Friday's Child Redux

I’ve had a pretty easy life, compared to the horror that some people experience in childhood or adulthood. Really easy, actually. I was born white and free, and was raised in a middle-class family with two parents in a small town in America. I had the added benefit of a loving grandmother who lived nearby.

A good start. I’m retired now, because I had the good fortune to work all of my life, contributing to Social Security, and to spend the last 1/2 of my working life at an agency that provided me the opportunity to end up with additional retirement income.

I’m healthy. I have good friends. I have plenty to eat. I own a house and a car. I still have one living family member, as you know–my mother. Most of the time that’s a blessing. Not all the time, frankly, but most things in this life are that way, aren’t they? Not all good, not all bad.

If I outlive her, I will be alone. No other family. I was an only child, and all of my uncles and aunts have passed. I have cousins, but we don’t keep in touch, and our lives and our beliefs are very different. Fortunately, although I don’t have a lot of friends, the ones I have are good people who are good to me.

I have been very fortunate and I don’t take any of it for granted.

The one thing I ever really wanted, however, has eluded me–living my life as an author. I wanted to write books that changed people’s way of thinking, in the way books had changed my thinking growing up. I worked hard at making that dream come true for a large part of my life, but it was not to be. I’ve never been published anywhere other than the local newspaper. I had to accept that I was not the great writer that I imagined I was, and that the dream was not going to come true.

That acceptance happened about 20 years ago, and now I don’t consider it a failure. It is just what happened.

When I was young, I thought my life would be a lot different than it has turned out to be. I had that big dream, and it never occurred to me that it wouldn’t come true if I worked hard at it. That’s a very American thing, isn’t it? Something we really believe–you can do anything you set your mind to, if you work hard enough. Horatio Alger and all that. I bought into it heart and soul.

It certainly is true for some people. It has not been so for me. No matter what I did or how hard I tried, writing did not turn out to be my path to greatness in this life.

However, even though I may not be an author that anyone has ever heard of, I am still, and have always been, a writer. I’ve been writing since I was a little girl, and blogging for a long time. It’s just a part of me and something I enjoy. Blogging, especially, has allowed me to write with the possibility of having readers. It’s been a good thing for me. I write other things, too–stories and poems, mostly. Sometimes essays. Just for me. Because writing is simply what I do, who I am.

With, or without readers.

I have learned to focus on and write for the integrity of the words on the page, and not for views or likes or anything else. I don’t have any control over any of those things, and it is not mine to worry about. Sometimes, even after all this time, though, I still hope for a post that gets thousands of readers, rather than the 15 or so views that I average each day–most of which are AI bots. Whatever. I’m human. There is always hope, after all. 😉

Expectations are the enemy, though, and I know that. I have only failed as a writer if I expect more than I receive in exchange for my words. That’s true of everything in this life, really. The world doesn’t care about our expectations; only our commitment, and our efforts. My role is to put words on paper or online. That’s it. The rest of it is not my concern. No one ever promised a rose garden, right? Especially if you didn’t make the effort to plant one. You just do the thing you feel called to do, and whatever happens as a result of that, happens. Period.

I made the effort, and the “roses” still have not grown. Despite the American Dream, and my rock solid belief in it and in myself. You can plant the seeds, water them, fertilize them, pull the weeds, and still end up with no flowers. Ask any gardener. The amount of work you put into anything does not in any way guarantee the outcome you want. That’s just the reality of human life on this planet. Doesn’t mean that effort was wasted, especially if you enjoyed it and learned from the process.

It’s the focus on the result that is the failure. No honest effort toward anything is ever wasted.

So I keep writing. Lately I’ve been thinking about submitting some pieces for publication again, which I have not done in at least 25 years. There is a chance they would be accepted and published and have readers, but there is a much bigger chance they will be rejected. If I don’t try, though, there is no chance of anything.

I don’t believe in destiny or fate, a god, Walt Disney, or angels. I don’t pray, practice affirmations, have faith in manifestation, or wish on stars anymore. Of course, your mileage may vary. This is just my take on it. I’ve tried it all, believe me. I think anything and everything is possible, but unreliable, at best.

I trust myself–my heart, my brain, my soul–music, words, and the natural world around me. That’s it.

I think relying on “outside” intervention of any kind is setting myself up for disappointment. Expectation again. I’m constantly surprised by the things that happen in my life, and those that don’t, and if I’ve learned nothing else in my time here, it’s that I don’t have any clue what’s going to happen in the next minute, hour, day, or year. I don’t have a crystal ball. Neither does anyone else. I think believing that you are smarter than time, nature and life, is just ridiculous.

I don’t know what’s best for me. Neither does anyone else. I would never have imagined that the most important thing I would do in my life is care for a woman I was totally at odds with for most of it.

I often feel more like I have survived my life, than lived it. I had a plan, and almost none of that plan has worked out in the way I envisioned. I have just moved from one living situation to another, one job to another, etc. The only constants have been friends, bicycling, writing, music, and my family. It has all worked out just fine. I have learned more from the “failures” than the wins, for sure. I have been changed in the ways I needed to change, and helped to become a better person.

I’m not done with any of it yet, and I’m grateful for that.

I have talents that the world knows nothing about, and weaknesses that no one knows about, either. We all do. I’m the only one who knows myself fully. That’s true for each of us. I like myself, just as I am. Until the very end, I’ll just be over here writing, and enjoying my life as much as I can before it’s time to move on to whatever is next.

The only thing I know about anything for sure, is that it’s all good.

✌️

I have chosen the circumstances of my life. I’m comfortable with who I am. I’m not perfect, but I’m not a horrible person, and I do the best I can. I used to believe that everyone did, and for the most part, I think that’s true still. Our current president in this country, and his staff have convinced me, however, that it’s not true of everyone. Some people are horrible just because they can be, and that’s sad, but it doesn’t really have anything to do with me.

I’m only ultimately responsible for myself. I’m also responsible for 2 cats, because I have forced them to live with me and have denied them the opportunity to fend for themselves in the world. My guess is that they’re okay with that – they’re both pretty fond of treats and a cushy place to sleep.

I’m responsible for my mother’s care now, and have been for a while.

I’m not responsible for the kind of person she is or the things she does or the decisions she has made or the ones she makes now. I was never responsible, nor am I now, for her happiness. It took me a long time, and a lot of therapy to understand that. I’m not convinced that she understands that, but I do, and so we’re okay.

She’s not the same person she was when I was growing up, and for the most part we get along pretty well now. She has lived a lot longer than I ever dreamed she would when I decided to fill this role 14 years ago, but life is always surprising and that’s a good thing. If I had known I was in for this long haul, I probably wouldn’t have consented to take it on, and that would have been a mistake. I mostly don’t pay much attention now when she tells me what she thinks I should do, but every once and a while I’m 6 years old again and want to make everything okay for her so that I can be okay.

Wednesday was that kind of a day. She talked me into doing something that turned out to be a very bad decision, and I was lucky to return to my 64 year old self in time to un-make it.

On Wednesday, I made an appointment for Clare, one of my cats, to be euthanized today at noon.

She’s been having some trouble lately, behaving unlike the sweet little girl we have known, and it was upsetting mom. She had told me several times in the last couple of months that she thought Clare was miserable and that I should have her “put to sleep,” (stupid euphemism for killing an animal, which I’ve never liked) and I very clearly told her every time that her behavior was admittedly annoying, but that in no way is she miserable, and that I had no intention of killing her for being annoying. She is not ill, and for the most part she is just fine, though I will admit, her personality has changed and she is no longer the cat I’ve known for 15 years all the time anymore, but different is not “bad.” She is not miserable. She is not suffering. There is no reason to even be considering euthanasia at this time.

Wednesday when I got home, however, mom was miserable. She was very upset about Clare that morning, and I was overwhelmed with other things that are going on, and I just wanted life to be easier. In that moment, I called the mobile vet and made the appointment.

Yesterday, I came to my senses and changed the appointment into a check-up to see if there’s something we can do to support Clare as she ages. I had a long talk with mom about dealing with the behavior that she finds so objectionable, and made it clear that it was her problem, not mine, or Clare’s, to solve. She agreed. I made the argument that she is annoying, too, but that I’m not considering having her killed. We laughed, and all was well in our world again.

She won’t remember our talk, and we’ll have to have the conversation over and over for the rest of Clare’s (or mom’s) life, but my priorities are clear to me again, and this has served as a good reminder of how easily mom can manipulate me, no matter how old I am or how many years of therapy I had. I’m disappointed that I fell into that old conditioned response to a very familiar scenario (Something’s wrong with mom! Oh no! What can I do to fix it/make her happy/make her love me?), but I forgive myself.

All of my selves, including the 6 year old and the 64 year old and all the other ages in between.

So tomorrow we’ll meet the mobile vet (wonderfully convenient) and talk about ways we can help my sweet little girl be more comfortable and happy, and then we will go on with our lives.

All of us. All of our complicated, wonderful lives.

🐈‍⬛

Sunday I left for what I imagined would be a wonderful long bike ride on a sunny and hot northern Michigan afternoon. Two miles in, I rode through a pothole (was not looking at the road) and just like that, the ride was over. Both tires were blown. I changed the tube in the rear and thought I was good to go on, and then I realized the front was a goner, too. I only carry one spare tube, and it was too hot, and by the time I had changed the rear tube, too late, to find the puncture and patch the front tube.

Rats. I was really looking forward to that ride! I admitted defeat and started walking home. So a great ride on a really nice day turned into a pleasant walk on a really nice day. As I was walking I was thinking about my post last week. Did I say something silly like I thought adversity was a good thing? LOL! Yeah, I did, and it’s also Mercury Retrograde (iykyk), so I guess I had to put my theory to the test that day.

I did, and it stood up. I didn’t rail at the universe. I didn’t feel cursed or that it was unfair, nor did I run through any of my other usual “poor little ‘ol me” mental scripts. I simply walked home, in the sunshine, and felt lucky that I was only 2 miles out and not 10 miles out. I also gently reminded myself that it’s important to watch where I’m going. 🤪

Always.

It was not the first time I’d had a flat, and actually, not even the first time I’d had to deal with both tires being punctured. It’s not a common occurrence, thankfully, but it’s always a possibility when traveling along on something as vulnerable as 2 slim pieces of rubber. Cycling is like everything else in life – mostly it’s a lot of fun and very satisfying, and sometimes your ride is cancelled by a flat tire (or two), and you have to deal with something you hadn’t planned on.

I changed the tube in the front on Monday, so all set to go next time. There were lawns to mow, groceries to get, laundry to do, and, interestingly enough, (and sad), wildfires in Canada blowing smoke at us this week, though, so no ride until tomorrow, but that’s okay, too. All that stuff is important. It’s all a part of my life – the chores and the fun – and that is as it should be.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, but the reverse is also true: All play and no work makes Jack insufferable. 😉

Mostly I feel lucky that I’m still able to do all that needs to be done without help, and to be able to ride my bike as I have for the last 35 or so years, without modification. Mercury Retrograde will be over next week, and the smoke will clear, and we will be left with our beautiful Michigan summer, that has turned out to be just the kind of summer I love. I’m so glad the earlier forecasts were wrong. It took a while to get started, but it’s here now, and I’m loving every minute of it.

Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, I hope you’re enjoying every minute, too.

❤️

Summertime and the livin’ is easy. The weather has been beautiful in my little corner of the world the last few days, and I’ve been riding and hanging out in my backyard, enjoying every minute of it. The flowerbeds are full of color, and the bunnies and the birds are very busy. It’s all wonderful, and it has restored me.

In the depths of winter I think about moving somewhere else, but I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Now that I’m older and don’t have to go anywhere if I don’t want to most of the time, I actually like the austerity and interiority of winter, and feel that Spring and then Summer are worth 6 months of cold and snow. Autumn has its charms, too. I value each season and the whole turning wheel of the year.

Nietzsche said “Whatever doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.” That’s become a popular part of our American lexicon, but that’s not really the way I want to think about it. Life is not a contest to see who can suffer the most and survive. It’s not a game show. I have a magnet on my fridge that says, “Dear Whatever Doesn’t Kill Me, I’m strong enough now. Thanks.” LOL! Sometimes I definitely feel that way. I just want everything to go well all of the time.

That’s not how it works, though, and it has taken me a long time to get that through my head. I was sure for most of my young life that I was doing something wrong; that if I could just learn how to do everything perfectly, I would have a beautiful life.

Yeah, no. Not so much.

The Buddhists say, “No lotus without mud.” I would say, no flowers without rain. I don’t think lotuses would grow here, though we do have lovely water lilies on the ponds and some of the inland lakes. So for us, I guess, it’s no water lilies without mud.🪷

I have felt for a long time that I appreciate and enjoy the joyous times more because of the periods of depression I’ve experienced for most of my life. It is the up and down, back and forth nature of the world and this human life that tempers us and helps us grow at the same time. Just as too much sun will kill the flowers, experiencing only happiness and ease would turn us into something less than desirable, too.

Adversity teaches us to call on our creativity to solve problems, and builds resilience, or what Nietzsche called strength, I guess. If everything is just as you want it to be all of the time, how do you cope when something bad happens in your life? Because it will. For sure. Difficult times also build compassion and connection to others experiencing challenges.

In other words, just like rain helps the flowers grow and produce seeds for the next summer, adversity helps us grow and develop skills and resilience to help us throughout our lives.

Granted, it’s still hard to get through those difficult times, and all I ever want is to get past the challenge and back to the good stuff again. That’s where the wisdom of age comes in. I know that everything passes. The sunshine, the rain, the good and the bad. I’ve experienced it many times. Just when I think nothing will change, it does. For better or worse. Change is the very nature of this planet and human life, also.

For now, the sun is shining and it’s warm and colorful, and my life has been going smoothly. That will change at some point, of course. I know that, but I try not to dwell on it. I try to be as present in every moment as I can be; to soak in the sun and the warmth, go for long sweaty bike rides, take it all in.

Thinking of times like this sustains me in the difficult times, and knowing that the good times will always come again, after winter, after the dark times, makes all the difference.

😎

Photo by Kristel Hayes on Unsplash

Write it in your heart that every day is the best day of the year. Live in the sunshine, swim in the sea, breathe the wild air. Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Hot and humid and stormy this week. Not unheard of here, especially around the 4th of July, but not that usual, either. We’ve gone from 60s to upper 80s with wicked humidity in the space of a few days, bringing thunderstorms daily this week with so much rain that there is widespread flooding. Crazy. This is northern Michigan, after all, not Florida. Forecast says back to “normal” by Friday, so we’ll see what that means.

I’m pleased to say the depression has lifted and I’m feeling like myself again. I almost never know specifically what starts it, and I’m never sure what ends it, but I’m grateful to have made it through again. I’m ready to enjoy summer, now that the weather seems more seasonal, or at least it will, starting on Friday. I had a lovely bike ride on Monday, and then it got too hot. I have high hopes for the next couple of weeks. This is my favorite time of year.

I came across the quote by Emerson above in my travels through the internet this week, and it really spoke to me. “Old nonsense,” indeed. I laughed out loud when I read it. I certainly have plenty of old nonsense rattling around in my head. The whole thing really resonated:. Truer words never spoken. Get over yourself and get on with it.

Amen, brother!

What a miracle it is to be alive on this beautiful planet, and to be so lucky as to have enough food, a cozy house, and people and pets to love. What joy is found in watching the flowers bloom in the yard, and to see the bunnies munching on the clover. A delicious dinner with a life-long friend. Music, books, the internet, which connects me to friends near and far. Sleeping in. Chocolate chip scones for breakfast. And how about the World Cup? Or the Olympics a few months ago. All those young people from so many countries competing peacefully in their sport of choice, rather than fighting wars.

Small wonderful things.

All over the place. Every minute of every day. These things keep me going. Grace waking me up in the morning with a gentle nudge, purring, reminding me it’s time for a treat. The look on Clare’s face when she sees me open the canned food I’ve started giving her to help with her digestive issues. I’m sure people in Canada can hear her purring, and the sparkle in her pretty green eyes is as bright as ever again.

A belly laugh from mom in response to Ted Lasso, which we’ve just started watching cuz I got a free offer for AppleTV for a month. Bruce Springsteen or Elton John or Mozart in my earbuds while I’m reading outside. Reading, period. All the books I want to read! All I have enjoyed and all I have learned from them and enjoyed. What a thing to have hours to read now. Retirement is the best thing EVER.

So many things.

Life can be horrible. No doubt. Natural disasters disrupting homes and lives, poverty, homelessness. Mental illness, addiction. Heartbreak. Loss. It’s not easy on this planet for anyone. Easier for some than others, perhaps, in some ways, but still challenging in others. No one gets a free ride.

It all has to be measured against the joy, though. There is a lot of that, too. You know it. The things that bring me joy may not be the things that bring you joy, but most everyone has some measure of happiness somewhere, somehow.

Let go of yesterday. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Enjoy today. It’ll be gone soon enough, no matter what it brings.

Write it on your heart. Today is the best day.

Look for and enjoy all the small wonderful things all around. Look closely. Get past your old nonsense, and the news. Embrace the joys. They’re there, believe me.

All the small wonderful things, all around us, quietly offering themselves every moment of every day. What a world, and what a privilege to be here.

Write it in your heart.

The weather looks like it’s going to get better, and that is something to be celebrated! My little tourist town is filling up and traffic is a problem, and that is not anything to celebrate, as far as I’m concerned, but it is a fact of life here, and I’m probably in the minority with that attitude. Whatever. It’s not worth worrying about.

I irritated my knee doing some yard work a couple of weeks ago, and it’s not getting over it very quickly. Kind of like me in that regard. I can hold a grudge for a while, too. LOL! Less now than when I was younger, though. Few things matter enough to me to get my blood pressure up these days.

So I’m kind of limping around, and waiting for it to get over itself. It will, given time, like everything else. The Spring yard work that caused the problem is finished, and I haven’t felt like riding my bike. My knee reminds me every minute that I’m not as young as I used to be and I’m not in the good shape I was when I was younger. Not even as good as last year, unfortunately.

I’ve struggled with depression most of my life, and these last few months I’ve been struggling again. I know how to get through it, and like my knee, I know I just have to wait it out. This one has been hanging on pretty good since early February, but it too shall pass. It just is what it is, and I’ll get through it.

I have learned in 50 years of down times like these not to blow up my life, even though I may want to, by making a dramatic change that I will regret when it’s over, but it does put my regular habits on hold for a while. Like exercising, or eating properly, or keeping up with things in general. I just don’t care, and I don’t have much energy, so most of the things I do when I’m “normal,” don’t happen when I’m dealing with faulty brain chemistry.

For the most part, no one knows when these times come and go. I’m good at hiding it when I have to, though it takes a lot of energy. I’ve had a lot of practice, and I know no one wants to deal with it, so it’s really the only option. Mostly, no one keeps tabs on me now, so it’s not that hard generally to disappear for a while and wait it out. It was harder when I was working, but now I can go weeks or even months without having contact with anyone, aside from my mother, and I’m a pro at hiding it from her.

I took meds for several years and I’ve had therapy, and both of those things helped a lot. I don’t go through it as often as I did before those interventions, but it still shows up every now and again in the last few years. Too much for too long. That’s it usually. It builds up. The depression was bound to come back sooner or later and as often happens, it held off this time until a period of relative calm.

Whatever.

It comes, it goes. It’s a part of my life. Everyone has something they carry, and as weights in this life go, this one has been manageable, and I’m grateful for that. It has limited my life in several ways as the years have gone on, and I accept that. I take it as a signal that I need rest, and that’s mostly what I do.

Everyone has something. I’ve survived 50 years of depression, and I hope to survive many more, with or without it. If I were a better writer, perhaps I could have gotten rich writing books about it like Jenny Lawson, but that was not my path.

I’m just one person, trying to get along in this life bearing my burdens with grace, like everybody else. It could have been better. It could have been worse. It just is what it is, and I’m still here. Nursing my knee, taking it slow.

It’s all good.

I love summer. I love to be outside. Summer in northern Michigan, however, can be disappointing. The current long-range forecast for this area calls for cooler temps and more rain than “normal.” Thanks El Niño.

In other words, Spring. April. For 3 more months. Ugh. 😒

Not hot, not sunny, mostly. Is it El Niño or climate change? Who knows? Ultimately it doesn’t matter, and it’s always possible “they” are wrong about the forecast. At any rate, it isn’t something I can control, so I just have to make the best of it. After all, it’s better than winter.

The abundance of rainy days and the GLOOM are hard for me, though. It’s summer. I don’t want to be inside. Been there, done that most of the fall and winter months. I can read, or write, art journal or do housework, watch YouTube or TV: what I’ve been doing everyday since November.

What I end up doing most days lately, though, is waste time playing a game, surfing the internet, or simply stuffing cookies in my mouth, feeling sorry for myself.

Is this adult behavior? Of course not. It’s me spitting into the wind and getting it back in my face, stamping my foot and taking my toys and refusing to play anymore because I’m unhappy with the way things are. The weather doesn’t care that I’m not happy. It’s just weathering. I’m the one wasting precious time because I’m disappointed and bored.

I should be rewarded for getting through difficult circumstances in my life, including surviving winter, with a warm and sunny summer. Right?

Mother Nature doesn’t see it that way.

Still, I want what I want. Waaa waaa waaa. This is not who I want to be, not how I want to feel, but here it is: I’m resentful of the weather.

Yikes.

Resentful of a limitation, really, and justice is something I clutch closely to my resentment: It’s not fair that I’m trying so hard to be a good person, to take care of my mom, do the right thing, and that I don’t get what I want in return.

Double yikes!

When I realize I’m making my life transactional, I know I’ve lost my way. This is not the mature, clear-thinking me. This is little girl me disappointed that life is not fair.

Sooner or later I remember…

NOTE TO SELF:

Resentment is a sneaky, back-stabbing liar. It slithers right up close without making a sound, and whispers its siren song seductively in your ear. Because it’s what you want to believe, the lies slip right past your “crap” sensor and are part of the story you tell yourself almost instantly. No editing, no critical review, just “Yeah, that’s how it is.”

So not fair.

It’s a lie. It’s a skewed way of viewing reality. It’s seductive because it makes you a hero. It claims that what you’re experiencing is Unfair! Not your fault! The worst thing that anyone has ever experienced! You, you poor soul, you have been treated horribly unfairly and you deserve so much better! Because you are fabulous and wonderful, and no one should treat you that way.

No doubt that that way is something difficult to deal with. No doubt that you are fabulous and wonderful. No doubt that you may have to mourn something you have lost, or give voice to your anger or disappointment, or heal in some other way. Probably you didn’t deserve it. Probably you were just living in the best way you could, and someone or something came along and treated you without regard for your wishes. Or maybe it was just Life (or the weather), that non-respecter of persons, that dealt you a blow you feel was completely unfair, and you just can’t let go of it. Because:

Why Me? Why, oh, why, poor unsuspecting, trying really hard just to get along, doing the best that I can every day, little ole me?

And there’s Resentment, standing next to you, saying, “Yeah, why you? Not fair, dude. Are you going to just let that go?” Resentment smiles and rubs your back, and hands you a piece of chocolate or a beer, and says, “Don’t worry. I will never leave you. I would never treat you as if you don’t matter. You’re safe with me.”

Except you are sooooo not safe now. You have just given your life away. You now have a lying scumbag in your brain telling you you’re justified in everything you do – being a crappy human being, treating other people horribly, failing to do the things you wanted to do and/or are responsible for, eating/drinking/whatevering too much. Expecting things to be different, thinking that life should happen the way you want it to because…well, you want it to.

Your life gets worse and worse – you’re dying – and yet you keep listening.

Resentment keeps whispering in your ear, “Not your fault. Not fair. You deserve better.” Meanwhile, it’s feasting on your brain, your heart, your lifeblood, getting stronger every minute.

It will eat you alive, believe me.

You have to see Resentment for the lying scumbag it is and send it on its way. Get some counseling, start journaling, meditating, praying – doing whatever you need to do to get over whatever that thing was that allowed you to be duped. Let it go. Forgive, forget. Life is hard. The weather sucks sometimes. People suck sometimes. You suck sometimes. Accept that. Move on. Live in the present, and let go of the past. Bad things happen to good people every minute of every day. There’s absolutely no reason you should be spared. You’re just not that special.

No one is.

Instead of WHY ME, consider WHY NOT ME? Be grateful for the things you have been spared and mourn/heal the things you weren’t. Feel sad for yourself, deal with the pain in whatever healthy way you can and move on. Don’t give Resentment the opportunity to get close enough to whisper its lies. Keep moving. Keep living.

It’s not easy; few things of value in this life are.

It is simple, though. If you don’t do it – if you don’t send Resentment packing – you will miss your life.

Your precious challenging, rain-soaked, beautiful human life.

One morning last week, I woke up to find a dead mouse on the bedroom floor. I have two cats, so not a big mystery as to how he met his end, but surprising, nonetheless.

Grace seemed pretty proud of herself, and not surprised to find the mouse where it lay, so I’m guessing she was the agent of its demise. Clare is a better hunter, but she’s downstairs most of the time, so I’m pretty sure we can chalk this one up to her.

I got a bleach wipe and carefully picked the little guy up, told him I was sorry, and tossed him into the used litter bin. All taken care of, right?

Not so fast.

I felt bad. That little mouse had a life, probably a family (who I hope doesn’t also live in our house), and he didn’t come home that day. Something alive and breathing was now doing neither of those things, and I was indirectly responsible for its untimely dispatch to the netherworld.

Grace is a cat, and it is her nature to hunt and destroy mice, so no blame here, just sadness at the loss of a life.

I go to a lot of trouble to liberate bees and flies and anyone else who manages to sneak into my spaces without harming them. I’m cool with spiders sharing my bathroom and will talk to ants until it’s clear they’re not listening to me, to try to inspire them to leave without incident. If I can catch them (they are SO fast!), I put them outside, too.

Grace and Clare do not share this charitable view of little interlopers, obviously, and they’re just doing what comes naturally when someone enters their space. I try to get to the bugs before they do, and I’m usually successful. I tell them not to come back, obviously, because Look! Cats! They will eat you! Tell your friends!

It doesn’t usually work, although I choose to believe that the next one that comes in is not the one I just shooed out yesterday, and that this new guy is not a friend of yesterday’s guy, so didn’t get the word.

No, I’m not crazy. 🤪

I simply do not in anyway feel that my life is more important than those smaller lives. We all have a role to play here.

I considered having a small funeral/burial for our little rodent friend, but that’s a bit much, even for me. I still feel sad, though, that it happened, I am also not just mildly surprised that I slept through the life and death struggle 3 feet away from me. I did find little intestines on the stairs, however, so it’s possible the actual murder happened elsewhere and Grace brought it in the bedroom so that I could see it and appreciate her handiwork.

Ew.

Psycho Killer, qu’est-ce que c’est?

My sweet little baby, my sweet smoochie bunny girl. A killer. Bringer of death. Grim Reaper. Gracie Mae Oobie-Shooz, the Mouse Destroyer.

It’s finally summer in Michigan. Not hot, but warm, and the last week has been sunny and lovely. The trees have leaves now and the lilacs and Lily of the Valley are blooming. My rose bushes are getting leafy and robust and the irises have buds. I think the hydrangea will survive, and that makes me very happy.

This is a nice time of year here in this small resort town. By the end of the month, traffic in town will be backed up and the tourists and summer residents will be swarming all over town. For now, however, and probably for the next couple of weeks, it’s just a little busier and the weather is delightful.

I haven’t been out on my bike yet, and that’s unusual, but I’ve been busy and it took longer this year for the temps to rise to the level that I find acceptable for riding these days (60+). On most of the best days in the past couple of weeks when I could have gotten out for a ride, I chose instead to rake or mow the lawns. Winter was harsh and there was a lot of Spring clean-up to be done at both houses.

I have been going for long walks on some afternoons, though, and getting reacquainted with the neighborhood I grew up in, as I do every year after the snow covers everything up and I mostly stay indoors for 6 months. I greet the lakes and my favorite trees and check on the woodpecker who lives nearby.

I’m a summer girl. I have a friend who used to call these wonderful sunny, warm days “Wendi-weather,” and nothing could be more true. This is most definitely “it” for me. I like the other seasons, and I like having seasons. I couldn’t live anywhere that was always the same. I relish the outer-ness of summer and the inner-ness of winter. Summer is my favorite, though, hands down, and I’m thrilled to witness its rebirth again this year.

We’re pretty far north, and summer goes by very quickly. I try very hard to be present to as much of it as I can, especially the beauties blooming in my flowerbeds, the butterflies and birds, and the bunnies who have lived here longer than I have, under the big cedar tree in the back yard. I watch for the deer who comes to visit most days when I’m sitting out in the yard under the big blue umbrella. Last year she brought her fawn to meet me and they came together all summer after that.

I’m close to the airport and several times a week I get to watch the skydivers drift down under their colorful parachutes against the bright blue sky. This week I’m watching the kids at the school across the street while I’m at my desk journaling, as they play games outside and run on the track for gym during these last days of school. Their excitement at the prospect of the unencumbered days ahead is palpable.

It’s all becoming visible again – life – and I’m here for all of it. It’s much easier to be present to all of it now that I’m retired, and I’m ever grateful for that. Yes, the town will fill up and I’ll curse the tourists and the traffic more than once in the next 100 days, but it’s all life. Every bit of it. The joy, the frustration, the ups and downs. The blooming and the dying. The inner-ness and the outer-ness. Wishing for something different or “better,” or wasting time being unhappy because the world is not what I want it to be, is simply not the best way to go through life.

Does that mean that I don’t do it? Heavens, no. Just this last week I had a complete and total meltdown for 30 minutes over a kerfuffle with the city over the water meter at mom’s house. I ranted about how unfair it was that I had to deal with that old house, when IT ISN’T EVEN MY HOUSE, and about how inefficient the city is and how expensive it is to live in this town and the exorbitant amount she pays in taxes and blah, blah, blah, blah, BLAH! My 94 year-old mother just nodded and nodded and when I was finally all done, said quietly, “It’ll work out.”

And…of course, she was right. I called the city and we had it straightened out in just a few minutes.

I always seem to have a list of all the things that are “wrong,” or could go wrong in my life, and I spend more time than I should going over that list in great detail, usually in my journal, and sometimes just over and over and over again in the middle of the night after a challenging day. I know immediately that I’m spiraling into the muck when I start using or thinking the word “unfair.”

Nothing is really wrong, (or unfair) of course. It just is what it is. Life. I have a beautiful and fortunate life, with some challenges, like everyone else. I know just how lucky I am.

Unfair and what if are signposts on the road to resentment and unhappiness. Completely useless, too, as I don’t want to go down that road. Really, I don’t. Been there and done that for much of my early life. I want to be on the Loving What Is road, or the Be Here Now street. How about the It’s All Good trail?

I try, and I’m better than I used to be, but I’m not quite there. It’s not an automatic response to everything in my life, and probably never will be. That’s okay. Trying matters. and the only one suffering is me, really. Maybe my mom, who has to listen to the ranting occasionally, but now that she seems to have entered her Yoda years she doesn’t seem to mind.

I don’t think she even listens, and that’s just fine, too. No reason she should. She’s had her share of crap in her life. She doesn’t need to deal with mine, even if occasionally she or her house are the cause of it. That’s not intentional, and all of it is just as out of her control as it is mine.

I had a dream this week about bees–a huge swarm going overhead–and the person with me in the dream said, “Hmmm, a river of bees.” It stuck with me. and I hardly ever remember dreams, so I consulted the internet. Turns out there’s a poem with that title. A relatively famous poem by a relatively famous poet, W. S. Merwin. It’s a long poem, really vivid. Guess what it’s about?

The last lines are:

He was old he is not real nothing is real

Nor the noise of death drawing water

We are the echo of the future

On the door it says what to do to survive

But we were not born to survive

Only to live

I take that to mean: Don’t worry. It’s all good. No one survives this life. Sooner or later none of us will be real. Live while you’re alive, because it’ll all be over soon enough. Time passes and so do we,

Wise man, Merwin. Whitman, too. Happiness now, not later. It’s all good. Enjoy it while you can. Don’t Worry, Be Happy. Remember that song? Kinda sappy, but good advice, just the same.

All of it easier said (or sung) than done, but worth trying for, don’t you think? Especially in summer!