Tag Archives: Pain

Legs

I am a limper.  I limp more than most people.  In my younger days I was always spraining an ankle.  High school football marked the start of my knee adventures when I partially tore my anterior cruciate ligament.  I was born with chondromalacia, meaning my kneecaps are somewhat askew, leading to arthritis at a relatively young age.  I had arthroscopic surgery on my right knee in my late 40s.    

In the meantime, I hiked, hunted, backpacked, played killer volleyball in the Army, and climbed over twenty fourteeners, mountains over 14,000 feet elevation.  I always experienced some pain during all that, but I just kept on truckin’.   

Sunshine and Redcloud Peaks

It all changed when I climbed Sunshine and Redcloud Peaks in the San Juan mountains.  It started as a fine day in country mostly new to me.  A great climb, with a lot of time sharing  the alpine tundra with the resident Pika.  It started clouding up as we dropped down from Sunshine on the way to Redcloud.  On the summit of Redcloud we were in a whiteout with horizontal snow.  We got scared when I took my hat off and my hair stood on end, what there was of it.

We headed down as fast as we could, having experienced lightning above timberline before.  People die that way.  We moved straight down, sort of loping down a scree field.  By the time we reached timberline I was hobbling, both knees screaming.  That was the end of my climbing and backpacking days.  I did climb Quandary Peak some years later, but I was climbing with people twenty years older than me and it is an easy climb for a fourteener.  

As a substitute I bought a motorcycle.  I had ridden in my younger years, but got away from motorcycles.  I have always sought out activities I have no business engaging in. I was repeating a risky activity beyond my ability.    

Posterior Cruciate Ligament

My first ride into the mountains was up Golden Gate Canyon, one of the many canyons carved down the face of the Colorado Front Range.  The canyons are all winding, scenic, and steep, making for great motorcycle rides.  There are hazards.  Wildlife, crazy drivers, bad weather, and debris on the road.  I went down sliding on some sand . My right knee hit the road, my tibia and fibula stopped, but my femur continued long enough to tear my posterior cruciate.  Ow, Ow, Ow.  After things healed a bit I kept riding and crashing without too much damage.  

One day at work I was walking along and SNAP, my ACL finally gave up.  The MCL was also gone so the only things holding my leg together was skin and muscle.  I now have a titanium knee. It works fine.  My left knee is not so good.  Most of the cartilage is gone and arthritis has set in.    

I get injections in my knee from time to time, and they help.  Some.  Mostly I live with some pain, cycling from mild to hobbling.  I will get another knee replacement some day.  I fall down.  I always have have to some degree, lacking much coordination.  Now it is worse as my balance is increasingly rocky.  I fall off ladders, down stairs, and even on level ground.    

On one of my trips down the stairs I bruised my left hip.  I figured it would heal, not being broken but no luck.  It’s sore, a lot, but aspirin and BenGay are helping.  The orthopedist I have gotten to know pretty well says there is arthritis and not much cartilage there.  She looked at me and suggested a hip and knee replacement.  Well, maybe someday.  

I look at these health issues as teachers.  Stuff doesn’t work well, it gets plugged up, it doesn’t want to flow, and it hurts. It is all likely to get worse.  My job is to adapt.  Life involves change.  It involves pain.  It is endlessly rewarding.  The pain may be limiting, but it does not necessarily lead to suffering.  After all, I can still look at car crashes in Russia on You Tube and make up lies for you to read.

Lovingkindness

We seem to be living in a world seething with hate.  It is always there, but currently it is more visible.  Our president wants adulation and to punish those who oppose him.  Everyone has a part of themselves who wants to do harm, usually because harm was done to them.  There is another way.

We are born with a need to be loved, to be fed, cuddled, protected, and allowed to grow.  A baby receiving those things responds with smiles, giggles, and joy.  The caregiver experiences joy as well.  The response to abuse is to withdraw and develop defenses for survival.  The capacity for love and joy can be lost.  We are all wounded to some degree and the result is conflict.

The response to love and nurturing is a desire to love and nurture in response.  We are born that way.  The word for it is lovingkindness.  All the anger and resentment is learned, a response to abuse.

My task is to increase lovingkindness and equanimity and allow the negativity to wither.  My techniques are Insight Meditation and Metta.  Metta is the practice of holding all living beings in prayer or lovingkindness.  “May all sentient beings be happy, may they be safe, may they be free.”  “May Mr. Trump be safe, may he be happy, may he be free and practice lovingkindness in his life.”   “May the driver who just gave me the finger be happy, safe, and free.”  I actually do this.  Not always, I still harbor old wounds, but my Metta practice is growing.

I feel better, am less angry, and don’t honk or give the other driver the finger nearly as much.  Buddha came up with this 2500 years ago, even though he didn’t drive, and those who practice lovingkindness are a powerful force for good which often goes unrecognized.  All the faith traditions encourage this in some way.  Yes, there are happy and loving people out there.

So, what about all those with anger and hate?  It’s our task to show them lovingkindness, as simple as smiling and allowing them to make that left turn.  We also deal directly with the negativity by listening and showing respect, gently offering a more caring viewpoint.  We help those in need, always with dignity and respect.  When angry, we breathe in, breathe out, pause, rinse and repeat.

I guess I am something of a Buddhist, but Jesus is still in my life, and always will.  A bit about Buddhism.  It has all the trappings of an Eastern faith tradition.  Saffron robes, chants, meditation, stupas and gilded  Buddhas, with one big difference.  Buddhism is nontheistic.  No worshipping some Big Guy.  The sole purpose is to end suffering.  Most often greed, or desire, is the root of suffering.  We can be in terrible pain but suffering is optional.

We decide we need something.  We make that up.  All we need is food, clothing, and shelter.  All the rest comes from craving, wanting to fill a hole that can’t be filled that way.  We might feel a bit better, but the desire always returned.    What to do? Let go. Meditate.  Practice lovingkindness.  Do lots of Metta.  Maybe I will get better at all that.

Unexpected Happiness

Most people assume happiness comes from material things, especially in our consumer culture.  Not so, folks.  Happiness comes not from craving but from compassion and loving kindness.  I am an expert on craving.  Currently, my main craving is for ice cream.  I think about ice cream, I long for it.  I score!  I eat ice cream and have a fleeting feel good.  Then it starts all over.  I am suffering desiring the temporary fix that creamy, sweet, fatty stuff provides.

There are two main results.  I feel that discontent of no ice cream, eat ice cream, feel contented for an hour or so, than resume craving.  I am also getting fat.

There is another way.  Do good and feel good.  The good feeling doesn’t go away.  We are wired to help one another.  It comes from feeling compassion for someone who is suffering.  We then act out of loving kindness. The person suffering feels better and so do we.  They are feelings that don’t go away.

Many philosophers and economists say we operate on the pleasure principle.  Most of them assume pleasure results from satisfying craving.   The marketers exploit the craving and tell us happiness comes from the right beer, or car, or toothpaste.  In fact, they are exploiting suffering.

For the first part of my life I operated on that false pleasure principle.  I wanted stuff, temporary sensual gratification, alcohol, and ice cream.  I was something of a melancholy, trying to fill a void in my soul.  I then met the love of my life.  I was happy with her and looked forward to sharing satisfying cravings with her.  Food, stuff (lots of stuff), the mountains, the desert, canoeing, road trips, all those fleeting pleasures.

It turned out the love of my life is sick.  She has lupus, and can’t do many of the things I thought were the main goals of my life.  We can’t do road trips, she can’t be in the sun very long, she doesn’t have much energy, and she hurts.  All those fantasies exploded.

One of the benefits for me in meeting the love of my life is my commitment to her.   For better or for worse.  I cook.  I clean.  I do the heavy work of gardening, including maintaining that blasted sprinkling system.  I do Jin Shin Jyutsu(Japanese acupressure) three times a week I do shopping.  I lift, carry, move, assemble, and help in any way I can.  I scratch her back, we snuggle, we talk, laugh, and get cranky with one another.

Her family members have more trouble than they deserve.  I drove to Minneapolis to help her brother when his leg was broken by an errant automobile.  He has no support system there, so I went and helped out.  Her parents got old and infirm.  We visited Florida and North Carolina to help out.  We had lots of trips to Florida.  Her dad moved here when he could no longer handle the tasks of daily living.  Her mother moved to Boise to be with Carol’s sister and we visited there.  I also act as support for Carol’s two children, especially her son.

Blue Earth

All that seems like drudgery, inconvenience, and suffering.  Not so.  It is fulfilling.  I like to help, even if it means hundreds of miles of corn and soybeans on the way to Minneapolis.  Have you ever seen the blue earth clay west of Mankato (means blue earth) or the Nebraska sand hills?  Have you gotten lost on foot in downtown Minneapolis?  If not, you have really missed out.  The whole thing feels good.  Well, there is some inconvenience as well, but it is mostly happiness.   May you find happiness in helping others.

Treating Pain

My life has changed because of two stories I heard on NPR.  Remember the classic study of the rat in a cage with two water bottles, one with an opioid, the other plain water.  The rat always chose the drugged water?  Well, another researcher duplicated the study but instead of a bare cage, it was rat friendly.  Places to explore, to dig, to run around, and interact with other rats.  The rats ignored the drug laced water, going for plain water.

The other story is about the Vietnam heroin problem.   About 20% of the GIs there used heroine.  It turned into a major problem.  When those heroin users came home, 95%of them quit heroin without treatment.  The reason for the heroin use in both cases was the desire of the subjects to feel good in a bad situation.  Would you want to be a lone rat in a barren cage?  A soldier in the Vietnam war?

Heroin

Those stories reminded me of what a guy said in a twelve step meeting.  “I want to get my feel good.”   People turn to addicting substances or behaviors in order to feel better.  Lots of people out here don’t feel good for a multitude of reasons.  They turn to food, compulsive exercise, drugs,, internet gaming, gambling, sex, or booze.  It’s the pleasure-pain principle.

When I was fifteen I started drinking.  My buddies and I stole hubcaps for the thrill.  I climbed rocks and canyon walls for excitement.  I always wanted to go just a bit faster or jump higher on my motorcycle.  I smoked three packs of cigarettes a day to stave off the craving.  Anything to feel good or not feel bad.

My early years were troubled.  I had undiagnosed ADD which tended to lead me into trouble.  I was a somewhat lonely only child.  In adolescence I was not a good athlete, had bad acne, and was afraid of girls.  I also had a history of abuse.  I turned to alcohol and risky behavior.  Later, I bought marijuana by the quarter pound.

A tremendous amount of my awareness is consumed by craving, staving craving off, indulging the craving, or obsessing about craving.  I think it’s called addiction.  Addiction has ruled my life to some degree since puberty.  I know I am not alone.  I have been in therapy for years, take my ADD medication, doing 12 step work again, and do lots of prayer and insight meditation.  Slowly it is working.

I will always be an addict.  What is saving me is spirituality.  After a lifetime of searching I have found what works for me.  It is Buddhism with Jesus at the center.  In Buddhism, emptiness-letting go of the thinking self-is the way to the emptiness and true consciousness of being.  For me it is asking Jesus to take the craving and suffering.  2000 years ago he offered to take all our suffering and leave us whole.  I take him up on the offer many times every day.  It works.

Jesus was a man.  He died, but for some reason his spirit lives in me.  I can turn to his spirit to take my pain and leave me whole.  This has always worked for me since I learned about it, but I have often walked away.  Addiction is cunning, baffling, powerful.  It takes lots of work to stay on the path.  (All these biblical references keep coming up).  I had a profound spiritual experience based on turning my life over to Jesus.  I have often walked away from him, but he is there when I come back.

The Buddhist way is taking refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma (Buddha’s teachings), and the Sangha (the spiritual community.  For me it is taking refuge in Jesus, the gospel and the dharma, and the faith community.  It gains strength every Day.  I have to avoid getting tangled up in doctrine.  It’s about letting go and giving it to Jesus.

“Lord Jesus Christ, son of God.  Have mercy on me, a sinner”.  My prayer.

Aftermath

 

The Infamous Stairs

Falling down the stairs two weeks ago has turned out to be a life changing event.  I knew I was getting old, after all the URL you used to get here is DOFBILL, for Doddering Old Fart.  I have been using it for several years.  But, friends, this last excursion down the stairs hurt.  It still hurts.  I started physical therapy again for balance work.  I haven’t been able to get motivated for doing anything.  Getting here to the coffee shop to write took until noon today.  I am usually here by 9:00 AM.  All I want to do is lay in bed and watch U Tube videos.

I did manage to work with the painters the other day.  Our new stretch of fence looks good.  However, I dropped the tote tray full of painting tools and they all spilled.  They are still on the floor.  I talked to to Carol about all this, and she wisely figured out what is going on with me.

I am in mourning.  I guess I should have figured it out by myself, but I was too numb.  I retired in 2011, I sold the motorcycle.  I knew I was more and more limited physically, but this fall brought it all home.  At 74 years, I am old.

This was reinforced yesterday when I went for my three year endoscopy/colostomy.  I got chewed out by the doctor for not following the rules.  No caffein, no chocolate (!), no booze (I had already quit a year and a half ago), no spicy food, on and on.  I told Carol if I can’t have spicy Mexican food, life isn’t worth living.  What a stupid remark, as she not-so-gently pointed out.

I have limitations, have had them for years.  I just had never gotten to the acceptance phase.  Bouncing down the stairs feet first brought it all home.  In John Mellencamp’s Jack and Diane, he sings “Oh,yeah, life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone”.  That line has had residency in my head for two weeks.

Well, the thrill is not gone.  Some of the thrills, however, are gone.  No mountain climbing.  No motorcycling.  No more solo four wheeling trips where I could stay stuck for a week before anyone came along.  I have to let go of risky stuff.  The odds have changed.  I am an old man.

After mourning comes acceptance.  I am in that process now.  The sages say the task of elders is looking inward.  I am doing Insight Meditation for that reason.  My meditations do take me inward, but much of the time I am thinking about outer stuff.  In fact the best inner work I do is at the keyboard.  A good writing session sets the stage for good meditations.

Not all the outer world things have to go.  I can still get into nature.  The sunrise is still there.  The Japanese Beetle season is about over.  I still have a life.  So, what’s the big deal already?  There is my sense of humor, and it is intact.  Part of me knows it is all right.  If I can still make bad puns and turn phrases upside down I still love life.  Carol would probably be happier if I had a more conventional sense of humor.

I haven’t mentioned the most important thing in my life.  The people.  Starting with Carol, my soul mate and the everlasting love of my life.  All we do, all we are, and those morning cuddles.    Her children, who have become my children as well.  All our friends.  The poignancy of losing friends.  The memories.  Yes I can let go and still live fully.

Getting Older

Really Old

I am 74.  I retired in 2011 at age 68 when I started noticing I wasn’t as sharp in responding to problems.  I also noticed my co-workers giving me the easier jobs when on a project,I was used to wading right in, sometimes literally.  It was a water plant, after all.

Now, other things have manifested. If it doesn’t hurt, it itches. I have arthritis and allergies.  My balance problems keep me off the third step of the ladder.  I was falling off.  I fell on the stairs, broke two ribs.  I gave up motorcycling, given my desire to stay alive (Just go to motorcycle crashes on YouTube.).

People are dying.  Yes, they have  doing it all my life, but now it’s old friends, classmates, a guy I was Best Man for.  Not people I viewed as Old People, but my contemporaries.  Does that mean I am an Old Person?  Yep.  Old people see their friends dying.  You can also tell if you are old by falling down in a public place.  People laugh if you are young.  You are old if they rush over to help.

Then there is CRS.  I have always had a poor memory, but this is getting ridiculous.  When I hear someone’s name on meeting them I tell them I will forget it.  I head downstairs to get something, do two or three things I see need doing, and go up without I went after.  Also, people my age tend to be terrified when they start forgetting.  Is it Alzheimer’s?  Am I going to be a drooling vegetable?  I try to stick to my rule about not worrying about things I have no control over, but it doesn’t always work.

A good thing: after my ADD diagnosis at age 59 with the therapy and medication I have more focus.  I can even manage to focus on stuff I don’t like to do.  I used to put off paying bills until my anxiety level forces me to sit down.  Now, I can plan the time and actually follow the plan some of the time.  I can write.  I don’t have to go to work.  I just spend my four pensions and watch our investments slowly diminish.

Writing is a good thing for an old dude to do.  I can do it most any time, usually mornings.  I go to a coffee shop where I am something of a regular and do some extroverting along with the writing.  I always wanted to write, but could not maintain the focus to write for myself.  With a deadline, the anxiety level activated my prefrontal cortex enough to allow me to get the words down.  In college I wrote papers for Forestry majors and the like for $10.00 per page (long time ago).

Now I write for myself.  I almost always write nonfiction, like most of my reading.  As you can see from this website, I have a wide range of interests.  That’s  probably a function of an ADD shifting his attention all the time.  I need to know.  They say ADD’s occupy an evolutionary niche because their shifting attention enabled them to spot those brutes from the neighboring tribe or the saber-toothed tiger.  Sentinels.  Of course, we are also smart and charming.  Someone has to keep the place stirred up.

I have written a little fiction, some very short stories and a longer short story when taking a class at the Lighthouse Writers Workshop here in Denver.   Good people there, students and faculty.  Naturally, some English majors, more interesting than engineers, although impoverished.

For me fiction is hard work. You have to create the world of the story and invent the characters.  Good fiction also uses lots of metaphor.  I am not very good in that area, mostly because it takes lots of practice.  I usually write about shifting tectonic plates; not so much need for metaphor there.

I have taken to reading novels aloud to Carol just before bedtime.  She likes mysteries written by women, she calls them novels of manners.  Much of their focus is on character development and scene setting, so they are a good light reading genre.  The reading is fostering an interest in fiction again.  Can I produce a story about geologists?  Maybe a story about 19th Century naturalists and biblical literalists.  Have I mentioned I like history?

I will have to work on producing pieces longer than 550 words, however. I can do the short essays in one coffee shop session.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Winter Blues

Winter

As I sit here in the coffee shop it is a gray January day with a light rain falling, promising to turn to snow.  This is an accurate metaphor for my mood of late.  I’m prone to depression, get treatment for it, but this is probably Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD).  I haven’t been able to do much writing, and what I have written I haven’t posted.  This is unusual. My goal is to put something up every week and I haven’t come close.   

I used to have two of those lights which are supposed to help, but I gave one away and the other is over the bathtub I haven’t been able to use lately.  Why no baths?  Leaks.  The upstairs bathroom sink cold water faucet started leaking as well. 

For me, things happening around me are often related to the state of my psyche.  Water is also a symbol of the unconscious mind, and leaks are about something important trying to come to consciousness.  I am engaged in a struggle to keep things buried.  Thus, leaks I am slow in fixing, and gloom leading to inaction.  It’s easy to guess how my meditation practice is going.  

My meditations are supposed to have the goal of being totally in the moment-no thinking about the pas, the future, or Donald Trump.  I can stay with just observing my breath for maybe five seconds.  I usually am able to stay with my breath or a prayer for several minutes before drifting off to be with Dorothy and Toto.  I come back to the breath, stay there a while and drift off again.  Currently, I obsess.   

I think the real issue for me is aging.  I am 74 years old. Lifting a fifty pound sack of ice melt salt is hard.  I used to throw fifty pound sacks around.  I cannot go above the second step on the ladder for fear of falling off.  I sometimes cheat and go to the third step, no higher.  My balance is not very good.  I have stayed at the same weight for some time but the muscles are shrinking and the belly is growing.   

I forget stuff.  I have always been somewhat forgetful, an ADD-ADHD symptom, but it’s worse lately.  I am going to have to go back to writing reminders down, a habit I have slipped away from.  I also head downstairs to do something, do two or three other things and head upstairs with the task not done. At least I get some exercise going up and down the stairs all day.

I know this too will pass, but I am tired of waiting

 

 

The Hurt, The Itch, and The Joke

It’s raining today, which means it is time for miscellany.  I always have a few short ideas rattling around in my head, and these days writing about them is the best way to get them out of there.  First, the itch. 

For years now, if it doesn’t hurt, it itches.  I have arthritis in several places and it bothers me from time to time.  Currently it is my left knee and my left wrist.  The knee hurts and is weak for the first few steps when I get out of the chair.  I get shots in the knee from time to time, usually good for six months or so.  I am left handed and the wrist is intermittently a real pain, usually when gardening.  I notice that my left hand is weaker than the other one (I won’t say right.)  as I am the official opener and fixer around the house, this is not good.   

Itch

Itch

The itch is the biggie.  I itch every morning until the Allegra kicks in, and every evening until the Benadryl kicks in.  I don’t know what the allergen is, and it is year around.  The worst spots are on my back over my kidneys.  Right now, the inside of my forearm and calf are itching.  The itch doesn’t drive me nuts, I was already there.   

I tried the allergy specialist with no luck.  The only things that help are the antihistamines.  There is a possibility the allergen is one of the medications I take.  Next time I see my doctor I will talk to her about doing an allergy elimination protocol.  I won’t do it myself, I take that stuff for a reason.  I don’t want to have a stroke while tracking the source of the itch. 

I didn’t itch when I was younger.  I even felt a bit smug when others complained about their allergies.  Maybe the whole thing is karma.   

cuironNrgb

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now, the joke, my favorite of all time.  I see a person wearing a college t-shirt or sweatshirt and ask them if they know why graduates of the school’s big rival keep a copy of their diploma on the dash of their car.  They do it so they can park in the handicapped spot.  Here in Denver it is usually Colorado-Nebraska or Denver University-Colorado College.  Nebraska, of course, is the most appropriate.  That N on their football player’s helmets stands for nowledge.  Most Coloradoans know that joke, but it is fun to see the reaction when in Nebraska. 

I have used it for schools all over the country.  Michigan-Ohio State, Purdue-Indiana, Notre Dame-Penn State, Duke-North Carolina, Auburn-Alabama, USC-UCLA, and especially Texas-Texas A&M, as Aggies are right in there with Nebraska.  I have told this to dozens of people, and only one didn’t like the joke.

Declining and Arising

The Quarter Moon

The Quarter Moon

A few years ago Carol, my wife, her sister Judi, and I wrote a blog about caregiving for aging parents.  The aging parents are gone and so is the blog, but one piece I wrote sticks with me.  Watching the decline.  I wrote the piece about Frank, Carol’s and Judi’s dad who went into a serious decline in his ’90s.   

Frank is gone, so now I am watching my own decline.  I had it come home to me when I forgot where I parked the car in downtown Minneapolis and spent three hours searching for the damn thing. By the time I found it I was tired, relieved, and a bit ashamed.  Not finding the car has always been a problem for me, a function of my ADD.  I keep a little yellow ball on the radio antenna of my pickup so I can see it in the parking lot.  Losing the car for three hours is a new one, however.  Yes, I have a GPS in my cell phone. 

Losing the car is only one symptom.  My knee, wrist, shoulder, and back hurt.  I fall down.  I can’t remember names.  Carol and I make a plan every week, and I forget what I am supposed to do.  I go downstairs to get something, do three other things and end up back upstairs without what I went for.  Three times. 

I will be 74 in October.  What do I have left?  Ten, maybe fifteen years?  Aging is reality for me.  Usually I take these things in stride.  After all what is important is the moment, which is almost always pretty good.  The trip to Minneapolis threw me into something of a funk.  I got scared when I couldn’t find the car.  I went to help my brother-in-law, who is facing some aging issues as well.  I still haven’t recovered from the trip. 

My life is good.  We have a nice home and garden, good things to do, travel some, and have fun together.  I can write, which I was unable to do until the last few years after getting diagnosed and treated for ADD.  I have gone places and done things.  I can ( http://www.insightmeditation.org/ )meditate which I could not do for most of my life.  I have found an important role as family caregiver. Caregiving is especially meaningful because it didn’t exist in my family. 

The meditation has opened up a spiritual life I have sought since I first asked “Why?”.  I now  know the answer: Because.  The secret to because is becoming.  The sun is up every morning.  The birds sing, even if I have trouble hearing them.  The new in my life outweighs the difficulties.      Most of the time.  I get myself in trouble when I stare at that unknowable wall out there.  If I stay where I belong, here and now, I’m fine.  Events, however, sometimes present that wall-my brief time on this world and in this body.  I’ll get through it.  Writing this has already helped.

Changes

Equanimity2I retired five years ago.  I waited until I was 68 to pile up some more retirement benefits.  I also waited because I was scared of retiring.  When I retired I took two part time jobs which soon went to one.  I felt like I had to work.  That lasted four years.  Now, I am truly retired.  (Funny thing, I wrote tired instead of retired.).  

Another reason I retired from my career in water treatment was noticing I just was not as sharp as I used to be.  I have always been fairly sharp, except for the ADD brain lapses I have always lived with.  The lapses were more frequent.  One of my part time jobs required constant focus.  Not good.  The other one was working with elementary school kids, and meant unremitting joy.  I gave that job up because I didn’t want to work so many hours, and my bad back was complaining. 

Now my back still complains, but I can pace myself more and take a time out if I need to.  Right now it’s my upper back hurting after yoga and shoveling a pickup load of wood chips.  Today I am going for a walk where it is flat. 

About those lapses.  All older people complain about them.  The other day I made four trips to the basement to get something and never did come up with it.  Yesterday I was in the grocery store and upset because I forgot the list.  When I got home without some things on the list I found it in my pocket.   

Well, there is a reason for this.  As we age, our brains tend to shift from the executive function-running things- to inner processes.  It is certainly true for me.  I want to write, read, meditate, and enjoy happy entertainment.  There is a huge obstacle right now.  Politics.   

Prayer

Prayer

It’s hard to hold on to my equanimity these days.  Usually I deal with negativity by praying for the people creating the mood.  I have even prayed for Newt Gingrich.  I have yet to be able to pray for His Yellowness.  Praying for people doesn’t necessarily change them, although sometimes it does, but it does change me.  The changes I experience make me more able to live with myself.  I am even less of a jackass on the road. 

I have more peace.  My body doesn’t work as well as it used to, but I think my mind may be getting to a place where I can actually experience the inner connectedness of all life.  I can find joy in anyone.  Well, most everyone.  I also have trouble feeling connected with the Japanese Beetles who want to eat stuff in our garden.  I can’t go above the second step on the ladder because I tend to fall off.  Some of the evil critters get away because I can’t get high enough. 

On balance, aging isn’t so bad.  I have lived a life of constant stress from trying to be normal when I am not.  Now, I get to embrace being weird and getting weirder, and love life.  Mostly. 

I will know I am really on the right track when I can pray for THEM.

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