.

I am, ever yours, Nancy, sleeping again and smiling because I want to, not because I have to

SMILING, REMEMBERING AND QUESTIONING

This Summer, just a week after I wrote the previous post about suicide, a young friend of mine died after checking in to a motel room. (No gender, age, name or location will be used in this article. ) They died in a way that made the autopsy inconclusive, leaving behind friends and family who were completely devastated. 

I don't know why I felt compelled to write the article on seeking help, but I do think there is a reason . I think that we all are connected in some way, that what we do and how we choose to deal with our lives and the inevitable problems and pain that are part of being aware and human, do affect the world and especially the people close to us. 

In this case addiction was a long term problem in the life of this person. There are addictive tendencies in my family too. I have, over the years , attended Al-Anon and Narc-Anon meetings for family members while I tried to understand what sends a good person down the road of self medicating and , eventually, self destruction. 

Those were good places to go for commiseration but not for the basic understanding I was seeking. I took a minor in Psychology while at University, and worked for a program in the Psychology department while trying to learn more about the unexplained need to alter yourself mentally and physically. 

I learned about various kinds of trauma, events that trigger emotional and physical reactions years later. I went through years of therapy, went to group therapy, and even interviewed neurologists, psychiatrists and psychologists while working on a program combining equine and art therapy. 

In the end, when yet another young friend died while under the influence of drugs and alcohol (there have been four very close to me, all from good families who's parents worked hard and loved them) and a whole section of my family who lived in chaos and went to prison, are convicted felons (three of them) and my response was the same each time. WHY? Why would anyone want to hide inside a drug or bottle? WHY? How could they waste even one opportunity to learn, to fail and get up, move forward and try again? 

I've studied brain injuries and trauma, psychosis, genetics, and the long term effects of poor nutrition, use of addictive drugs and alcohol, lack of exercise, lack of sleep on the human body while I try to untangle a complicated problem that was never really mine to solve. I know that it's always the person who injures their self repeatedly who has to answer that one word question. WHY? It really is up to them to ask it in the first place and then take the first frightening steps to change a terrible pattern. They need to find out HOW to help their body, mind and soul recover and stay in the game longer. 

I absolutely know that. I've participated in interventions before. Mostly an intervention is exposing the bald truth and waiting for the denial and blame to come at the person who opens the rabbit's hole and makes people look down it. No one wants to hear the truth, at least not initially. Denial is a form of self preservation. None of us wants to hear that we've become enablers or addicted. Admitting to either of those positions or conditions makes us vulnerable. We end up being exposed. Others will see our ugly under belly, the failures, weakness. Society has a tendency to denigrate the addict and the enabler. Historically people like that have been cast out of families, villages and towns because they endanger others as well as using precious resources that are needed to keep people alive through the winter and spring while waiting for food sources to become available. 

I don't have any definitive answers. There are experts who've researched at a deeper level than I have who can give you more insight. For me? I'm still reeling from the loss of another young friend to years of self abuse. I'm still loosing sleep, crying when the light is a certain color or I hear a song that makes me think of my friend. And the question will always be unanswered for me ; WHY? There is no solution. They're gone and there is no do over, no more chances to try, no way to answer that one word question. Their circle is completed.

I am going to listen more to the inner voice that tells me to write about a subject that isn't usually talked about here. It was a warning that I did not heed and I am sorry for that. And I will call people I love just to hear their voices, to ask how their day is going. The old Girl Scout in me will keep working at being kind, helpful, respect others and offer a hand up when they fall. And I will do my best with what I have where I am and try to complete the project, reach the goal. 

I have no doubt that I will continue to make mistakes, bump in to people, create messes and fail on a regular basis. But I'm also going to keep loving myself and the people around me enough to apologize where it is warranted, to understand the value of boundaries and to celebrate the chance to try again; to learn, laugh about it and go on from there. Life is a never ending chance to explore, to become, to grow, change, and to find creative solutions. 

“You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.” 
― Anne Lamott

I am, ever yours, Nancy, smiling and remembering, and questioning...

PS. And there will be flowers planted to celebrate the life of a friend who brought me great joy!