I’ve been playing around with poetry again. Now that I have given my press and type away, I feel the call to be creative in other ways. For years I participated in a writing group, which was, in my mind, a group that focused on “writing to heal.” That’s probably because I had lots of emotional healing to do, and I found that writing my way through it all helped. That wasn’t the group’s only purpose, so we also shared poetry, short stories, even writing snippets– whatever moved us that week.

I am joining the group again (thankful they kept it going all these years), and I am back to reading and writing. This morning, I saw a book mentioned online, Writing From the Heart, and I thought, “looks great!” When I clicked to order it, my kindle notes told me I had already purchased it a few years ago. Of course, I own it. It’s my kind of book!

As I began to re-read it, I was reminded how much I love to write, and how much better I feel once I do. I’ve been journaling every morning, but I want to be more intentional about it. So I’m going to be practicing some memoir/essay type writing here–

To get started, I’ve ordered Nancy Slonim Aronie’s new book: Memoir as Medicine, which will be out at the end of March. In the meantime, I’ve watched this about it and her.

If I think about this, it seems that for my whole life, whenever I need something, the gift appears. A friend, a book, a quote, a reminder….synchronicity.

Recently, I had coffee with a friend. We share interests in health, creativity, and family issues. She arrived and handed me a small book of poems, How to Love the World, Poems of Gratitude and Hope. This was before I had decided to start writing again. Somehow she knew I would love it. (Thanks, Donna!)

Synchronicity.

It reminds me to pay attention. Ask what I need to learn. Be open to the possibilities.

To be courageous is not necessarily to go anywhere or do anything except to make conscious those things we already feel deeply and then to live through the unending vulnerabilities of those consequences. – David Whyte

I have 5 months until I turn 70. Gasp. What is it about that number that gives me pause?

I’ve never been one to think about or worry about age. But this number is the beginning of the decline. Now, I’m not getting depressed or heading into a spiral. But if I’ve learned one thing in the past 15 years, it is to face everything– anxiety, trauma, regret, shame, conflict. Name it. Let it turn around in my brain for a while. And then let it go.

This morning, actually in the middle of the night around 2am, my dog threw up. I woke up to clean it and let her outside, and then I couldn’t go back to sleep. That’s unusual for me these days (since I started taking magnesium and glycine before bed). I felt a slight twinge in my back and I knew I was up for a while, so I headed downstairs to the couch. I first told my brain to relax, that it had nothing to fear, and then I turned on a podcast and the gas stove. The flickering lights calmed me, and I felt myself drifting back to sleep.

This morning, I’m a little tired. But there’s one thing about getting close to 70 that gives me a new perspective. At least I’m not dead yet! I really do want to appreciate waking up every morning to live a life I love, that makes me proud and satisfied.

My anxiety hit me over the head last summer, even sending me to the ER at one point. I knew I had to make some changes. So 5 months of therapy, eating well, and daily journaling has helped. (I tried Lexapro, but it wasn’t for me.)To stay healthy, I’ve become a 90% vegan (LOL), practice pilates on my new reformer, and stretch this body with Over the Hill yoga online. I’ve enjoyed my daily journaling so much, I’m writing poetry again!

I’m going to keep writing here and sending out my newsletter, even though it’s not about letterpress printing. I keep learning, and I love to share what I learn. If you want to unsubscribe, you know where the button is. But this is as much for me as anyone– a way to keep track of things that keep me healthy, both physically and mentally. And it’s also a way to stay connected to the kind and good-hearted people in my life, you!

Onward, friends.

❤️

Turn the sound on and relax….

From The New York Times: It’s OK to grieve the losses…

Releasing stuck emotions

This movie and her write up about it….

Yale professor Dr. Laurie Santos has studied the science of happiness and found that many of us do the exact opposite of what will truly make our lives better. Love her podcast

Poetry therapy

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.

“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