Always in transit, never arriving. What a potent walk through darkness and radiance, Susie; and kiudos to your mother and to you. Today's 6 months to my next birthday so now I'm just a few hours closer to 79 than 78. A little behind you but on the same dance floor. Cha cha cha!
What kind of dancing did you do back in the day? I was taken by the fact that everyone at the club in Berkeley was dancing by themselves facing the band. It was an interchange between the patrons and the musicians. I don't remember that. I do like to dance by myself but also with one other person and a whole group of other people. Your birthday is September 12? That's my anniversary!
Welp, I don't know why I have goosebumps on reading this one. The clarity is not in my mind. But the recognition is in my body. Deep breath noticing the tingling over my skin. Yep. there's a gift here and I am receiving it. Thank you.
another fantastic column. Just when you think you are getting it and adapting well, another wave slaps you around. And you never know beforehand where it will take you.
We are all swimming in the same stream. My insight today was that that applies to people of all ages. They may not be thinking about it as much as older people do but they're treading water just the same.
I wouldn't let yourself be embarrassed about people who call you old or think you are in your 80s. Sounds like you were having a good time. Have it. Don't care what others think. I tell everyone I am 83 - even a French chef in a post that will be coming your way on Saturday - with a very surprising outcome.
You just don’t know. This is central to what life is. No matter how much we contemplate our experience, no matter how mindful we are, we enter every day - every moment - innocent of what will happen next and that’s what makes being alive both so dark and so radiant at the same time.
You have just summarized, in these few exquisite words, dear Susie, a big, life-organizing dream I had many years ago, as well as my passionate attitude to living. I especially love the last several words you write.
Here's my dream: I am to row alone to an island, on God's holy day. To plant seeds, of uncertainty and unknowing.
Jinks....I know your rowing dream and have incorporated it into my storehouse of deep images. Sometimes we have to borrow other people's dreams, don't you think?
“This is central to what life is. No matter how much we contemplate our experience, no matter how mindful we are, we enter every day - every moment - innocent of what will happen next and that’s what makes being alive both so dark and so radiant at the same time.” This. So moving.
It seems to be the core of spiritual practice...To re-orient ourselves to impermanence and understand that we are always and forever starting over again.
Hi Susie :) I will be 64 in June this year - if I make it (lol). I have inoperable Ovarian Cancer and although it seem I am doing “ok” according to my Oncologist and Nurse Practitioner, I never assume or interpret that as meaning “you have a lot of time left”. I have always told people my age without qualm, and always will. I always hope they’ll think “Wow, she looks way younger!” But in reality, why should we care what some stranger or casual acquaintance might think about us? I am enjoying your posts and I hope you might come by to Subscribe to my stack, The Wistful Neo-Druid. Nice to meet you!
Hi Deborah......I read your piece on being a Neo-Druid and found it appropriately enchanting. You have a unique perspective that will no doubt find many readers. Wishing you many blessings as you meet your health challenges.
I've thought many times about the unknowing of life; mostly we don't know that we don't know because there seems so much continuity between one day and the next and some changes in life sort of gently slide into one another but others are abrupt and shocking and there's no way to prepare. We'd be more alive if we really knew how uncertain life really is--just look at our current political situation--my God, who would have known how bad things could get and it's just starting.
Beautiful piece. …”That’s what makes being alive both so dark and radiant”…
Thank you for commenting on that particular phrase. I hold that deeply.
Always in transit, never arriving. What a potent walk through darkness and radiance, Susie; and kiudos to your mother and to you. Today's 6 months to my next birthday so now I'm just a few hours closer to 79 than 78. A little behind you but on the same dance floor. Cha cha cha!
What kind of dancing did you do back in the day? I was taken by the fact that everyone at the club in Berkeley was dancing by themselves facing the band. It was an interchange between the patrons and the musicians. I don't remember that. I do like to dance by myself but also with one other person and a whole group of other people. Your birthday is September 12? That's my anniversary!
Welp, I don't know why I have goosebumps on reading this one. The clarity is not in my mind. But the recognition is in my body. Deep breath noticing the tingling over my skin. Yep. there's a gift here and I am receiving it. Thank you.
It's very encouraging to hear that, Pam. I found this to be a complicated subject to take on and I wasn't sure I was successful.
"Aways in transit, never arriving." Five words that succinctly describe the process of living.
All spiritual practices seem to be aimed at learning that, don't you think?
another fantastic column. Just when you think you are getting it and adapting well, another wave slaps you around. And you never know beforehand where it will take you.
We are all swimming in the same stream. My insight today was that that applies to people of all ages. They may not be thinking about it as much as older people do but they're treading water just the same.
I wouldn't let yourself be embarrassed about people who call you old or think you are in your 80s. Sounds like you were having a good time. Have it. Don't care what others think. I tell everyone I am 83 - even a French chef in a post that will be coming your way on Saturday - with a very surprising outcome.
Looking forward to the vicarious opportunity to eat la cuisine française.
You just don’t know. This is central to what life is. No matter how much we contemplate our experience, no matter how mindful we are, we enter every day - every moment - innocent of what will happen next and that’s what makes being alive both so dark and so radiant at the same time.
You have just summarized, in these few exquisite words, dear Susie, a big, life-organizing dream I had many years ago, as well as my passionate attitude to living. I especially love the last several words you write.
Here's my dream: I am to row alone to an island, on God's holy day. To plant seeds, of uncertainty and unknowing.
Bless you for your thinking and writing.
Jinks....I know your rowing dream and have incorporated it into my storehouse of deep images. Sometimes we have to borrow other people's dreams, don't you think?
Yes, I absolutely believe that some dreams are meant to be kind of universal. In fact, I had a dream once that told me just that!
"We are in an ongoing negotiation with one another, with aging, with transformation. Always in transit, never arriving." So very hopeful!
Never arriving is difficult for us to negotiate. It runs against the grain of all of western thinking for hundreds of years.
Very glad I found your work, Susie.
It's a form of magic when that happens.
“This is central to what life is. No matter how much we contemplate our experience, no matter how mindful we are, we enter every day - every moment - innocent of what will happen next and that’s what makes being alive both so dark and so radiant at the same time.” This. So moving.
It seems to be the core of spiritual practice...To re-orient ourselves to impermanence and understand that we are always and forever starting over again.
That’s freeing.
It helps me “be” rather than “do.”
It lifts a great weight off my shoulders.
yes. And as you said, I have to rinse and repeat as needed! Best regards
I used to tell people I was older...then they'd say you look great for your age....
now I can't remember....
Bless you ..your writing always lifts my spirits and improves my mind
Wonderful to hear from you, Jasmine. I always thought "you look good for your age" was a kind of backhanded compliment.
Great piece
We are certainly always in transit, literally and figuratively..
Hi Susie :) I will be 64 in June this year - if I make it (lol). I have inoperable Ovarian Cancer and although it seem I am doing “ok” according to my Oncologist and Nurse Practitioner, I never assume or interpret that as meaning “you have a lot of time left”. I have always told people my age without qualm, and always will. I always hope they’ll think “Wow, she looks way younger!” But in reality, why should we care what some stranger or casual acquaintance might think about us? I am enjoying your posts and I hope you might come by to Subscribe to my stack, The Wistful Neo-Druid. Nice to meet you!
Hi Deborah......I read your piece on being a Neo-Druid and found it appropriately enchanting. You have a unique perspective that will no doubt find many readers. Wishing you many blessings as you meet your health challenges.
I like what French writer Jules Renard said about aging: "It is not how old you are, but how you are old."
What does that mean to you, Paula?
To me it is about living our best life whatever our age.
I've thought many times about the unknowing of life; mostly we don't know that we don't know because there seems so much continuity between one day and the next and some changes in life sort of gently slide into one another but others are abrupt and shocking and there's no way to prepare. We'd be more alive if we really knew how uncertain life really is--just look at our current political situation--my God, who would have known how bad things could get and it's just starting.
I appreciate your point about the seeming continuity of life. It puts us in a trance.