Thoughts at the end of 2015

I don't do New Year's resolutions. A year is too much to contemplate. When one is just about over, as 2015 is, I do like to look back and see where I need to improve.

My health is good and I ran, walked and exercised my way to 1,193.17 miles thus far in 2015.

I sailed my boat over 90 days and viewed the time spent on her as sacred, a chance to reset my mind and meditate.

I bought a horse who is the most wonderful creature I can imagine. I became a re-rider after years of not riding. It was a learning experience in many ways.

I made new friends, kept my expectations low and was glad that I did. Many of my new friends awakened in me activism that has become part of my life again after too many years.

I grieved the loss of several close friends and much loved pets. I keep their memory close.

I read reviling diatribes and insults that made me wonder about humanity. I saw so much tragedy in the news that my heart ached.

I continued on my path to recovery in Al-Anon through service, meetings and writing here.  Although the latter has become less frequent, I know that writing down my thoughts and reading yours has helped me.

I am not sure what 2016 will bring. But I am going to do my part to stay the course, make things a little better for others and be mindful of love and compassion as I go about each day.

Wishing you peace in 2016.

What makes sense

As I have mentioned before, I live on an island that is rural. No stop lights and only a couple of juke joints/stores.  But I live close enough to the city and suburbia to feel connected to what goes on.  The recent killing of an unarmed man by a police man made national headlines and has created a lot of discussion locally.

I am glad that the actions by the mayor and police chief were swift and averted riots and other civil unrest.  But the basic fact that lethal force was used is chilling.  I am no fan of the police.  I respect that they have a job to do, but I have seen too much of their abuse of power in my life.  I have not been arrested. I have been stopped once for an expired inspection sticker, so I have nothing of a personal nature that generates the fear. But I have images in my head from TV coverage of the Vietnam war protests of the 60's and the brutality of the police during desegregation marches.  Large men with guns and clubs and an attitude don't make me feel comfortable.

I know how tense racial relations are in the deep South and in this state particularly.  The island that I live on is 80% black.  And I feel comfortable with that because I know many of the families, and they are good people.  I wonder at their fear and anxiety. Is it similar to mine? A lot of racial tension is still here. We do our best to cover it up and pretend otherwise. Politeness abounds at the surface.  But racism remains like a scab over a deep rotting wound.  The only thing that makes sense to me is the sound of the waves breaking on the beach; the sound of the frogs in the wetland near the house; the breath of my horse as he nuzzles me; the concert of birdsong that exploded as the sun rose over the ocean; and the love for others bending and drowning out everything else.

Peace and love on a dreary day

It's another rainy day--one among many this month.  The ground and fields are so saturated that large chasms have been cut on the dirt lane from sheet flow of water that gushes over the cross drains and ditches.

All of the pastures have standing water.  It's colic season for horses because the temperatures are fluctuating between the low 40's to nearly 70 F tomorrow.  My horse's hoof abscess is long healed, and he is healthy and apparently happy. Sadly, his stablemate had to be put down due to severe cellulitis.  The loss of this beautiful animal has had all of us out of sorts, sad and concerned.  His owner has taken this very hard.  I doubt if she will get over this any time soon, if ever.  I am reminded that these large animals who have such power are really such fragile creatures.

When I ventured out in the yard this morning, I saw a few signs of Spring.  Some brave daffodils are blooming, as are the forsythia and camellias.

But most of the beautifully landscaped yard is brown and the plants look forlorn. I know that soon enough budding and regrowth will occur.  But today I am staying close to the fire and warmth of the house.  I had wanted to get to the garden to put in some more seeds.  With the rain pouring down, it seems unlikely that will happen today.

Tomorrow C. and I are going to a concert.  This is the first one in a long time.  I am sure that there will be a lot of middle aged folks like us there.  The band is Pink Floyd Experience.  We both wish that we had seen the original Floyd back in the day but since that didn't happen, we are going to see this tribute band that is supposed to be quite good.

I have some particularly interesting memories of rock concerts.  Some were fairly tame while others such as a particularly raucous one at American University in DC, were drug and drunk fests.  I was too young for Woodstock but this had to be a microcosm of what happened there.  Aside from smoking some weed on occasion, I wasn't into drugs or alcohol.  A young woman standing next to me, freaked out on acid, had to be carried out.

I wonder what happened to all those hippies.  Are they still going to rock concerts? Are they old addicts/alcoholics or working on Wall Street?  Do they still care about peace and love? A lot of idealism was part of our culture then.  I prefer that to the blatant hatred that seems to be the overriding sentiment among so many today.

Anyway,  time for me to get back to reading and maybe taking a nap.  I think watching the fire is going to be a good way to spend this dreary afternoon.

Not just one day

I am doing my best to be happy in this time when there are so many things going wrong with the world. Little kids and teachers are killed by terrorists.  The police and citizens are killing each other. And it all seems that the world has gone madder than usual lately.

In the midst of it, I escape to the barn and to ride my horse. He is adjusting well, and his closeness and nuzzling of my hair and chest fill me with love.  It is a simple uncomplicated love here.  Not much asked of each other except respect and good manners.

I hear at meetings the sadness of those who are struggling with family and the expectations of Christmas.  It is another day, albeit one that has lost meaning in its commercialization. For me, every day needs to be about caring and kindness, compassion and empathy.  Not just one day. Every day.

I am at a loss to understand the amount of dysfunction in the world. I cannot change the hearts of madmen and murderers.  I watch the garden growing and see the dogs playing. I hug and hold my beloved close at night. I go to the boat to have a night alone and listen to the waves slap the hull.  And I whisper to my horse and feed him carrots, knowing that I will be with him to the end.

My thoughts are with those who are sick and suffering today.  I wish that I could touch you and hold you and whisper that all will be okay.  And that what isn't okay today may be righted for you tomorrow. I hope so, and send that thought out to the universe and a world in chaos.  Not just one day, but every day I wish you peace.

PS: I just learned that dear Kathleen over at Sittin on a Porch died this morning. Her last post was beautiful.  You can read it here. And then this quote on her page:

Everyone dies. I died. Someone let the air out of my balloon. I'm free. Don't focus on the left over carcass of a deflated balloon. Open up a window. Blow up a balloon. Life/death. It's just a breath away. ~Susan Hunt

I am not in·val·id

I am home from my journey. And I must say that the celebration of life far exceeded any that I could have imagined. There were many people there, some I knew but had not seen for decades and some that I had not met before.  Each person that I talked with had fond memories of my cousin.  I heard from them that he was a good neighbor, friend, golf partner, party guy back in the day, and highly regarded within his profession.

His wife did a fantastic job of having old photos scattered about.  And the memory book in which each person wrote of their remembrances of my cousin was touching.

But the reading of a letter to all of us by his wife was the most profound. She read about what their life had been like and that he wanted us to know that he was not an invalid nor was he in·val·id in any way during his illness.  And his words: "And so--I was not and am not an invalid. No one has to be. Invalid is an illusion. If you ever find yourself labelled as such, try to invalidate the judgment and seize the opportunity to discover your personal light to help heal every particle and cell on this planet. Start with granting yourself Forgiveness, Peace, and Unconditional Love: these qualities lead to physical and spiritual healing."

So I am glad that I went. I am glad that I shared laughter in memories of him. I feel as if the afternoon was filled with goodness--good people, good times, good food, good memories.

I will keep remembering his words that I am not in·val·id.  I will call that up when I feel small and cast aside in some ways. No I am not in·val·id.

I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you. ~Walt Whitman

A Backup Plan

I am on my way to Virginia and will soon be back in my home state. Tomorrow is the celebration of my cousin's life. I am not sure how things will go, but I am glad to know that I can leave if necessary. I talked to his wife last night and she had been drinking. So if things get going too much tomorrow with the booze, I am prepared to drive away. 

I have learned over the years of dealing with alcoholism that having a backup plan is really essential in taking care of my self. I used to be caught unaware and endured endless drunken parties because my wife and I drove together. She would want to stay for more drinking, and I would comply, only to be miserable. Nothing good comes from hanging around when people get out of control with their drinking. So I know that I don't have to stay.

Tomorrow is going to be difficult for his wife. She misses him incredibly and was crying on the phone last night. She wants me to take a lot of family items back with me, such as the family bible and his mother's antique dolls. She kept saying "I have to get rid of this stuff from his family." My family revered antiques and family history. That reverence was passed on to me. I will gladly be the caretaker for these remnants of a family that has died out, except for me. And eventually all that has been passed to me will go to an antique auction or to the historical society in my home town. 

So my plan is to show up and be of help where I can. I feel compassion for the living who miss their loved ones. I am glad that she feels his spirit around her. I have felt that same feeling with recent deaths. And then, their spirit moves on when I have accepted their death and feel at peace. I am hoping for that acceptance and peace in the days ahead for her.