#Reverb 14, Day 29

Day in the life: Describe a typical day-in-the-life.  Give us details!  Give us pictures!  Sometimes our days can seem boring.  Is that okay?  What do you do to make your days feel a bit special?

 Oh, how retirement changes day-to-day life!

Tony almost always gets up before I do. I snuggle back down in the covers and snooze, awakening usually between 8 and 8:30 (unless I didn't sleep well, in which case it could be an hour later). Sweats and slippers on. Flip on lights on the plant shelf (where my angels sit); open great room blinds,  and I'm ready for a cup of tea (sometimes decaf coffee). Teabag in the tall St. Elizabeth Hospital cup, cup under the Keurig dispenser (hot water). Sit in my green leather chair with my iPad. McMurphy leaps to the arm of the chair, his butt barely missing the cup of hot tea, and into my lap, where he insists on snuggling, stretching out long paws to push away the iPad. I comply. Sort of, anyway, holding the iPad at an awkward angle so I can cuddle the cat too.

Tony is in the office and comes into the kitchen anywhere from 15 to 30 minutes later, always coming over to my chair, leaning down, and giving me a kiss or three. (*lucky girl* aren't I) And then he goes to the kitchen to fix breakfast -- alternating cereal (hot or cold, depending on the season) or eggs. (ditto that *lucky girl* thing)

"It's ready," he'll say. I put down the iPad and come to the table, where I dispense vitamins, we enjoy breakfast and bird watching since he's already replenished the feeders tjhat hang outside the sliding door by the table. We clear the dishes; then sit back down and read aloud, taking turns with each book, from the two books we've chosen for the year's morning readings. 

From there, depending on what's on the calendar for that day, I may go back to my chair with a second cup and browse through email and Facebook and blogs for another hour. Or I may go back to the bathroom, pausing to make the bed, and get showered and ready for what's on the agenda.

{{{Day goes along -- maybe a trip to town, to an appointment, to lunch -- maybe a movie together or a day trip or errands or grocery store. Maybe some laundry. Or cleaning. Or writing. Or reading. Lunch happens, usually together, unless I've got a lunch date. Or we decide to combine errands and lunch. Or I bring home a sandwich. We will be adding regular exercise to this timeline in 2015, either at home or at the gym. }}

Around 5 p.m., the TV news usually goes on and I begin puttering in the kitchen in preparation for supper. We generally eat between 6:30 and 7, sometimes lingering for half an hour if we're deep into a conversation. I clear the table, he does the dishes, I feed the cats, and we're ready for an evening of TV -- unless I still need to do the daily email I write to a small group of family and friends (a bit of nothing much -- what I did, what's going on with the weather, maybe a commentary about the state of life or something newsworthy, and a quotation that either reflects how I'm feeling or is something I think one of the recipients should hear), which takes maybe 20 minutes. 

We are such creatures of habit. We record a number of TV series and movies, and most always have a discussion that goes something like: "What do you feel like?" "I dunno. What do you want to watch?" "Oh, I could be up for most anything." (or, alternatively, "I don't feel much like a movie...I want something light and fluffy....I dunno.") Eventually we either take turns narrowing the choices ("Uh, Person of Interest, Agents of Shield, or Divergent.") or I just click on something (I nearly always am the mighty ruler of the TV control.)

Unless it is a movie, we do that again in the hour it takes to watch a series. I know. It's SO co-dependent. We know it too.

The exceptions are when we have both Showtime and HBO favorite Sunday night series to choose from, and we know we'll get to at least two of them, so it rarely makes a difference which we do first. And  Scandal and How to Get Away with Murder, in that order, don't need conversation to choose either. 

News at 10, and it's off. Tony goes back to the office for a last bit of computering; I usually play a game or two on the iPad, and then I'm off to get ready for bed and reading my Kindle. He'll come in, both cats leading the way, in half an hour, snuggle down, and is usually asleep quickly. I read for maybe an hour, and then it's lights out for me too, and hopefully to sleep (perchance to dream....)

Boring?
I suppose it could seem that way. It doesn't feel boring, however.

We prefer to think of our days as drama-free. We like our little routines and rituals, and even when we're traveling in Sallie Forth (our travel trailer), we follow pretty much this process.

I like waking to the same routine every day. It puts a structure, a beginning that is predictable and comforting, to another lovely day. 

Every day that we are together and feeling good, every day that allows us to control what we do and when we do it is a special day. We don't need excitement and drama and lots of socialization to feel satisfied and happy with our days, and neither of us needs to be entertained or kept busy, since we are both exceptionally self-directed with our activities and interests. If there is a downside to this, it is that we ARE such compatible creatures and enjoy our routines, and sometimes need to shake things up a bit, to change what we are doing to promote better, healthier habits. 

Life is so good, folks. We are so, so blessed. 

 

 

#Reverb14, Day 11

1. What tiny rituals: signal that your day is starting; help you ease into a creative project; give you closure from an intensive task; or mark other significant milestones in your day? What new rituals would you like to create in the new year?

2.  Small Pleasures: What small pleasures did you discover this year?

Ritual becomes even more important in the aging process -- the little things, the order in which you accomplish routine tasks, the way you structure your day. You can call it routines or daily chores or whatever you want, but it takes the form of ritual. 

Wikipedia says "A ritual 'is a sequence of activities involving gestures, words, and objects, performed in a sequestered place, and performed according to set sequence.'" 

Disrupt our rituals, and it can discombobulate everything. I understand that much better nowadays, although we are still young enough not to go off into anxiety attacks about it. But it used to happen frequently with my mother in her later years, and I didn't quite get it then. 

Our beautiful mornings nearly always begin with Tony rising before I do.. He has his own morning rituals. When I get up, I open the blinds in bedroom and living room on the way to the kitchen where I put hot water into a mug along with an Irish Breakfast teabag (occasionally varying that with a cup of decaf coffee or a decaf Earl Grey), and then sit in my big green leather chair with my iPad and tea for 20-30 minutes, usually with McMurphy in my lap, loving on me. Tony fixes breakfast  -- eggs or cereal or oatmeal -- and we do our daily readings from two books we choose every year. And then the day begins to vary, depending on who's doing what.

I love that routine, that ritual. We do much the same when we travel in Sallie, our travel trailer. It is a buffer for me between the warmth of the bed and a dream world, and the necessities of the day. Once we close the books on the last reading, I'm ready to face the rest of the day. 

I would like to create a ritual around exercising in the new year, an almost automatic action of climbing on the bike and pedaling for half an hour. I don't do that consistently and I neeeeeeeed it. I also want my Tuesday and Thursday mornings to include yoga class again, where I get up from the breakfast table, shower and change into yoga clothing, and head out. I always feel so much better -- and so totally virtuous -- when I intentionally do something that helps my strength and stamina. 

I have always loved ritual, whether in the form of family tradition or more formal church ritual, and have written several to observe seasonal change, leavings and arrivings, and to celebrate friendships. I think even our little every day rituals bring some comfort and continuity to our lives and help us celebrate those moments.

2. Funny little prompt here -- small pleasures. 

One of the first that instantly came to mind is my little Pampered Chef microwave pots. I bought these during an RV show early in the year, but the first time I used them, in June, I loved them! They are covered saucepans that will easily hold and heat soup or casseroles, and for an RV trip, they are perfect -- lighter weight than Pyrex and more easily gripped. It was a silly little glow of pleasure, but I am so glad I have them.

Another little pleasure I discovered this year is the Kindle Paperwhite, the backlit e-reader. It goes easily into a purse, holds a charge for a long time, and I can read in the dark without disturbing my honey or anyone else. Although I still and always love the feel of a paper book, I have become a big fan of the Kindle, especially when paired with Kindle Unlimited -- another little pleasure of this year -- because I don't have to keep the book or store them -- and I have shelves and shelves of books. That's growing more important to me as I try to recycle or give away things that no longer suit me, and that includes some of my extensive library. 

While I found it several years ago now, the Thermos Hydration bottle is without a doubt the BEST water bottle ever. It stays cold, even icy, in temperatures exceeding 105, and doesn't sweat. We use them constantly and they always go with us when we are in the car. Every time I flip it open, I am grateful for this little treasure and the cold drink it offers. A small pleasure is sometimes the very best kind.

 

Purification and renewal for this weekend

Today and tomorrow are, for many, the beginnings of spring. February 1 or 2 are celebrated as the Feast Day of St. Brigid, who, according to various sources, was the attempt to christianize the goddess Brigid.

Brigid traditionally is associated with home and hearth but also with wisdom, poetry, craftsmanship, and healing.

It also is Candlemas, the day midway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, and traditionally associated with cleansing, renewal, and, of course, candles. But first Candlemas was known as Imbolc, associated with the flowing of ewe's milk for new lambs -- the awakening of the world for spring.

If you've noticed, the light is coming back: days are lengthening quite visibly. In just over a month, on March 9, we begin daylight savings time again -- spring forward. The dark is over for this winter.

My friend Lunaea gives directions for making your own Brigid's Cross. She says, "The cross represents the cross-quarter days of the wheel of the year and the sun and the balance of energies and elements, and many other fine things. For me, it also represents movement, progress, and radiant strength, all good things to affirm as the light returns to bless the land."

I've got a fire in the woodstove and will light candles tonight as I honor these days both pagan and Christian, and reflect on creating, purifying, and renewal.

May light shine in your life.

Shine on, harvest moon

Last night was the full harvest moon, coming on the heels of Sunday's autumnal equinox. It is a magical time, a time of change and harvest, of reaping what you have sown over the year, and it also is a preparation for the long dormant winter.

My little group -- Cowgirls, we call ourselves, after the game Cowgirls Ride the Trail of Truth -- has been meeting about twice a month for nearly three years now to share our lives, to celebrate relationship and friendships, to provide support to each other. Our ages are very diverse: I'm not really quite sure how we were drawn together initially, other than we shared a love of the arts. Certainly our life experiences are wildly different, which makes for interesting stories.

And we share a spirituality that is rooted in Christianity -- we all have church-going histories--but has evolved into an undefined, unrefined mixture of Buddhism, Neopaganism, New Thought, and probably involving elements of several other practices. I don't know that WE know, exactly.

But last night we celebrated the equinox with a harvest feast, with candles, with prayers, and then created our own harvest cornucopias with a variety of locally-grown fruits and veggies. I'd gathered a small basket of acorns from our trees, and after holding them and reflecting on the great promise that each small seed holds, we exchanged harvest wishes for each other, using the acorns as the symbol of growth and promise.

And we celebrated Lady Moon, out here where ambient light is so much fainter than in town and the full moon seems so much larger, so much brighter. It was the perfect evening to do so, too, with temperatures still at shirt-sleeve comfort, no clouds, no sounds but crickets and tree frogs or whatever variety of wild thing makes those oddly comforting humming thrumming sounds.

It was a celebration reminding us of the divine feminine, of the energy of the earth and the cycles of life. It was mostly silent, although I'd written some ceremony adapted from a variety of traditions, and altered it further as we went through it -- but it was meaningful and rich and made me feel very blessed to have these women as my heart friends, to share my home with deer and turkeys and other animals -- including a very affectionate kitten who insisted on visiting the laps of two women who are not particularly enamored of cats (how very catlike!).

I am grateful for change that allows new growth and new possibilities. I am grateful for new beginnings and for second chances. I am grateful most of all for love that surrounds and enriches everything in my life today. Thanks be.

The longest day

..of the year is today, the Summer solstice. It's the longest day of the year, also the shortest night. It is a time for celebration, for the ripeness of the earth and warmth of the sun, for the life and bounty it brings.

Author Kim Antieau has a lovely blessing for the solstice that I'll share with some friends tonight; gratitude, affirmation, healing, blessing, giving.

More than 20 years ago I spent Midsummer in Sweden. Everywhere we went were maypoles, decked with ribbons and flowers for dancing. Everywhere we went was green -- sprigs of green leaves, branches of trees, bunches of flowers and grasses. Every boat in the water had its green boughs lashed to the front. Every house sported wreaths or boughs on the doors. The city was pretty much shut down because everyone had left for their country retreats for Midsummer.

It is dark there in the winter -- the sun comes up in the late morning and goes down in the early afternoon. The Swedes who are in cities live in an economy of space -- small apartments, little houses, and clean design.

And nearly every one of them has a retreat somewhere in the country. Boats are popular -- there is so much water! They love the green, the sunshine, the return of the warmth and light, and they celebrate it long, loudly, and heartily, dancing and drinking and singing.

This is the heart of summer, today and these next few days. Little by little, days will begin to shorten and head toward the darkness and cold of winter. It's a cycle, as is all of life, and it goes 'round in a wheel, a continous circle of cycles of lightness and dark, of life and death, of rebirth and aging.

This is a day to mark the cycle and honor the Great Wheel as it turns; to honor the seasons and cycles in our own lives; to re-evaluate and heal. Thanks be. Blessed be.

Shared ritual binds us

I dreamed of my mother last night and trying to feed her, nourish her. There was plenty of food,and somehow we ended up with two turkeys in the oven. She was very fragile, and didn't quite understand what I was trying to do. I'm not really sure, either, except that was going to be a lot of turkey.

I miss her.

I miss being in Springfield for Christmas, going shopping there for last minute gifts, waiting for everyone to get there, bringing my mother a Clementine and some Jule Kage that I'd brought from home.

I miss the rituals we'd established there, and those we'd carried over from another life.

We're creating new ones, I understand that, but creating anything is hard work, especially in the beginning. Last year, the first without Mother, was hard, but in some ways this one feels harder, a little sadder.

Author Robert Fulghum wrote about ritual, especially family rituals. As we acknowledge the events, the losses, the beginnings in our life through ritual, we also honor the spiritual in them and in ourselves.

When we have wild rice and bacon and Jule Kage for breakfast on Christmas morning, we are continuing a ritual from my childhood when we'd visit Duluth. Many of my cousins also fix wild rice. It connects us in honoring those traditions and our grandparents and parents.

There are cookies and candies that I always bake at Christmas, from recipes my mother printed by hand into a notebook of her favorites. She is there in the kitchen with me when I stir flour, butter, and pecans together for Daddy's (and Tony's) favorite, Pecan Shorts.

We all have rituals around family, especially at holidays -- things we always eat, stories we always tell, songs we always sing, fights we always have.... Ritual connects us, binds us together. It honors our dead and celebrates our living.

Our family won't be here this year -- but I know what my brother and my daughter will be eating for breakfast on Christmas. I know there will be certain cookies in their homes, and that they'll hang stockings knitted by my mother nearly 30 years ago. And in those shared rituals, we will be together.