Comfort of my home

Grey skies tinged with pink

I relish the weekend spent here

Comfort of my home.

 

Veil of Elderhood

COVID casts a veil of elderhood over all our lives. Regardless of age, it lets us experience what it is like to be old and vulnerable. It has been a year now of working from home and coping with social isolation. How is this in any way different to how elders live who are long retired and have family far away? 

Until recently, I would tell others that this pandemic is what it feels like when coming off a long retreat. The vividness, the confusion, the sensitivity to over-stimulation, the deep stillness in my heart. Now, after a year, I still often feel this way, but it is also mixed with physical and mental fatigue. Having to daily face changes feeling powerless.

Thank heavens I am young of heart and mind. My body works without pain. If this is what it is like to be old, I better start now learning how to squeeze every drop of joy out of it, regardless.

* This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.

My first exposure to Japanese culture

 

Japanese soup bowls

Matsuo Basho's living life

In a Haiku poem. 

New memories

 

Never was a New Year so welcomed.

Slowly, I can move away from the 

Constant state of stillness that has

Haunted much of my movements

These last months and months.

Instead I will improvise constantly

Stretching, flexing, dodging, delivering

Whatever, whenever, something comes

To mind or from my heart, my heart

No longer trembling, but pumping

Life elixir through every part of this 

New life. Today. This very moment.

* This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.   

Early morning tea with Bach

It is a dark early winter morning

My weekend sits deep in my

Sleepy limbs and cotton batten brain

Bach winds around the Advent

Candlelight, as I turn my computer on.

Quilt comfort

My grandmother used to sew and crochet quilts. She would make one or two a year. She donated these quilts for her church's yearly Christmas bazaar. Her quilts would often "find" a buyer (usually someone of the Ladies Auxiliary Committee) before the bazaar began. We would tease her about how popular her quilts were even though no one at the bazaars ever saw them.

What my mom told me...

Me: What did your mom tell you over and over about life?

Friend: Life is no picnic.

Me: What do you tell your son about life?

Friend: Life is a picnic!

* This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.   

Autumn into winter

The autumn leaves, the autumn of life

Bright phosphorescent yellows

Turn Halloween orange then burnt

And ever so frail, these last leaves

Tenaciously hold on to the very

Smallest of brittle branches and

This takes my breath away.

How much we want to live

How precious is this moment

Before winter, when we are

So hopeful that what comes next

Will be gentle and kind, a time to

Faithfully test our ability to survive all.

Though sometimes, I do question

My ability or common sense to hold

Tight to those small brittle branches,

To venture on... one step at a time, 

With love and affection, every single day

Is one more chance to get it right.

* This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.   

Loneliness and Aloneness

Having left home at 14 and lived on my own until 32 (when my son was born), I have experienced many of the nuanced feelings of loneliness and aloneness single-hood provides. The full gambit... despairing that I would never belong anywhere or to anyone... to sitting on the bow of a boat crossing an ocean and blissfully, joyously, knowing how large the world is and insignificant my concerns. 

What a journey those nearly 20 years of single-hood were. Looking back on them, I am thankful for them. They taught me much, in particular, the valuable lesson about the balance between self-sufficiency and vulnerability. Sometimes I wonder what past life I must have had to come to this world with this lesson to learn.

I am not lonely. I am alone in my being. All the while, forever connected to my family and friends.

* This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.  

Another quilt

Another quilt... I think drawing them taps into my engineering soul. Piece by piece. Patter upon Pattern.

 

I am starting another project today, "Growing Up & Growing Old" (gugo for short). Like the Hadley Story Corner, the end date is undetermined. Even the level of progress is questionable. One thing, is that whatever finds its way here, is only a first draft. Eventually, I would like to make it into some sort of visual book.

* This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.   

Quilting by numbers

 

1,500th blog post, this one

15 years of blogging, who would have thought

My son and daughter asked

If I would start blogging again 4 months ago

And even if I wasn't convinced, 

This is number blog post 43 this year,

16 this find month of October.

It was easier to do than I believed it would be

As is the quilt I drew along the way (see above)

Quilting by numbers, a new take on

What I liked to do as a child, paint-by-numbers

When I would try to finish before the 

Paints dried up. I thought the same

Would happen with this blog. Dry up. Not so.

 

Span of his life

 

Nomad Son is turning 30 tomorrow. What a long stretch of time this birthday signifies. How far he has come and hopefully, he has much more to experience and explore. While drawing this quilt above, I have been contemplating the span of his life and all that he means to our family and me. 

Home comforts

 

I have discovered the joy of drawing quilts. It is fun. It is meditative. And I can easily get myself lost in the process. This is really important because generally life around me is changing so substantially that I need the reprise.