We are approaching the solstice and morning light arrives later and evening darkness sooner. Normally I dislike the increased darkness and cold but since I’ve joined my husband walking our dog I have a new perspective. I appreciate how the cold wakes me up, its crispness bringing clarity to the day. I zip up my new light down jacket, put on my hat and gloves and meet the day prepared... and appreciate that I have warm clothes and am mobile. When the wind blows I raise my hood, draw it tight around my hat and trundle along feeling warm and toasty. The cold engages all my senses, the feel of the body moving, eyes purveying changes in the landscape, the trees now bare showing off their shape and silhouetted against the sky, the ground, colors changing from green to brown, workmen blowing the last of the leaves away, our dog finding something interesting to sniff and the wreathes decorating some of the houses we pass. Our walk is more brisk but the friendliness of neighbors we meet continues to be warm.
It surprises me that I am welcoming winter. I experience it now as a time to go within, reflect and burrow down. Rather than see the trees as barren and dead, I now trust they are resting and saving their energy and will burst forth again when conditions favor growth. My body/mind/heart takes note of the trees and the cycle of life. My pace is slower but I like to think I am appreciating more. Moments of quiet are to savor. I take less for granted. I appreciate the gift of body that is still able to walk uphill and down, our 13 year old dog wagging his tail and begging for a treat –and able to eat it. I savor walking with my spouse and am more appreciative of his companionship. A close friend lost her partner, another has a husband with terminal cancer. All of us are subject to aging, illness, loss and death. Now that I am in my eighth decade there is a new immediacy to endings and beginnings and how to use the time that is here.
There are practical considerations. This means facing the truth of changing bodies and minds. How to prepare for the winter of our lives is a puzzle with many pieces big and small. Much is unknown and there are no guaranteed solutions but the questions must be recognized. I don’t run up and down the stairs like I used to. I make sure to hold on to the railing. Do we stay in our house that I love which has stairs and requires attention? Should we downsize, move to a continuing care facility? Do this now, later? What is this moment telling us? I am honoring the questions and the many different answers my mind produces none perfect or for sure. Most involve letting go and letting be—acceptance.
What do I know? This moment really is a precious one-the only one. Relationships are treasures. Health a gift. This Thursday, December 9 at 11 AM, EST we are meeting again to explore what it means to age with wisdom. Bring your questions. I promise no answers but a deep respect for our joint questioning—what gives meaning and is important to keep close - and to let go.
IN BLACKWATER WOODS by Mary Oliver
Look, the trees
Are turning
Their own bodies
Into pillars
Of light,
Are giving off the rich
Fragrance of cinnamon
And fulfillment,
The long tapers
Of cattails
Are bursting and floating away over
The blue shoulders
Of the ponds,
And every pond,
No matter what its
Name is
Nameless now.
Every year
Everything I have ever learned
In my lifetime
Leads back to this: the fires
And the black river of loss
Whose other side
Is salvation,
Whose meaning
None of us will ever know.
To live in this world
You must be able
To do three things:
To love what is mortal;
To hold it
Against your bones knowing
Your own life depends on it;
And, when the time comes to let it go,
To let it go.