Sunday, August 24, 2014

Who Would Have Thought?

I have purchased an I Phone. A steep tech learning curve for me. So far I can do about four things on it: call, email and take pictures and send them. Does that count as four things? Could be that taking pictures and emailing them is only one thing, but I am grabbing credit wherever I can.

While using this tool, I have made a shocking discovery: something that astonishes me. It turns out that I have fat fingers. I cannot seem to hit only one letter at a time on that tiny keyboard. I am working on this. Watch this space.

A friend showed me one technique, which I totally love and even understand. If you click two times rapidly the screen shows you pictures of all the Apps that you have used recently and one by one, with the barest upward slide of a gentle finger you can make that App page disappear. Off each one goes, rising into cyber space not to be seen again unless you summon it forth. You know this already, right?

But I want to make a point here. And that is, that effortlessly sliding away that App that you are finished with is similar to Zen Buddhist practice. The practice goes like this: I’ve had that thought or done that particular thing and whoosh, I am letting it go. I do not cling to it; it is in the past. Now I am free, available in the present moment and open to whatever is next. Just like with the Apps on the I Phone, if old stuff and old thoughts hang around in my head, they will surely drain my battery.

Clear it. Release and refresh: all very Zen. A great life practice. Who would have thought the I Phone could be such a helpful  Zen teacher?

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Check out Unleash Potential, offering personal growth groups in Fairfield on the first Thursday of the month. Caroline J. Temple and Lisa Jacoby are the compassionate leaders of Unleash Potential and my companions on this journey of reflection and self-discovery. Click here for more: http://www.unleashpotential.us/events/

Monday, August 18, 2014

Just Like A Beagle

”A body in motion tends to stay in motion.” The Celebrex commercial says it all. I’m no doctor so I wouldn’t presume to comment on Celebrex itself—actually I pray that I never have to take it—but the ad is spot on. (Now that I am thinking about it, one of the reasons to stay in motion might well be so that you would never have to go near Celebrex.) But I digress.

Esther Tuttle, aged 99, and one of the centenarians quoted by the New York Times in Secrets of the Centenarians, October, 2010, says, “I think the secret of a long life is partly genes, but I also think it’s being conscious of your body. Your body is your instrument,” Tuttle tells us, “so I always did a lot of Yoga, stretching exercises and walking.”

Way to go, Esther!

People tend to think that those who exercise regularly love it and therefore it is easy for them. Not so. Not by a long shot.

It’s true that I love to walk. But not always. When it’s rainy or windy and cold or when I have to fly out of bed to beat the heat of the day, I often feel like: Oh, well. Just skip it. So I bribe myself. I pop a hard candy into my mouth as I head out the door, or I clutch a few roasted almonds in my fist and, making them last as long as I can, I eat them on the way.

I also have walks of various lengths, so on a bad-weather day, or when I’m feeling droopy, I tell myself, I’ll just take the shorter one, the one with the slow upgrade but no steep hills. It’s amazing how, once I get going I am willing to go further than I had planned.

When it’s really cold, thoughts of a cup of tea and maybe a cookie when I get home help me to kick up the pace. My son’s beagle always gets a treat at the end of every one of her walks. Why shouldn’t I? My philosophy of exercise is: do it any way that works for you. Just do it!

Best of all inducements is to have a walking partner, which I did for several years. Off we would go in whatever weather. In winter, our faces smeared with Vaseline, we chatted as we stretched our fleece-clad legs up hills. I was bereft when she moved away and I was back to walking on my own. Nonetheless, walking prevails.


Lightening can strike anyone at any time, it’s true, but we don’t have to be rods for that lightening. So get out there and be a body in motion and if you already are, perhaps you would be kind enough to share with readers what gets you going each day.


Esther Tuttle tells us, “It’s great to be 99 and well.” Wouldn’t we all love that?

Monday, August 11, 2014

Sometimes In Life

Sometimes in life there is a storm coming and there isn't a thing you can do except marvel at its force and batten down the hatches.





Sometimes in life if you keep altering your perspective, watching and waiting, this is what you will find.  (Can you see that rainbow?)






 Sometimes in life we are like pale pink roses, striving toward the sun and powering our way through tough, tangled  privet.






Sometimes in life, wherever we are, we need to just kick back and enjoy the view.







Monday, August 4, 2014

A Walk To The Cove

I am in Nantucket, a beautiful island off the east coast of Massachusetts. An island of whaling history, filled now with summer people, of which, my friend Margaret and I are two of the “first-time” crop.


We are slowly discovering the island: its charms, its traffic congestion, its lovely beaches, its serene ponds and marshes and where to buy the freshest fish for supper.

I still have a loss-of-village-life in-England hangover, a slight hold-back that I can’t quite shake, but the salty breeze and the sand beneath my feet as I walk along the beach, and the gentle sway of masts in Nantucket harbor are helping to assuage my homesickness for England.

The cottage we have rented is cute and accommodating with a central living space, a good kitchen and our two bedrooms with bathrooms are in wings off the main area. There are lots of windows along the front and sliding glass doors opening to the back and the deck.

Beyond the deck a row of cedars stands tall, forming a frothy green privacy wall between our deck and the next cottage. Chickadees and a male cardinal hang out in the trees and I have taken to putting breadcrumbs on the deck railing to entice them. So far, only the cardinal comes to pinch them in his beak and fly off, but I am delighted that he does.

 Last night after supper we walked along the macadam road toward the water and then leaving it, followed a sandy path lined with wild blackberry bushes, rose rugose and on the ground, a scattering of various wild flowers.  This led us through to a small cove.

A cloudy day at the cove.
From the cove Nantucket harbor appears to stretch out for miles. Above us, the pale blue sky was streaked with thin clouds, as if they were brushed by the light touch of a watercolorist. The brilliant, red/orange setting sun was low and enormous. Beautiful.

On the way home we stopped along the road to watch the sun sink slowly behind the distant trees. A sliver of new moon was visible through a thin film of cloud. A moment of reverence held us fast, when suddenly the sound of mad dance music blasted through the evening stillness and we both looked quickly around.  It was coming from . . . where?

We turned and saw, off to our left and slightly up a hill, that, on the top of the roof of a grey shingled house on what is called a Widow’s Walk, two teenaged girls were wildly dancing to the music. Long bare legs, short skirted sleeveless dresses. The music blaring: the girls laughing and flinging their arms and legs out into the air. Dancing to the setting sun? Dancing because they were young and happy and feeling crazy? For the sheer fun of it? The spectacle?

Same cloudy day, but a good shot of a Widow's Walk.


It didn’t matter. The two women of a certain age below on the road began to wave their arms to the rhythm of the music and the girls, high on the roof-top, turned in our direction, the four of us waving and laughing together.

                                                ***
So sorry I didn't have my phone with me on the sunny day of this walk. I'm afraid you will just have to imagine. For those of you from other countries, I thought it might be helpful to see a Widow's Walk: the high place from which wives would faithfully scan the horizon for the sight of their husbands' ships returning home after years at sea.