I have finally given away all my letterpress equipment.

People have asked why, but I don’t have a good answer. As I near 70, I had random thoughts of how David would deal with all of it if something happened to me. I also realized I was not as excited about getting out all the necessary accessories- ink, mineral spirits, type, paper, etc–to begin the process. And it was always messing up my kitchen.

So now I have order. My kitchen is clean and my second bedroom where I stored type and business supplies is once more a bedroom. We’ve set up bunkbeds for the grandchildren and a corner for me to sit and ponder: What’s Next?

I know I need to be creative. Write? Paint? Do calligraphy? Create handmade cards? Knit?

For now, I am going to simply sit.

The last few months have meant self care and mindfulness as I’ve worked through health issues. I am almost finished, aside from one last appointment. With nothing serious on the horizon, I’ve worked on inner issues– food, rest, and therapy.

And I’m planning a trip back to that beautiful place pictured above, my childhood home I’ve inherited. It’s not on the water, but close. I can hear ocean waves when I fall asleep. My breathing changes when I’m there. I call on the ancestors for guidance.

I am working on revising a poem I wrote about it:

100 Years

I stumble on the sharp stone, my bare feet
unaccustomed to the pain of the gravel-filled road.
No summer feet yet, so I brace for another sting. The briny air,
glimpses of sailboats and farther off the sea.
I am drawn toward the dock and the rock, a massive testament
to weather and coastline. We’ve scratched our names on it,  
climbed it, hidden behind it. And now I am here-staring across the water, 
inhaling familiar smells. I think of learning to swim, missing a boyfriend,
chasing children, pushing a father in a wheelchair.

There’s nothing we can do, the doctors said. And I came here.

This place expects me, holds me, as I drift along a whispering shore, floating with the seagulls.

“You need to know that lovely places exist and you can go there, when things go wrong, and it’s a place of solace.”
― Charlotte Eriksson

We overcooked the turkey. We served old green beans. The potatoes were cold. The cranberry was too tart. The bed we put together seemed like it might collapse. I was exhausted.

But I think I did better this year. Because I kept saying, “so what.” And I was able to laugh though most of it. In years past, my anxiety would get the best of me. I started to feel a little heart racing yesterday, but I was able to calm myself down pretty quickly.

We had a great time with the Morgan grandbabies in their matching PJ’s. The game on the porch with the Baltimore Graces was such fun! And today the Charlottesville Graces arrive for another meal that may or may not be cooked well.

I really don’t enjoy cooking. My kids know that. My husband knows that. I don’t know why I keep trying except I have this vision in my head of some perfect Christmas with a perfect meal and perfect gifts. What I am realizing is that imperfect is just fine.

In fact, next year we are going with frozen lasagna or pizza. Because it’s the games, the hugs, and the laughs that matter. Memories. It’s unfortunate that some things take so long to learn. But I am still learning and that’s what counts.

Perfection doesn’t exist. And it doesn’t matter.

“You don’t pass or fail at being a person, dear.” ― Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

Most of my years of blogging have been about starts, stops, and beginning again. (Here and here.)

This fall has been no different. I am finally coming out of months of not feeling well. After so many appointments and tests, which are not quite finished, I have realized how much my emotions play a role in my health.

For 15 years, I’ve carried guilt, shame, and anger. I’m not going to go into details here, but I’ve realized how toxic it can be. So now I am practicing some self-care- again. Daily journaling helps. Meditation helps. And hearing others’ stories on various podcasts helps.

Baby steps.

Lately, I’ve been feeling much better. But I’m not going to fool myself into thinking all is well. Here is what I wrote ten years ago about the same topic! Life is complicated. Emotions are complicated. Humans are complicated. There will be darkness, and there will be light.

And I will be ok.

“Maybe you have to know the darkness before you can appreciate the light.” – Madeline L’Engle

This fall I decided to make many appointments. I wanted to try to resolve some health issues I was having.

I wasn’t experiencing anything major- a little dizziness, a few headaches in the morning, a sore tooth. Anyway, each appointment meant a followup. And so on and so on.

When I was close to finishing the appointments (finding nothing huge, by the way), I fell. Yup, right on my knee. And it’s taken me three weeks to not limp! I was determined not to make another appointment, so I’ve babied it, iced it, and basically not slept well.

My exercise plan was shot since I couldn’t really do pilates or power walking. So this morning, I am beginning again. Because at my age, any break in the routine sends me backward. I’ll be gentle with myself today so I don’t re-injure the knee. But I need to stretch and move before I become frozen.

Just when I thought I was getting back into shape, I am starting over.

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What I am reading/listening to:

Curable App (A different approach to your pain)

The podcast that goes along with Curable: Tell Me About Your Pain

Faith After Doubt by Brian McLaren because, well, there’s lots of doubt.

Make it Maya Such a sweet, funny young woman who shows easy vegan recipes. I’d be a vegan just because of her videos!

Update: My fun and kind-hearted pilates instructor reaffirmed to me this morning my leg pain is probably a tendon and will just take time to heal. Nevertheless, it was good to move.

I am drawn to sunrises and sunsets. I’m sure that’s because I find them calming.

Lately, I’ve been listening to a podcast on Curable. Dr. Allan Abbass, spoke about how trauma creates pathways to various kinds of anxiety, even trauma that’s barely remembered.

My husband sent me an article from The Washington Post (he’s such a good support in helping me figure out what’s going on in my body –IBS and morning headaches). The article reminded me I had downloaded the Curable app, but I’d never really used it. I was motivated enough this time to binge on several podcasts today and to sign up!

From the article:

The view that chronic pain originates in the brain — that it’s fundamentally a psychological phenomenon, and can be eliminated by altering thoughts, beliefs and feelings rather than by changing something in the body or flooding it with chemicals — has long been controversial and is still largely dismissed as New Age hooey or offensive victim-blaming. But what started out as a hunch by health-care practitioners on the fringe is finally being proved true by science. It’s increasingly clear that chronic pain is often “neuroplastic” — generated by the brain in a misbegotten effort to protect us from danger. And that’s good news, because what the brain learns, we are discovering, it can unlearn. (The Washington Post)

At this point, I am willing to try anything. The comments following the article show people’s fear and lack of understanding. But if I’ve tried everything else, what could hurt? Anything to keep calm and heal.

The mind/body connection is fascinating.