Reflections

 

A first post in a new year calls for deep thoughts and reflections. Alas, I feel I have very little to offer. There’s enough that’s been written about you-know-what and I have nothing to add.

I read recently on a blog, and I can’t remember which one because I read so many good blogs that a medley of them seep into my mind, that we should remember we have an appointment with life. (I’m sorry I can’t provide the link here but some of the blogs I follow are on the left). I’m so glad that there are all these women out there (and maybe some men too?) who take the time to ponder deeply and share their thoughts, emotions and ideas with us.

Like some of you, I have grown a tad weary of the quick hits, scrolling and superficiality of social media. It’s much too easy to be sucked into the algorithm. I prefer the wordier, slower, more thoughtful form of communication that goes beneath the surface. I haven’t given up entirely on social media because of course there are gems out there. I’ve never been on FB or Twitter. Yes, I’m one of those FB holdouts, because I’ve never felt any reason to be on it. I know there are courses and classes and discussion groups to be had through it, but to me, it’s always been: Why would I want people to reach out their long arms from the past just to share pictures of kids and grandkids and pets? If we’d wanted to keep in touch, surely we would have, by email or text or phone calls?

But I started out this post thinking I would reflect on my past year. Not the you-know-what part, but all the other stuff. I realize as I mentally sort through the lists, that I really did try out new things and accomplish (although I dislike that word) others:

• I self-published a novella. Yes, it was a small project, mainly for writing groups family and friends. But I shall chalk that up to something big and brave and new.
• I started painting! Yes that deserves an exclamation mark.
• I began swimming again, aiming for twice a week. Although the pool is shut down now.
• I made the somewhat weighty decision to start working part-time this year to allow me to focus more on my creative side.
• I took blog school with the incomparable Kerry Clare and launched this blog site. And through her, discovered some brilliant bloggers and writers.
• I sifted through a decade’s worth of essays on hiking trips and crafted a manuscript! Yes that deserves another exclamation mark.
• I kept plugging away at learning a little Spanish daily
• I walked a lot and read a lot and discovered Canadian authors I’d never read before (like Bianca Marais, Alison Wearing, Shashi Bhat, Louise Penny)
• I began tentatively and conservatively doing some investing and teaching myself a few things in the process
• Early in the year I took an online class (targeted at retirees and pre-retirees, surprisingly inexpensive) on The Artist’s Way and met a great group of women who I keep in touch with via monthly zoom chats
• I continued meeting monthly with my two writing groups, zooming when we couldn’t meet in person. Albeit, I would ‘cheat’ and submit the same piece to both groups, although I confessed this in advance. I can’t say enough about how much I love having these women in my life.
• I started regular long, in-depth, soul-satisfying chats with a cherished friend from my high school years who still lives in the Middle East
• I engaged and continue to engage in daily online scrabble battles with my daughter. This is yet another case of where the student has surpassed the teacher. To think she was once a toddler afraid of the letter Q because the queen on the flip-side of the alphabet tile looked too angry. Now she regularly throws out words like Qi and uses all seven tiles to rack up huge scores.

Phew, when I look at that list above it makes me sound all virtuous and accomplished and Type-A. But in fact I also spent long hours on the couch reading and napping and snacking and drinking wine, watching Netflix, allowing the housekeeping to sometimes drop to dismal standards.  I’ve become much more of a loner than I previously already was. I’ve become crankier and more blunt and less tolerant of superficiality. Maybe I’ve ruffled a few feathers along the way. 

Is that just an aging thing—caring less and less about what others think of you—or is that a result of two years of you-know-what? Is that growing more comfortable in your own skin, or is that just being a tad too damn self-sufficient? Is that becoming more aware or is that losing empathy or just trying to block out some of the noise and cacophony of voices? I don’t know.

Along the way I’ve also learned not to watch the news just before bedtime because who needs to go to bed with all that anxiety about the world in your head, perhaps seeping into your dreams? Who among us has not had the dream about being in a crowd, panicked at realizing you’ve left your mask at home? I’ve made exceptions to the no-news-watching-at-night rule occasionally because I do like CBC and the news hosts and surely I’m not the only Canadian who is thinking ‘what a good-looking guy’ even while Ian Hanomansing is delivering dire news.

I’m lucky in that I don’t have young children at home or aging parents to worry about. I’m able to work from home. I’m able to comfortably put food (and wine) on the table, despite rising grocery costs. And periodic shutdowns of facilities and services don’t negatively affect me as they do so many others. And I’m grateful for all of that. But I’m also very aware, increasingly so, that there’s more years behind me than ahead of me. And that these days, months, years are not to be frittered away being busy or seeking merely to be entertained or, god forbid, working on ‘self-improvement’.

It’s now down to doing what is meaningful in all the ways that mean something to me.

A hike through the woods

My 'Happy Stream' painting