Month: June 2024

The Pitbull: a  muscular fierce looking dog with a bad reputation, usually unearned. I’m sure, like me, you’ve heard it a million times that “it depends on the owner”.  Still, I am a little uncomfortable when I see a Pitbull pulling their owner wherever the dog wants to go! This morning I was walking my little doggies and spotted a  Pitbull being walked and I held up my doggies. I’ve learned avoidance is sometimes the best response . I stood and watched as the owner led the dog up the stairs to their house.Their progress was slow as the dog had a difficult time negotiating the stairs and moved very stiffly. At the top of the stairs the dog turned and I saw a very gray muzzle, and I realized the dog was quite old. Immediately, my heart was full of kinship and sorrow.  I thought, as my eyes teared up, “Yes, Pitbulls get old too.”

All animals get old, including all human animals like me. For a moment, that Pitbull and I were both old souls with beating hearts. I felt compassion for the two of us with our aging bodies. We were once strong and curious and had the world on a leash.  I feel so connected to dogs, and I know for sure that we are a “we” and know each other well..  Puppies and babies are so magnetic and lovable, we gravitate to them,  but old dogs and old people are an acquired taste. We learn to love aging faces and bodies as we ourselves are aging. 

I believe that aging and awe are traveling companions and curiosity is the glue that holds them together. Like the Pitbull, I explore the world on my daily walks and often spot something ordinary that brings me awe. I move slower; this speed allows the world to rush in over my walls. Lest I get too philosophical and cerebral, I know aging can be a very difficult experience. Aging brings  a lot of losses to grieve. The physical, emotional and spiritual losses that come with aging keep me tethered to resistance.  How do I overcome the urge to fight aging? The truth is I’m not into overcoming much of anything, now I just want to accept it all.  Begrudging  my aging body doesn’t help me stay  healthy.  Actually resistance is not good for much of anything.  Reality always wins, and in spite of it I find that I still love and am loved. Raging at my diminishing capabilities is a waste of precious time.  I choose instead to be grateful that my hearing aides and my glasses can compensate for some of the sensory deficits I have. Of course, I have my moments of anger and regret, but I don’t hang out there. The kindness of the pitbull’s owner help him to take in the world, and make sure that he isn’t isolated from the great “ outside” and companionship. I’d like to think we humans want that for each other too. 

Some days the equation seems to be as x (age) goes up, y ( joy) goes down, but I know it’s the choices I make that create the “new” math of my life.  I have so much less to manage and worry about.  I get to say “I don’t care.”and “So what!” at least once a day. How satisfying is that? I get to care for my doggies, and other peoples dogs too, as they and I age.   We can count dog years and people years,  but we all know it’s the life in those years that counts.  We both deserve “treats” and walks every day, and massive amounts of unconditional love. Birthdays add up and joys add up too.

I’m possessed. Not that kind of possessed!  I’m possessed by all my possessions.  I know“You can’t take it with you”,  but I thought I would have like 100 years before I needed to downsize. I supersized my stuff, binged on material possessions and gained a lot of material and psychic weight,  and there is no Ozempic for clutter control. I’ll have to settle for will power!

I still want to hang onto things but I’m starting to change my thinking and my behavior slowly. I will only change when  I decide to change , and the “times they are a changin.” Right now it’s more painful for me to collect things and clutter my life than to feel momentarily bereft when I let things or people go. I want to see clearly, move freely and think freely. I can’t be tending to my stuff and lose my focus. Too many choices and I become overwhelmed, and conversely I’m  convinced there is one and only one correct choice. Just buy 5 different kinds of toothpaste or shampoo, experiment and choose one and keep the others just in case.   When I quit smoking I threw away a lot of almost full packs cause I just wanted 1 more cigarette -and then I would quit completely. I finally quit when I got it that cigarettes were controlling me not vice versa. I wanted to be free to not “ need” a substance to get thru my life. Notice that cigarettes aren’t sold in packs of 5! 

The better I am at organizing, the worst I become at paring down my stuff. Why keep figuring out how to organize my stuff when I could just get rid of it?. If I am not using a pan or a utensil or whatever why do I keep it and then have to figure out how to store it. I play this game with myself where I see how many pairs of shoes I can buy, keep and organize.  It’s not a game I can win. Believe me I have tried! I have a bounce house full of beads of all kinds. I think I might need to bring home less stuff. The flow of what comes in and what goes out needs to skew toward less “ in” and lots more “ out”. Who needs 5 corkscrews because you couldn’t find the other 4?

I’m a compulsive person who must figure it all out. I have a dangerous amount of psychic clutter. It’s ALL important and I must always focus on bettering myself, being good enough and preferably perfect. I have rehearsals going on in my head all the time.  I get myself prepared with the best argument, retort ,put down or flirt. How will I get him to fall in love with me? Now I am finally confronting my false sense of control and realizing that worry really shits on today and this moment.  If I am worrying, I am not available to experience what is happening right now. I can’t hoard time no matter what bargains with the devil I try to make. I am a consumer of time and I know it is finite. Life doesn’t need to be so complicated and “time” consuming. 

My friend Henry David Thoreau preached :“Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb nail.” And “ Our life is frittered away by detail, simplify, simplify.” And the traveler in me  agrees with Henry” The rule is to carry as little as possible.” See the  farmer with his pitchfork and the farmer’s wife in her apron , and you are looking at “American Gothic” by Grant Wood. Now imagine them both with cell phones in their hands, ear buds in ,back packs stuffed to the gills and suitcases in a pile at their feet. Substitute  the pichfork with a Weed wacker. Silly isn’t it? What are the 12 Steps for Hoarders Anonymous?