mirror1Over the last few years I’ve been on a hell-of-a-ride that, by a whisker, I live to tell their tale. The reason I begin my blog this way is to inform that not even the word grateful depicts how I feel to be alive: in the truest sense of that word—living. In the before I was appreciative; now I know life to be in the hands of each moment. Sure, I still plan and anticipate and hope because, well because I’m here. Yet, the feelings behind the words hell-of-a-ride are still brittle. When they strengthen I’ll tell their story.

Today follow me into the Aging Mirror… At my age I tend not to look into any mirror, let alone one with the word aging in it. But in spite of this confession, stick with me because I have a feeling we will both learn something. First I must set the stage for my mirror: Father Time and Circumstances. The Supporting Actors: experience, knowledge, right place/wrong time, troubles, second chances and intentions.

My childhood: Italian Father/English Mother and the associated forty-two first cousins may make clear my mad desire to record/write/blog whatever I observed or experienced. My first writings are in a red plastic diary with a small silver key and today books and blogs and life stories. When young I took no notice of time fleeting. But these days I ask Mother Earth to slow the milliseconds without upsetting gravity.

As to looking into the aging mirror these days; well that is a Horse of a Different Color. As Dorothy discovered in the Wizard of Oz she’d had the choice to return to Kansa all along; just a click of her Ruby Red Slippers. The analogy here for me is that when I look into the aging mirror these days I too have an option. I can choose to look away from what time has created or I can look with admiration at the woman I’ve fought to become. It isn’t what I see in the mirror—it is instead what is reflected back.

Life Lessons

June 22, 2011 – Lessons since my last blog!

{DISCLAIMER: I list but a few lessons lest readers ‘drift off’ into their own!}

Over the past several months, my mother showed up from the ether of the afterlife. She came to set me free from something I didn’t know I was doing. The irony is that during her lifetime I tried to set her free from depression. This feels like a mother bird (in both cases) that sits on her eggs until they hatch and are freed to fly on their own.

Our past is NEVER passed. It reverberates like the beat of a drum in rhythm with our anger and our healing.

Illness (mine, minor but long-lasting) can strike without notice or permission and, aging is an acquired taste.

Two younglings (ages five and two) came to enlighten our home and remind us to live in the moment.

The truth is we all have the right to love and be loved! This lesson is not new to me—just more important in how I will live the rest of my life knowing it.

When I find myself in this breathing space, I go through my journals (age 12 and forward). A reminder of the other lessons I’ve learned and some I still ponder.

As I write this blog, Dahlia, no longer a puppy sleeps beside my chair. She is at total peace with our time together.

My hope is that our time together is also in the peace of this moment.