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Passionate Longevity: The 10 Secrets to Growing Younger

I was tagged by MaryEllen today. I haven't been tagged in quite a while so this was fun but I think my entry is very boring. For starters, I'm not a Type A personality.

The Rules of this tag game are:
1. Grab the book nearest to you...no cheating!
2. Open to page 123. Scroll down to the fifth sentence.
4. Post text of next 3 sentences on to your blog....

As a typical Type-A personality, I decided to run off my excess baggage. What I didn’t know at the time was the profound way running would change my life. I found some shorts that barely fit, bought some basic running shoes and tackled one block, one LONG block.

These lines are from Passionate Longevity by Dr. Elaine Dembe. Dr. Dembe is a leading-edge chiropractor with a thriving holistic practice in Toronto. Her book focuses on teaching how to keep relationships strong, discovering your life purpose, nurtureing your spirit, remaining fit and active, listening to you body, maintaining your creativity, exploring new opportunities, and facing challenges with optimism.

Hummmmm, I have not read this book. It was in a pile that someone gave me. I may have to look it over. The book was on the bookshelf right next to me so I just reached out and this is the one that slid out. Considering my age, the things that have been on my mind for the past year and the food plan (I won't say DIET) I started today, it actually was a fortuitous find. Looks like I have found my next book to read after I finish Sparks' The Guardian.


I now tag Autrice, Cait, and Tara

Sunday Scribbles - Instructions

Interior of restored portion of Vladivostok Cathedral, Russia, 2003

Sur_ren_der

to_Faith.

Know.

One Deep Breathe - Autumn

The Fall of one's life

The loose ends wrapping up tight

Now hear a string break.

The Road to Apple Hill

Saturday morning started out as a trip south that went "south" by doing a 180 and heading north. The plans to drive to Merced turned into an escape to one of my favorite places, Placerville.
















The trip starts out through farmland and moves into rolling hills and rangeland.




















And passes through the picturesque towns of Ione and Plymounth.




















Two hours later we ended up in Diamond Springs with our longtime friends, Barb and Jeff (no pictures - sob - what was I thinking?) Every year we make the annual trek to the hills above Placerville to enjoy Apple Days, the region's Fall hommage to all things autumn and apples.





















Don finds a friend at Denver Dan's Apple Barn and Alpaca Farm.



















Grandpa's Cellar is a great favorite and we visit year after year. This is where I found a cute little recipe book for Lee-Ann, my chocolate swap partner. I just had to throw in that little tease, Lee-Ann.

We have known Barb and Jeff since the summer of 81. At that time we had one child and they had two. We ended up with two and they rounded their family out to four not to mention they now have three grandchildren. We have seen it all together - births through deaths. I consider them my bookend friends with the cycle of life shared completely by our two families.

We never have a chance to see each other without small children around and it is a wonder that we were able to spontaneously get together for this day of fun, just the four of us. As a memory, it's right up there with going to Disneyland and our group was made up of adults. Mind you, I love kids, but there is something very very special about these adults only memories. It's just us, talk of the past and dreams of our future. What is our big dream now? Well, Barb and Jeff went on a cruise this past January and we discussed it at length and the absolute necessity of OUR taking a cruise too. Since we have a wedding to celebrate in summer 2007, we are in the early planning phase of a cruise to Mexico in summer 2008.

My Day Starts Here

Every morning before I go to work, I stop in at House of Java. It is a morning routine I have kept since we moved here in 1998. Long before we moved here I would stop in for coffee, lunch, or a cold drink on the run. I watched the cafe go through three owners, each time its personality changing bit by bit. When Dora bought it eight years ago it slowly started to transform into a little wonderland of color, art, and comfort. It still remains a place to visit for a great cup of coffee even with the Starbucks now moved in across the street. Each morning I seat myself at the both farthest away from the door and closest to the carafes of coffee lined up against the wall waiting to provide endless refills. And across from my seat every morning is the colorful rainbow of glasses that provide a bright salute to the awakening day.

Homage to Fall

Autrice over at The Bemused Muse wrote a love letter to the Fall season. I enjoyed it so much, that I thought others might like to see it as well. Please click HERE to read. Enjoy!

One Deep Breath - Emotion

Solemn quietude
Remembrance washes my heart
Shocking callousness
Bitter flavors spew despairing
Tears flowing five years gone by

The Lifting Fog - Part II

After weeks of checking out on life, not only did I start seeing things again, I started doing things again. Friday night is SciFi Stargate SG-1, etc night but at 8:45 I was falling asleep. Usually I stay up very late so I can guarantee myself a good five hours of uninterrupted sleep. Waking up between 5 and 6 is pretty much the norm and there is the usual wake up in the middle of the night too. But Saturday morning I found myself waking up at 6 a.m. with no wake ups inbetween. I had gotten a good and solid nine hours of sleep.

I felt so energized. I put on the coffee, fell into my book to wake myself up, pruned and watered the backyard, filled the spa/fountain as it was getting low, wrote and posted a poem about Solitude, wrote to my sister, showered and headed out the door. And this was all before 10 a.m. House of Java provided my second cup of the day and I settled in with a copy of O Magazine, an August 2002 issue devoted to weight and body image. Martha Beck has an article in there on Page 57 that is totally worth reading. I turned my light on and pulled many of the loose ends of my thoughts over the past two weeks into a cohesiveness I had not expected.

My husband is very good at detachment. I have failed completely. Yet in Acceptance on the Road to Happiness Martha Beck not only says this is key to learning acceptance but she gives suggestions that I can make sense of. NOTICE JUDGMENTAL THOUGHTS. Judgmental thoughts court what she calls dirty pain, obsessing about what should be rather than accepting what is. The woulds and coulds and shoulds of life can amount to mental suicide. They remove us from reality and leave us with a terrible emptiness.

There is so much truth to this that it leave me cringing as I think of the time wasted but even this reaction is a waste of time. It's useless energy and does no good for the problem at hand. To surrender to reality, to detach and accept, is the pathway to effectively helping my mother. The how of detaching and surrendering is to COMPASSIONATELY OBSERVE. Don't try to control anything. Merely do what you know must be done. Observing the nurses and therapists, I now understand why this sort of work was not my calling. If these people were not able to stand back and observe compassionately I think they would burn out very very fast. So my job is to give her love, support, compassion, and time. Her fate is God's alone to know. Handwringing is useless and guilt and anger are banished by detaching.

Accomplishing this, I find a deeper, stronger self. Through meditation and prayer contentment arises. Contentment awakens our capacity for joy. I see little contentment in my mother's eyes these days but that does not mean I can't help her find her way to it. I can give her joyful smiles, hope, and thereness. As I become more relaxed within myself, I more fully experience the fruits of acceptance. There is a sense of relief; a sense of being in control instead of being controlled; clarity of thought. Acceptance points me in the right direction and I feel a release within that leads to a new sense of found happiness. There is an Asian proverb that says The mind makes a wonderful servant but a terrible master. By being in control of my own emotions and reactions, I can more fully utilize my mind so that I am no longer getting in my own way. I find I am even sleeping better.

It is ironic that the letting go process can give you exactly what you were struggling to achieve but failed to obtain by force. Yesterday I had a wonderful and successful visit with mom. But later in the evening when I stopped by she was startled, disoriented and combative. A few days ago I would have been wringing my hands, trying to snap her out of it, and causing disturbance within myself. But taking the lessons of acceptance to heart, I stepped back a bit. Mom responds well to one CNA in particular and I let her do her job. I reminded myself - her job is to serve and care, my job is to provide love and thereness.

And today I gave myself a day off. We went to Mass, breakfasted with friends, looked in on mom who was sleeping, and went home. And here I am now wrapping this up feeling okay with the decision to not see mom again today; to leave her in the good hands of good people and just let her hide for a while in sleep. Tomorrow will be here soon enough.

The Lifting Fog - Part I

Anyone who has gone through serious trials in life knows about fog lifting from one's mind. When it finally DOES lift you wonder "what took me so long?"

This past week I've been digging deep and yesterday a few things started to come together. To begin with, I started noticing the world around me. More precisely, I was seeing the people in the world around me.

People I have seen

The Hovering Man

I was driving back to work at the end of my lunch hour yesterday and was stopped at the Geer and Monte Vista stoplight. As I waited for the light to change, I observed from about four cars back, a couple waiting for the light to change as well. He was tall, broadshoulders, athletic, bi-racial, bald, dressed in sweats and a tankshirt. She was in jeans carrying a small pack. She was tiny with long brown hair and less than half his size. She was leaning lightly into the lightpost as she pressed the walk button. He faced her hovering but not crowding as he light touched her shoulders. She was facing forward accepting his touch but not moving towards him. His focus was entirely on her. Her focus seemed to be looking outward - waiting for the light to change. He turned away facing forward. He turned back and touched again. He turned away again. She never moved until the light changed. If I had to judge them as a couple right at that moment with no other information to go on I would have to think that he was much more involved in her than she in him.

Hippie Chick

Forty years ago women tended to fall into two style catagories. We were either London Mod or Hippie Chick. London Mod was knee-high boots, miniskirts, long straight hair with bangs covering our eyebrows. Double lines of mascara in black and white carefully outlined our eyes. The stare that peered out from beneath was old, without wisdom, and a bit bored with life. Hippie Chick wore soft flowy skirts, tie-dyed shirts, sandles, little make-up, the hair was long and wild. Bangs? NOT. Shaved legs and underarms? NOT. Bright and happy smiles? YES, absolutely. Hippie Chicks seemed to hear their own inner song. And it was Hippie Chick who walked into my office this past week.

Yes, in the year 2006 A.D., 1966 A.D. is alive and well in Turlock, CA. One young girl who totally fit the style of 40 year old Hippie Chick walked in and drop-kicked me back into the 60s. She is a new music major, I think, so I will be seeing quite a lot of her. I look forward to learning more about her.

Sherene

Thursday was my last black day for mom related stuff. And Thursday was the day I met Sherene. Wednesday I was angry at God and demanding that he do his job with mom. I didn't care if it was restoring her or taking her home. Either was preferable to the half-life she was living. Thursday morning He answered my prayer. I didn't realize it at the time but by the end of the day magic would happened.

I was having my usual a.m. coffee at House of Java. Sherene was already there when I arrived. I had never seen her before and believe me, all the early morning folks at least KNOW each other on sight. Somehow we got to talking (an easy thing at House of Java) and we ended up eating breakfast together. Surprise - we had ordered the same thing. That got a laugh out of both of us. Turns out that Sherene is devoted to a ministry of serving the poor and spend a lot of time ministering at gospel missions. She is Catholic and brings the Word directly to those most in need, materially that is. Our talking came around to mom, as it always seems to these days, and she asked if she could visit and pray over her. Of oourse it was OK and as we parted company I thanked God for the good start to my day.

Fate wasn't finished with our meeting however. I stopped in to see mom after work and Kris arrived a little later. Mom was sleeping and unwilling to wake up. As I wandered out into the hallway, who should come around the corner but Sherene. As we visited there in the hallway, Kris came out and all of a sudden the conversation stopped. Sherene was glowing. Kris was glowing. Hugs were being shared by the two of THEM. I went into shock. They KNEW each other??? Kris had met Sherene some time ago when the Epicenter Cafe was still open. Kris worked there and Sherene used to come in everyday for coffee and study. After the cafe closed, they lost touch.

God was truly at work. I felt a lightening within myself and I felt a circle closing around the four of us as we prayed. Sherene will be back and I look forward to seeing her again.

Moving Day

As I pulled out of the gas station this morning, I saw the funniest sight. I was turning one way and a bicycle was going the other. Picture this - a man is riding his bike. His bike has baskets on the front and back. This suggests to me that this might be his primary mode of transportation. Balanced on the handlebars sticking straight out over the front wheel was an endtable. The image struck me as so funny and there was my camera buried in my purse as he headed away from me. I wondered about him for a while and decided that he must have passed a yardsale and found the perfect endtable to include in his livingroom. Moving day from a driveway to a new home. It was an innovative solution to resolving the problem of furnishing one's home. Oh for better timing. What a picture it would have been.

Bumpersticker Lady

For a longtime now, I've been asking God if He has a mission for me, some job He would like to see me accomplish. I'm not talking about a couple of months longtime, I'm talking about years longtime. Today the request came through loud and clear. At least three years ago, my friend Joe travelled to New Orleans for a conference. While he was there he took the opportunity to visit many of the beautiful places there. One place was St. Louis Cathedral, the oldest Catholic cathedral in America. This visit was about a year after the tidalwave of scandal swamped the Church. When he visited the giftshop there he spotted a bumperstick for sale that read I am thankful for the thousands of GOOD priests. He brought it home as a gift for me. Little did I know that I had received the seed of my mission.

Over the years, people have noticed and commented on my bumpersticker. They have all been kind and supportive and have wanted to know where they could find one. I was grateful for their excitement, positive spirits, and willingness to talk to me, a stranger. I have been disappointed that I could not send them to a direct source.

After a while I got the idea that I would very much miss this bumperstick when I one day traded the wagon in for another car. Then it occurred to me that it couldn't be THAT hard to make up a bunch of bumperstickers. If I had them on hand, I could give them to people whenever someone commented. As all good ideas go with me, this one sat on the backburner and simmered and basically went ignored. Once in a while I stirred the pot but that was it. Enter the bumpsticker lady.

About a year and a half ago I was on my way home from a dental appointment. At a corner stoplight (yes, another stoplight incident) a woman in a van next to me honked and signaled for me to roll down the window. She loved my bumperstick and where could she find one? Alas, I had to disappoint her. Well, today in the Big Lots/Michael's/OSH parking lot, she found me again. This time we pulled over, swapped names and cell phone numbers, and I told her of my old idea of making bumperstickers and giving them to anyone who asks about it. A mission was born and it's birth crywas finally heard. I have an acquaintance who has a printing business. I'm going to call her on Monday.

One Deep Breath - Solitude

Not precisely a Haiku this week but . . .

Searching within
Only to find
Loss and confusion.
Interior castles
Teaching
Unexpected lessons
Daily
Echoes everlasting.

Guilt and Anger Take A Holiday Part II

Last week I read an article in a recent issue of People Magazine about lifesaving pets. The stories were all uniquely different but all had a core of unity - animal awareness and their humans who heard and responded. I think this must be a very rare occurrance or we would hear more about such events. More common are the times that unusual animal behavior is overlooked. Such an event happened during the first hour of mom's stroke.

Her next door neighbors in the building had a small dog and they would take him out to walk every morning. When they came back into the building, the little dog started whining and crying and scatching at mom's door. Being responsible pet owners and not wanting to cause a disruption, they pulled the dog away and hurried him into their apartment. Later, when mom was discovered they realized that the dog was hearing something that they could not - mom crying out for help. I know they felt badly later for not "getting it", but really it was no more their fault than it was the Gloria scheduled an early morning appointment or that I wrapped myself up in a false blanket of security regarding her safety. Life happens as it happens and all the could haves and what ifs in the world won't do anything except make one miserable and guilt-ridden and angry.

Two years into her stroke recovery, I had finally come to accept the fact that mom had come as far as she would be able. We had her safe and settled at St. Thomas. She had two rooms to herself, she was surrounded by the things she cared about, she had daily Mass and Holy Nuns watching over her. I had allowed myself to slip into that safe place that told me that mom had at last come to her final home and barring any drastic illness, would quietly and gently slip away in God's time. I had come to believe that my prayers for her eventual quiet passing had been answered. Her fall (such a minor thing) in early July shocked me back to reality.

Now two months into her recovery from her fall, I have found myself plagued by would have's, could have's, should have's, what if's, and if only's. And plague is just the right word. I feel like a plague has descended upon my head and its main objective, like any disease, is to keep me from finding my own way to self-healing and as a result I am of less benefit to my mother. Plague says "Be there twice a day no matter the quality of the visit", Healing says "Be there once a day and accept you mom in whatever mood you find her in". Plague says "You mom is being terrible to you. Punish her by staying away for a couple of days." Healing says "This is aging. This is a possible path to death that all of us might take. Love anyway."

Plague/Healing. Healing/Plague. For the past three days mom has been mainly sleeping whenever I, or like today with my brother Dave, show up. "What kind of quality is THAT?" Plague asks. Healing answers, "Accept where she is at. Look around for something during that time that you aren't with her that might benefit her." What an idea! and today that is exactly what I did.

Shortly after mom went into rehab, we started singing together. This is something mom always liked to do and when she would become aggitated, it would calm her down and redirect her emotions. I had discussed briefly the idea of getting a cassette player and headset with her speech therapist so that she could listen to a lot of the old tapes that we have, an idea the therapist loved. Plague told me for two weeks, "cassette players with headphones are old technology. You will never find a new one, go to Goodwill, find a piece of junk. Maybe it will work." How depressing is THAT? But today Healing said, "Go to Long's. Check it out. You might be surprised." One trip to Long's and my search was not only successful BUT it resulted in a sturdy and good-looking cassette player and was less than $10.00.

Leaving mom again today without much of a visit was sad but unlike previous visits, I wasn't despairing. And when I go to see her later today, I hope my musical surprise will bring a measure of pleasure to her days. Healing got through to me and I listened and now I've starting to pack up Guilt and Anger to send them on a well-deserved holiday to HELL. They will have lots of good company there.

A long comment that bears sharing

Autrice from The Bemused Muse left a very lengthy comment on Guilt and Anger Part I that won't fit into the comments section. However, what she wrote really bears sharing and I post it here. I think many of us will relate and I'm reassured that my feelings and reactions are, in fact, normal and human. Often when we are in the midst of one of life's great dramas, we lose sight of that. I know I certainly do

Annie - OUCH. I'd be beating myself up as well, and every time I thought of it, I would be wondering "if only I had called" or "if only Mom lived with us." We can "if only" ourselves to tears (or death!) My own mother went through a "if only" when her mother had a stroke. My Nonna was staying with my Aunt, and when the stroke happened, my aunt was right there and the paramedics whisked my Nonna off right away. The complications were severe, and my Nonna passed away shortly afterwards. So, my mother, living in CA, had her "if only I was in Ohio with Mum" moments for a long time. And my aunt? - "if only we lived closer to the hospital!"

When we live every moment of the day stressing because our loved one is apart from us, it turns into an obsession. It takes over our lives, and shackles us so that we can't live. On the other hand, "if only" is normal thinking. I'm sure Gloria thinks "if only I had skipped that appointment!" Well, if only they served breakfast to the residents in their rooms, or if only they provided life alert to all residents! It doesn't matter when it comes to "if only" because things always happen according to God's will.

If only Pope John Paul hadn't died... would we have Pope Benedict? If only Judas hadn't betrayed the Lord... would someone else have, or would we not have his suffering on the Cross? If only Mary had not given birth to the Lord... she would not have had to suffer the pain of watching her son die.When I get the urge to inflict myself with "if only" when thinking of the tragic things I have gone through in life, I am reminded of the words Pope John Paul spoke: Jesus, I trust in you. This came right from the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy.

Things happen as God needs them to, and when you think "if only", don't punish yourself... because it is all happening as God intends, and there is something positive about it. "If only I had called Mom" becomes "God had Gloria find her because He knew how much more painful it would have been had I been the one to discover her!"

God had your Mom sell her mobile home because he knew, down the line, she should be in a place where she could be discovered quickly. She lives in a complex that has the proper procedures for taking care of senior citizens and the medical emergencies that happen to them - if she had lived in your house, and you came home from running an errand, would you have a staff on hand to help you during the immediate emergency?

I can't say that you are wrong to doubt, or that your feelings of guilt and anger are incorrect... because God created us to have these feelings! I can promise you that, when my own Mum eventually goes through something like this (she is 71), I will fall apart as my world comes to a crashing end. But, I also know that the strength to heal is within me (and you!), as it was in my mother when her mother had her stroke. That strength comes from the Lord. It is born of love and the bonds between ourselves and our mothers, and as we mature, it grows.

Someday our mothers will leave this beautiful earth and walk with Jesus in heaven, and the hardest thing we will ever have to do is watch as they struggle in their final days or years. I think the amount of pain we feel is a good measure of just how much we love them. Your mother is a beautiful and goodly woman - I know this because I see her reflected in her daughter! I don't have to know your mother personally to see her shining through your own kind heart! It doesn't matter that she is in a hospital, or if she were on vacation in Florida! You see, that part of her... the part that echoes all the amazing things that make her loved by those around her... will shine for eternity through you and your own children. It is a legacy of love and compassion that cannot be broken by the oppression of death at our doors. It is the most powerful gift we can be given by our mothers, and it is the most powerful gift that we can impart to our children.

Nothing, NOTHING, can take that gift away from us! Depression, sadness, anxiety, guilt, anger - all are okay to go through. We mourn an illness or death because we have sorrow that the one we love can no longer be as they once were (our mental picture of them, always younger than they currently are, and full of vigor!) It is a selfish but totally understandable and human one. These are emotions that come from the heart, and they are an expression of love in themselves. Please don't get angry at yourself for having these feelings!"

You are in my prayers, as is your Mom. I know this is probably too long to publish as a comment, and you don't have to publish it at all.

A Little Piece of History

Kris and Mom picnicing at a park in San Jose, CA 1990. Krista was five years old here. Her red hair has lightened up over the years but she still has the red. Mom was 70 and didn't look a day over 60. She had great skin and terrific bones.

Guilt and Anger Take A Holiday - Part I

I've been thinking quite a lot lately about guilt and anger. Just about the time I think I have the start of this piece, something happens and my thoughts go off in a different direction. So after several trips down deadend roads, the most recent of which was last night, I find myself at yet another starting point. This time my guide was resignation.

About a year after dad died in January '01, I worried a lot about mom's health and her isolation. She was living in Modesto at the time and we had moved to Turlock about three years before. Granted, I was only 13 minutes (not speeding minutes) away but there was always this worry in the back of my mind - what if something happened to mom and no one found her for a while. The logical answer, of course, would be to get one of those little lifeline alarms one wears as a bracelet or necklace but figuring out three phone numbers to program in was a problem. Mom hated to bother people and rarely reached out to others. Oddly enough, she never declined giving help to others, but asking for it herself??? Well . . . no.

Anyway, time went by and when mom successfully sold her mobilehome, the alarm idea fell off my radar. Mom was now living in a senior independent living apartment complex, was surrounded by lots of nice people, was making new friends, going places, and creating a wonderful post-dad life. She was in a routine that kept her present in the daily life of many people and I wrapped myself in a false sense of security.

The problem with routine is that it can be disrupted so easily. So, one terrible morning my mom missed breakfast. Her friend Gloria had a medical appointment that morning so had left early and did not return until lunch. The routine was that mom and Gloria would always walk over to breakfast together unless other plans were happening. They always checked with each other. WhenGloria didn't find mom at the dining room, she asked others about her whereabouts, but no one remembered seeing her that morning. Gloria, being the widow of a Army General who had been assigned to the Pentagon and with a history of visits to the White House, was truly a take-charge woman. So with Rick the maintenance man in hand, she went to mom's apartment. It didn't take long to discover that my mom had suffered a massive stroke hours before. And here lay the birth of guilt and anger.