Such a relatable essay if you are adjusting to being 70+. Needing to hold onto something when you put on your pants is an indignity you will grow used to. And, as you say, there are lovely compensations for the wobbling, love being chief among them.
Holy Moly, your post arrived just in time. At the end of this dreary, not snowy winter on Lake Ontario, I have been engaging in what I call “This could be the start of something big” daydreaming. These dreams begin with an idea, then expand to some form of “improving” the world or myself. Baby steps. Yes!
Also your writing—sentences, images, metaphors are stunning❣️
It has been a dreary winter, hasn't it? I wonder what your grand ideas are about and whether you could select one and scale it down a bit, rather than abandoning it.
Thank you for this piece about physical aging and the gains of love possible in this period of life. I was particularly touched by your description of your sister and the dignity you offer her with your love. Thanks as always for the pleasure of reading what you’re experiencing. 💚🙏🏽🪬🕯️
Thank you, Rachael. It's been my experience that I learn from all sorts of encounters with people, some of whom I hardly know. But...the long term deep growth comes in my relationships with people who are beloved and essential in my life.
Thank you so much for this Susie! It feels like you were listening into a conversation I had with two old friends this afternoon. We go back over 50 years, and we were trying to articulate what you call 'beaming'. It's such a gift, really surpassing the inevitable physical losses.
Yes. I feel that it's a special privilege that some people are blessed with. Certainly it's possible to grow old in the grip of infirmity and miss the beaming! But if you are gifted with the opportunity to beam and be beamed at, there's nothing quite like it.
Very glad it spoke to you. I've learned so much from you and have, I'm sure, incorporated more than a little of that into my speculative writing. Wishing you good health and wellbeing out there in Italia.
" Imperfection after all is the taste of life. It’s not the taste of honey. It’s bitter and good for you like turnip and salad greens and is best eaten in small bites. " This sentence reared up and bit me. Thank you Susie Kaufman for your 'words' today. A tonic!
I love this piece because I have been thinking alot about what is meaningful at this stage of life and feel your deepened feelings are definitely where it's at. I continue contemplating it.
I think we who have spent so much time looking into things are blessed with a wide expanse of colors and textures to ponder even as we move more slowly and see more dimly.
Such a relatable essay if you are adjusting to being 70+. Needing to hold onto something when you put on your pants is an indignity you will grow used to. And, as you say, there are lovely compensations for the wobbling, love being chief among them.
The compensations are as unexpected and surprising as the losses. The challenge seems to be learning to give them equal weight.
Holy Moly, your post arrived just in time. At the end of this dreary, not snowy winter on Lake Ontario, I have been engaging in what I call “This could be the start of something big” daydreaming. These dreams begin with an idea, then expand to some form of “improving” the world or myself. Baby steps. Yes!
Also your writing—sentences, images, metaphors are stunning❣️
It has been a dreary winter, hasn't it? I wonder what your grand ideas are about and whether you could select one and scale it down a bit, rather than abandoning it.
Dear Susie,
Thank you for this piece about physical aging and the gains of love possible in this period of life. I was particularly touched by your description of your sister and the dignity you offer her with your love. Thanks as always for the pleasure of reading what you’re experiencing. 💚🙏🏽🪬🕯️
Thank you, Rachael. It's been my experience that I learn from all sorts of encounters with people, some of whom I hardly know. But...the long term deep growth comes in my relationships with people who are beloved and essential in my life.
Thank you so much for this Susie! It feels like you were listening into a conversation I had with two old friends this afternoon. We go back over 50 years, and we were trying to articulate what you call 'beaming'. It's such a gift, really surpassing the inevitable physical losses.
Yes. I feel that it's a special privilege that some people are blessed with. Certainly it's possible to grow old in the grip of infirmity and miss the beaming! But if you are gifted with the opportunity to beam and be beamed at, there's nothing quite like it.
Exquisite. Such a kind piece of writing...
"Kind" is just about the nicest adjective you could apply to my writing. Thank you for hearing it that way.
Dear Susie:
This piece is remarkable and I want to read it over and over.
Very glad it spoke to you. I've learned so much from you and have, I'm sure, incorporated more than a little of that into my speculative writing. Wishing you good health and wellbeing out there in Italia.
I'm not sure. But isn't it lovely to think so?
What did they used to say....seeing is believing.
Susie, Home run in the bottom of the 9th to win the Work Series! Say hi to Frankie. zingy guy
Will do, Larry. Wishing you all good things.
" Imperfection after all is the taste of life. It’s not the taste of honey. It’s bitter and good for you like turnip and salad greens and is best eaten in small bites. " This sentence reared up and bit me. Thank you Susie Kaufman for your 'words' today. A tonic!
I know. Sometimes I just want cotton candy but there's a limit to how much of that a person can eat.
This feels like a triumph. Mazel tov mazel tov!
Thank you, Don. Expansiveness is always available if you make space for it, don't you think?
I love this piece because I have been thinking alot about what is meaningful at this stage of life and feel your deepened feelings are definitely where it's at. I continue contemplating it.
I think we who have spent so much time looking into things are blessed with a wide expanse of colors and textures to ponder even as we move more slowly and see more dimly.