Party Time

I've been at this party for quite a while, it seems. I glance at my watch. It's a quarter past sixty-two years old. It's getting late.

So, I went to this party.

 It was quite a huge party-- lots of guests coming and going, entertainers, refreshments, dancing, interesting discussions, a few arguments, everything you find at your typical huge party. I laughed, I danced, I met lots of people, got lots of hugs and a few cold shoulders. I ate a lot, sometimes too much. I helped out as much as I could because, well, parties are always a lot of work, you know-- making the food, keeping it replenished so no one goes hungry, arranging for entertainment, keeping the guests happy, cleaning up. Oh my, a lot of clean up.

I spent a lot of time engaged but I also spent a lot of time trying to avoid people. Oh, some of those people just got on my last nerve. Can you believe how irritating some people can be? And then some people can just be so darned enchanting and I followed some of them around for a while, trying to soak up some of their charisma and make it my own. When that didn't work, I spent a lot of time on the sidelines in a pissy mood until I tired of that. Now I'm just sitting and watching. The nice thing about being on the sidelines is that you can see the whole event with more clarity. You start to notice things you hadn't noticed before.

I am noticing, for instance, that the people who irritated me and the people who charmed me look a lot more alike from this vantage point. Interesting. I notice that folks involved in dancing and those engaged in clean up duties simply seem to be moving. Funny, I had enjoyed the dancing far more than the cleaning up, yet all I was doing in both instances was moving. Intriguing. The people in arguments look different to me. I realize it is because they no longer look angry to me, they look scared now. My heart breaks for them.

I hear both the music and the laughter from my spot at the side and they are merging into a comforting soundtrack that is making me feel dreamy and content. It's nice here on the side. People occasionally come by and chat with me and I seem to be able to understand what they are saying even if the words they use seem to tell a different story. They melt my heart, these people. They have me wrapped around their little fingers. I adore them because I now know who they are. They are me. And I am them. How amusing that I never saw this before. It was right in front of me all along.

I've been at this party for quite a while, it seems. I glance at my watch. It's a quarter past sixty-two years old. It's getting late. I'm not quite ready to leave yet, but I'm beginning to think about it. I know now that I won't leave this party bored or tired or dissatisfied or angry. No, I will make my exit with a smile on my face, the smile that comes from embracing the whole of the experience, just as it was, and calling it the best party ever.

A New and Improved Bucket List

I have somehow misplaced all my bucket list items. There is no reward offered for them. You can keep them if you find them. I have been working on a new list of things to do before I die. It's short. Not because I think I will die soon, although there is always that possibility. Not because I sell myself short, although I have done that at times. Not because I lack imagination or don't dare to dream or have caved in to my fears. No, it's short because I have come to that fork in the road where I must make a decision which way to go. Down one path are endless desires and wants and needs, ceaseless dream chasing, relentless restlessness and craving for more. I have been on that road and I have tired of it. Besides, it just keeps leading me back to this same fork in the road.

I don't really know where the other path leads. Oh, some will tell you they know where it leads. They tell you all about it, give sermons, write books about it, give you guidance and pointers and tips to help you on your journey. But no one knows. Not really. Nobody knows anything. I can no longer resist the unfathomable pull of that mysterious path because I have come close enough to it to know that it is permeated by, absolutely saturated with what I can only call Love, yet the full expression of its atmosphere could never be contained in something so flimsy as a word.

The new bucket list is short and simple. But it feels right. It feels so right. 

1.   Take the Other Path and go wherever it leads me.

2.   Pay attention to whatever is in front of me at every moment.

3.   When given a choice always choose Love.

Turkey Neck Resignation

While I was on vacation recently, a good friend gave me a copy of Nora Ephron's book I Feel Bad About My Neck which I read on the airplane on the way home. It was hilariously funny and I found myself laughing out loud at Ms. Ephron's ramblings about all the things which trouble middle aged women, the major portion of which have to do with the way we look-- turkey necks, crow's feet, sagging parts that used to be pert, skin that becomes loose and has a propensity to form spots, strange moles and blotches that one never had before, not to mention extra body mass that we are not used to having.  As we get older there is one humiliating physical defeat after another, it seems. For some of us, the mirror was never really the  best of friends, but now has become a taunting bully, at least in our own minds.  That, of course, is the key- in our own minds. The sources for where we got this inner image of what we are supposed to look like are many and we have discussed them exhaustively. We all know the drill by now. It's inner beauty that counts. Be yourself. Let your spirit shine forth. Beauty is as beauty does, is in the eye of the beholder, is only skin deep, and so on and so forth.  We truly believe all this, and most of us know how silly and shallow it is to focus on one's neck given the scope and range of problems in the world today, but some of us still feel bad about our necks. So what do we do with that? (Besides taking pictures with turtlenecks on and doing our best crane imitations?) Well, heck, I don't know.  All I know is, I have become, little by little, accustomed to my turkey neck and whether I like it or not (I don't) it attaches my head to the rest of my body and I definitely want that to continue to be the case, so I live with it. What strange creatures we are. Strange creatures with turkey necks.