Making our time count

I just read a beautiful poem by Brazilian poet, novelist, essayist and musicologist Mario de Andrade, and I want to share a couple of lines. They are worth hearing and pondering, in my humble opinion.

Andrade says, "I counted my years and realized that I have less time to live by than I have lived so far. ...I have no time for endless meetings where the statutes, rules, procedures and internal regulations are discussed, knowing that nothing will be done. ... I want to surround myself with people who know how to touch the hearts of those whom hard strokes of life have learned to grow with sweet touches of the soul."

There are many good lines in between those two. If you want the entire poem, do a Google search for "My Soul Has a Hat." It definitely is worth a read.

This is about making whatever days remain to us quality days, not just filling them up with fluff. What a great reminder!

Stages & ages

Today my second oldest granddaughter turns 18. I love hanging out with her (and with each of my grandchildren). Several of them are teens already. And I'm so aware that each stage of their lives has been precious and such a joy. I loved when they were small, and I could snuggle them and read to them. Then when they were toddlers, it was fun to see how their personalities developed. Soon they were old enough to go with me, one-on-one, for day-long "grandma days" and overnight visits. What fun we have had with those times. Now that several are teens, we can discuss all manner of topics and talk adult-to-adult. I treasure each stage.

It isn't only children who go through life stages. We do, too. At my age now, I think about all the stages of my life thus far—and I reflect on what's ahead. I want to stay alive and vibrant, savoring my days and not focusing on the negative parts of aging. I have heard people say they wish they could go back to their 20s or 30s before body limitations and some forgetfulness set in. But we'd give up other things at the same time—all the wisdom we've gained through life experiences, both good and bad, for example.

One of my favorite books these days is The Gift of Years: Growing Older Gracefully by Joan Chittister. With chapter titles that represent qualities such as agelessness, loneliness, forgiveness, limitations, success and wisdom, Chittister calls us to see the blessings of aging even while being honest and real about its burdens. This book is such a positive one; and when I need inspiration about the aging process, it's one to which I turn regularly.

How do you feel about your aging process?

Give thought to what's ahead

If you're over 50 years of age, you're nearing the point where there are more years behind you than ahead of you. Since I'm well over 50, I'm fully aware of this fact. And it's okay.

Sometimes when I say this to others, they think I'm being morbid. I don't see it that way. It's realistic. And I actually see it as healthy and hopeful to be aware of this—and to think about what it means. What it means to me is that I don't want to lose time doing things that are meaningless to me. I don't want to waste time holding grudges and not speaking to someone I love. I want to be conscious about my choices.

I want to make good choices so that time will be as happy as it can be—and so the legacy I leave behind for my children, grandchildren and others I love will also be a happy one. I want to make choices about how my time is spent rather than simply sleepwalking through life. I want to live my life as authentically as I can, as true to myself as possible. It's really more than a simple bucket list. It's about how I live out this last stage: Do I want to see my glass half-full or half-empty? Do I want to live in gratitude? Or do I want to get agitated over every little thing that isn't how I think it should be? Do I want to let go and forgive? Or do I want to keep carrying old baggage? You get the idea.

Do you know what you want for your next life stage?

Fears about living & dying

I saw the movie "Still Alice" the other night. I have heard that thanks to this movie and the book on which it's based, Alzheimer's Disease is finally getting some attention—and perhaps some funding for research and maybe even cures. That's a good thing.

This movie also can heighten our fears about the aging process, about dying, even about living. Fears aren't a bad thing, however. They can help us explore and grow. They can help us learn more about ourselves and about life. (That doesn't mean you need to see the movie, of course!)

I invite you to consider a couple questions today. I intend to reflect on them myself. What do you fear about dying? What do you fear about living?

Perhaps another question would be: What do you fear about aging?

I don't always deal well with such questions because it touches into my vulnerability—and for me, that's still a growing edge. But I want to get more in touch with that flip side of the strength coin because I think it's important for me to do so. Perhaps you already do well with being vulnerable. If not, please join me on this journey of discovery.

Nature's lessons

Granted, many trees (at least where I live) no longer have many of their leaves. Lots of those leaves provide a blanket for the grass instead. But those that remain on trees are more muted shades of orange and gold now—more rust than orange, more shades of brown than gold. To me, however, they're still lovely.

I used to enjoy only the brightest shades of fall color. And I really still do enjoy fall colors at their peak. I am filled with wonder and delight at those bright colors, especially when the sunlight washes over them until they almost glow.

But now I enjoy the colors of late autumn, too. Is it because I am in life's autumn myself, I wonder? It might be. At last, I am able to appreciate each of life's stages and recognize that there's a beauty in each stage. I love the innocence and curiosity of the very young. I enjoy the confidence and brashness of teens and young adults. I'm enthralled by the energy and seeking of those just new to careers, parenting and mortgage acquisition. I am thrilled by the integration of values and experience I see in mature adults. And I soak up the wisdom and non-attachment of those who have lived many more years than I. Now I value and appreciate it all. I see the beauty in each stage. Perhaps that's why I can enjoy those stages in nature as well.

I want to be ever more open to what lessons I can learn in the stage I'm now experiencing—to what life brings to me now. Perhaps nature is one way I can better enter into the openness and possibilities being offered to me. Do you experience lessons through nature, too?