Category: Uncategorized

Grief: a cause of deep sadness, Grieve, Breathe, Begin Again

My friend, Jeanne passed away this week. Though small in stature, she was a giant in presence.  I will miss her hugs and easy laugh.  I learned so much from her.  She gifted the world for 90 years and that was not long enough. I am grieving, but very grateful she was in my life.   

a Wrinkle

Death and loss is not a topic you or I like to think about. As if not talking about it means  it will magically not happen to us. A commercial for life insurance talks about death this way “ Let’s  assume that some day you won’t be watching TV anymore. “ —talk about  denial! I believe that aging is really a string of losses. My friends and family members pass away, my body looses its strength and mobility, and the number of years I have left are dwindling. I don’t know current slang, but I must say I love the word “ dwindling”: to become steadily less.  My life is dwindling is exactly right. I grieve many different kinds of losses. Grief is grief,  though it differs in intensity, duration, and lasting effects depending on the loss. I grieved the death of Roger, my late husband, while he was alive and suffering with the slow death of dementia, and after he died, and every day since then, including today. I grieved when my son left home and when I didn’t get the job I really wanted. It’s like my life is a Jenga tower and the older I get,  the more pieces are removed and the more likely it will all fall down. I’ve been shaped by the chisel of grief and transformed by grief, past tense and present tense. I hurt and I cry and I rage and I deny, but still losses keep on coming.

a Wonder

Despite all of the times that I thought I couldn’t  get thru “this” pain,  I’m still here. I’ve not been able to build a safe room against grief. Do I get better at grieving the more I experience it?  I think I’ve gotten better at acceptance. I don’t wrap myself in bubble wrap and deny that life has pain for myself and everyone.  No exceptions!  I can’t deny that life also brings joy and love. Endings and beginnings have cycled through my life. I can love another pet after I have lost a beloved pet. I’m not replacing one for the other because I have enough love to give and accept from another pet. In the middle of my grief at losing a furry member of my family, I’m sure I will never want to feel that  pain again, but I see another special dog or cat and know I’ve got to risk loving again. The joy outweighs the pain of loss. The biggest risk I’ve ever taken is to become a mother. Talk about signing up for the biggest risk of all! Loving so intensely brings immeasurable joy, but also immeasurable loss and pain. If I focus on all the losses I have had or will have I only feel grief, but that’s only half of life’s equation. I can also choose to focus on the good and joys in life. Gratitude is one of the tools I use to keep my focus on the good and the grace in life. My gratitude muscle has gotten stronger as I’ve gotten older. Grief is better when it is shared with friends, so I prioritize my friendships. I try to live keeping in mind the  reality that I will die. I make this reality the catalyst to keep my relationships healthy and to tell people I love them as often as I can. I don’t want to have unfinished business weighing on me. 

A Wrinkle and a Wonder a Week #14

a Wrinkle

I was sitting here for awhile staring at the blinking cursor on my screen.  The blinking was harassing me and I capitulated, not because I have something to say, but because I had to make it stop. Now what? I guess I should figure out if I have anything to say and if there is anyone who will listen. At times I think, “I’m old, people don’t see me and who cares what I say.” What if I am invisible and irrelevant?  I fear I may be both. I don’t want to be the speaker at the “ bully pulpit.”,nor do I want to be submissive with my silence.  Congress has not called me in yet, but I’m waiting. I have never felt so strongly that I have something to say in all the spheres in my life: personally, socially, and politically. At the same time I know how my anger and frustration can lead to ranting. Just ask family members and friends! Ranting is not very effective,  I’m saying a lot of words, but my body language and tone of voice can distract from my message. I’ll get to rant level very quickly, so I try to slow myself down and pause before I speak, but if the red flag of Trump is waved in my face I charge  like a bull.  I swing from mute ( it doesn’t matter what I say,  to rage  (everything I say must be heard). My judgement regarding how, when and what to say is poor, but  not nearly as poor as many in the current administration. How I express myself is up to me and there are times when I lose my patience and border on the grouchy old lady who forgets “You can catch more flies with honey.” Assertive or aggressive? Remember when assertiveness training was the buzz word of day? I think I need some more  assertiveness training. I have  feelings and  words inside of me that I need to modulate before I share.  Ricocheting from emotion to emotion, I’m playing verbal pinball trying to keep the ball in play, but I always tilt or the ball quietly rolls down and out. 

a Wonder

The wonder is how I have gotten to my age without alienating everyone in the world or imploding!  Ironically, I think fewer situations get my ire up and I’m actually more mellow about things I used to think were worth getting upset about, but what does provoke me, positive or negative,  fosters more intense feelings. I love fiercely and hate fiercely, but I focus on fewer things and my attention is not scattershot and I’m still “Mama Bear” for those I love and the causes I support. The intensity of my feelings shocks me at times. When  I “crash out” it’s much better if I have people I love pull me back to earth. When I share my feelings I can get perspective and validation or get told to shut up and calm down, both are feedback I need. When I write, there’s a much better chance my words will be selected carefully,  but without the context of my tone of voice, facial expressions and body language I have to work extra hard to get my one dimensional words to send my message. Texting can be risky when the potential for mis-understanding mi words and context increases communication failures. If it’s very important to me its worth making a phone or video call. There are a few people I can talk to for hours and others short and sweet is much better. There are some people I don’t want to talk to and I give myself permission to  be in “silent” mode with them. Of course,  you better listen to what I say, because you will miss something important if you don’t. For sure!

A Wrinkle and a Wonder a Week #14

a Wrinkle

I was sitting here for awhile staring at the blinking cursor on my screen.  The blinking was harassing me and I capitulated, not because I have something to say, but because I had to make it stop. Now what? I guess I should figure out if I have anything to say and if there is anyone who will listen. At times I think, “I’m old, people don’t see me and who cares what I say.” What if I am invisible and irrelevant?  I fear I may be both. I don’t want to be the speaker at the “ bully pulpit.”,nor do I want to be submissive with my silence.  Congress has not called me in yet, but I’m waiting. I have never felt so strongly that I have something to say in all the spheres in my life: personally, socially, and politically. At the same time I know how my anger and frustration can lead to ranting. Just ask family members and friends! Ranting is not very effective,  I’m saying a lot of words, but my body language and tone of voice can distract from my message. I’ll get to rant level very quickly, so I try to slow myself down and pause before I speak, but if the red flag of Trump is waved in my face I charge  like a bull.  I swing from mute ( it doesn’t matter what I say,  to rage  (everything I say must be heard). My judgement regarding how, when and what to say is poor, but  not nearly as poor as many in the current administration. How I express myself is up to me and there are times when I lose my patience and border on the grouchy old lady who forgets “You can catch more flies with honey.” Assertive or aggressive? Remember when assertiveness training was the buzz word of day? I think I need some more  assertiveness training. I have  feelings and  words inside of me that I need to modulate before I share.  Ricocheting from emotion to emotion, I’m playing verbal pinball trying to keep the ball in play, but I always tilt or the ball quietly rolls down and out. 

a Wonder

The wonder is how I have gotten to my age without alienating everyone in the world or imploding!  Ironically, I think fewer situations get my ire up and I’m actually more mellow about things I used to think were worth getting upset about, but what does provoke me, positive or negative,  fosters more intense feelings. I love fiercely and hate fiercely, but I focus on fewer things and my attention is not scattershot and I’m still “Mama Bear” for those I love and the causes I support. The intensity of my feelings shocks me at times. When  I “crash out” it’s much better if I have people I love pull me back to earth. When I share my feelings I can get perspective and validation or get told to shut up and calm down, both are feedback I need. When I write, there’s a much better chance my words will be selected carefully,  but without the context of my tone of voice, facial expressions and body language I have to work extra hard to get my one dimensional words to send my message. Texting can be risky when the potential for mis-understanding mi words and context increases communication failures. If it’s very important to me its worth making a phone or video call. There are a few people I can talk to for hours and others short and sweet is much better. There are some people I don’t want to talk to and I give myself permission to  be in “silent” mode with them. Of course,  you better listen to what I say, because you will miss something important if you don’t. For sure!

A Wrinkle and a Wonder a Week #13

a wrinkle

“If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.”

If I am given the opportunity to gamble I will. Not the big stakes like craps or poker,  but I can play slots and sit in front of machines for hours trying to win my 20 bucks back.  I move on and the next person on that machine gets the jackpot! I don’t consider myself lucky and I can resent other people’s good “luck”.  As I get older, I  take stock of my life and sometimes I don’t see that  Lady Luck  has smiled on me. My default is believing when others win I lose. There is only so much luck and good outcomes available and I don’t have a seat at the table. Not a very flattering tell on myself. I too frequently operate from self-pity and resentment, and I suspect I may also have some projection going on! My Mom often said, “ Where there’s a will there’s a way.”, but I know that’s not always true when what we call “dumb luck” operates. When something is attributed to dumb luck, it means that “it happened completely by chance without being expected, planned, or deserved.” I get hung up on the “completely by chance” and “deserved” aspect.  I know I deserve it!  No matter how hard I work and plan, dumb luck can’t be ruled out. The randomness of life can not be willed away. This scares me and angers me. Dumb luck?  

a wonder 

Can I create my own luck? As Seneca said “ Luck is a matter of preparation.” This is true in a small way because if I don’t play and participate in the game, then I will not win the game.. How can I be in the right place at the right time if I never leave my house? The thing about luck though is it is all about by chance and randomness and that is not music to my control freak ears! Sometimes on my morning runs I would entertain myself with the fantasy that I won a million dollars in the lottery and how I would spend it. Nice fantasy,  but I didn’t quit my job.  So in most ways I am powerless over making my own luck.  if this is true, and I believe it is,  I really have only 2 choices: accept it or continue to  fight a reality I can not change. The later  guarantees failure, pain and resentment. Tallying others good luck is an exercise in resentment. I also remind myself that not getting  what I want can sometimes  be a very lucky thing if it was not good for me in the long run.  Luck  can be  hard to understand . Ironically telling someone to “ Break a leg” means you are actually wishing them good luck. I’ll just say “ Good luck.”

The forecast for tonight- dark. George Carlin

A Wrinkle and a Wonder a Week #12

a wrinkle

Extreme weather is the norm.  “Baby it’s cold (Windchill  -40)  outside.”  or “You could fry an egg on the blacktop.” And surprise! Let’s get rid of staff and agencies that help to predict the weather and issue weather warnings, because they are a “waste” of money. Would someone please explain to Trump what global warming means? Never mind, he’s low I.Q..  My anxiety magnet, you know the anxiety that can hover around the edges of life, is activated by bad weather.  I’m no longer that little girl who hopes for snow days so I can stay home from school and look forward to building snow forts and snowmen. When it was too hot, I stayed in the shade or splashed in water. I don’t have to worry about digging out to go to work anymore, but cabin fever is a real condition. It’s the difference  between being warm and cozy, and just being stuck inside. I don’t like being stuck anywhere. What if I need help or I can’t get out or no one can get to me? I live alone and I feel more vulnerable the older I get. The “what ifs’ increase exponentially. What if my air conditioner breaks down and I can’t afford to get a new one? What if high winds, temperatures and drought converge to cause raging urban fires. What if I slip on the ice and am injured? I know I can’t control the weather, but I don’t want the weather to control me. It’s a battle I can’t win. Yes, I have hired someone to shovel my driveway and mow my yard, and he’s great, but I have to depend on someone else. In short, bad weather can create a crisis and I don’t need more crisis as I navigate this stage of my life. And guess what? I have to accept the weather, good and bad.  I can’t change it. When I  resist and rage at the weather,  I am the only one who suffers. My attitude has got to change, and I struggle with that because fear can cement my bad attitude.

a wonder

I live in beautiful Colorado with almost 300 days of sunshine a year. This is part of the reason I live here, a geographic “cure”.  Even with the relatively mild weather, at least compared to Iowa, we still have snow, high winds, floods and dangerous heat, and on top of that we have high wildfire danger. I can and do  take steps to plan for and mitigate threats caused by extreme weather.  At the same time I have worked on creating a backyard haven where I can enjoy the good weather comfortably and safely. The table, chairs and umbrellas on my deck and patio protect me from the hot sun. My landscaping is always a work in progress. I work with the weather and climate and xeriscape my yard so I don’t need to water much at all.  I think I do what I can do, but I still struggle with feeling vulnerable. It’s a fact that the the weather is getting worse because of climate change, so sticking my head in the sand is not helpful. I search for a balance between a pragmatic response to climate change and a “The sky is is falling.” approach, but I do  believe we are closer to a climate catastrophe. I always come back to how important having a support system and being a member of a community is pivotal to my mental health and personal safety. I wrote last week about the value of good neighbors. I can ask for help and support. Whatever fears I have, including those about bad weather, can be shared and validated. I don’t need to hide my vulnerabilities, and we can support each other with the  practicalities of dealing with bad weather. If you see me singing and dancing in the rain or ambushing my neighbors with snowballs from my  snow fort, I could be making friends with the weather. Or a little crazy!

a Wrinkle 

I’m not Mr. Rogers, but several of my neighbors have decided they don’t want to be my neighbors any more.  U-Haul trucks and cardboard boxes are plentiful on my street. I’ve stayed for over 30 years and my neighbors come and go. I’m feeling kinda blue and not sure I have the words to explain myself. The view out my kitchen window is changing again, different people, cars, dogs etc. Of course I really miss my doggie neighbors when they leave. I have waves of sadness seeing empty yards formerly occupied by my canine friends.   I witness these changes and wonder if I’m just the nosy old lady in the neighborhood. Not a flattering look for me. I’ve had several people on my block tell me they see me walking my dogs everyday and they take comfort in the regularity and routine of seeing me. Wow. I’m an inspiration and I didn’t know it. On bad days I think this is what’s left for me as others leave and go on with their glorious  lives!  A big move for people my age is into assisted living. I think for me it’s all about being left behind and feeling invisible. The grass may not be greener in the next yard, but at least those who move out have the chance to see a different yard. Young people are mobile as they become adults, as school and work may keep them on the move. And then there are those awful neighbors that have made my life more difficult (a living hell) at times. It also pains me to know that there really is little I can do to remedy the “bad neighbor” situation. The police and many HOA boards refuse to get involved until someone is physically hurt or property destroyed. Too little, too late. 

I’ve experienced “good” neighbors being driven out of the neighborhood by intolerable neighbors. In spite of these risky situations, I still want the opportunity to be part of a neighborhood community.

a Wonder

I  think that feeling sad when my neighbors move away is a good sign that I made a connection, and our lives intersected in some meaningful way. I’ve  helped  them and they so generously have helped me. Saying hello and chatting with my neighbors is an important anchor for me. I’ve enjoyed having young adults and young families as my neighbors. It reminds me that there  are hopeful beginnings. I don’t want to be just the old lady next door. The kids next door have addressed me by name,“Hi Danita!”, ever since they were toddlers. It feels good to not be addressed as  “Hey Lady”.When a snowstorm buries us, shoveling out almost becomes a party as we all venture out of our houses. When the HOA board is being  an asshole we can band together to commiserate . A few neighbors have brought me joy because they have left! Even in these circumstances I’ve felt a sense of unity with my neighbors who suffer with me . As I stand at  my kitchen sink,  the view from my window is a kaleidoscope  of life. Kids are playing, dogs are being walked,  neighbors are saying hello as they get into their cars to head to work and  U-Haul trucks are being loaded almost ready to leave the neighborhood. I wonder if Joe found a new job, or how Mari feels after getting thru COVID. I tell those who are moving out good luck. When the neighbors who have become my friends leave I cry and am grateful they were in my life. I stay and soon I will welcome new neighbors who will, I hope,  bring joy to my days.  I remember: “I don’t need a mansion if I have good neighbors.”

a wrinkle

This is my State of the Union Address. Trauma. Everyday, all day. I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder ( PTSD) so for me this is no exaggeration or hyperbole. The assault is relentless and constant. Trump and his MAGA minions are doing or saying threatening, hateful and cruel things every hour of everyday. There are so many distressing things going on in our country, politically, fiscally, socially and within our world alliances, so there is much fodder for trauma and outrage. I can’t seem to ignore the siege of Minneapolis and the death of Renee Gold.   What if it is really as bad as I think it is?  My body and mind are responding the same way I responded to traumas I’ve experienced in the past. So I think  this is easy to address: stop watching or reading any media and live under a rock in complete isolation. That should work. I know there are other alternatives, but I am having a difficult time figuring out how to navigate from living in total denial to being triggered with no relief. I am a person who wants to know what is going on, who wants to be informed. I am intensely curious. And because I suffer from PTSD,  I tend to be  hyper-vigilant, scanning my environment for threats and danger. “Danger, danger Will Robinson”, for those of us old enough to remember. In short, what a perfect political environment to feed my fears and offer no reprieve.   I know I’m not the only person who shares my fears, perhaps I am not overreacting, but maybe I should just shut up, develop an attitude of who cares and learn to unsee what I see. It can’t get any worse can it? Don’t answer that!

a wonder 

Trauma is cumulative. What is going on now? What’s the trouble? Can’t relax because everything is coming at me at once with  no time to rest and restore myself . My hope is my coping skills are cumulative too. I can add on to what works to help me respond to trauma in a better way.  I can draw on what I have learned from past traumas. I am talking about resilience; which is the ability to become healthy, strong and successful after trauma.  I get up one more time than I fall down. I rest when I need to and find comfort and nurture where it is. I limit my social media/ news media time and stop watching or following a couple of hours before bed time. It’s the stuff of insomnia and nightmares. I read a lot of fiction and escape into stories. When I am feeling particularly powerless I try to find one small thing I can do, like writing this post, or making a sign to use at the protest I am going to. I hit the streets to peacefully take action  and raise my voice with my fellow resisters. When the news is particularly dire, I cry. And sometimes nothing seems to work and I have to tell myself to just hang on. It may not be pretty,  but I will get through this and this too shall pass. My rage is the emotion that can consume me. Hate can and does sneak in if I’m not careful. It is so seductive! In the meantime, I could learn some new swear words, and  spend  time on Zillow looking for a cozy little home under a rock with no WiFi, T.V.or phone service….

A WRINKLE and a WONDER a Week #9

a Wrinkle

“Sorry I’m late, I lost track of time.” We all remember when we’ve looked at the clock and thought, “I can’t believe it’s that’s time already!” Getting older has really put the concept of time front and center in my life, especially thinking about how much time I have left and how much time I’ve wasted! Everyday I think I just need some more time, and then I can hear the Universe laughing at me. How I am spending my time determines how joyful and meaningful my life is. Whining and complaining are a waste of my limited time. Doing things I don’t want to do, but think I should do —another waste of time. People pleasing and trying to be perfect -you guessed it, another waste of time. Yet, I’m guilty of choosing any or all  of these options much too often. Some things simply require a certain amount of time. I have to wait 15 minutes for my Covid rapid test results.  Baking something for too short a time makes for inedible food. Self checkout is quicker, but I still have to wait for a scanner to be free. I spend a lot of time waiting. “I had a great time waiting today.” said no one ever.  All of us have to spend some time doing things we don’t want to do in order to keep our lives going smoothly: cleaning house, putting gas in our cars, buying diapers and groceries, getting our bills paid, getting colonoscopies, etc…. Unless we can pay someone to do those things for us, but there’s still the colonoscopy we have to do for ourselves. I make time for preventative health exams in hopes I’ll earn more time for my total  life span. Can I really save time or take time?  It seems the only thing about time that I can control is how I decide to use it. Time has speeded up and the years pass so quickly now. I could barely wait for Santa Claus, it was such a  long time to wait, but now I worry that I’m not paying attention to all the wonderful moments that present to me.  Too soon it will be “Time’s up!”

a Wonder

Death comes for everyone. As I experience the loss of family members and friends I am reminded my time is finite. I’m not immortal and I’m not sure I really want to be. Can I make a bargain with time?  Time makes no deals, with anyone. When it’s time it’s time. I need to  hold the fragility of life in my mind, while choosing how I spend my days. I can’t make more time, but I can make better time. Spending time on B when I really want to spend more time on A is my choice. I can’t do 2 things at once. As Red says in “Shawshank Redemption”, “You’re either busy livin’ or busy dyin’.” And I remind myself that this life is not a rehearsal,  it’s opening night and closing night rolled into one, and it’s all improv!  When I’m reading, writing  and crafting I tend to get so focused that I’m not paying attention to time passing, but I think this is the opposite of wasting time.  I’m using up time, but I’m also nourishing myself, filling myself up. I want more of life in my days no matter how many days I have left. I’ve learned a few things about time management even if it’s more like time manages me.  I try to avoid calling any medical or business office on Mondays, unless I want to live my life “on hold “ or “on speaker”. I  have more flexibility as a retired person, so often I can avoid the busy times or  put myself on wait lists for openings.  Mastering online business or portals really does speed things up. Keep it simple, less clutter, less stuff to pay attention to and waste time on. If I have to wait for something I read or walk around. If there’s a quicker and easier way to get something done, I want to know about it. I have my connections with helpful people who I know I can trust. Knowing who to talk to saves a lot of time. Please don’t make me tell my story again! I’ll count myself lucky, if when I get to the pearly gates, I get to tell St.Peter, “Sorry I’m late, I lost track of time.”

 a Wrinkle

It’s that time of the New Year. All of the health clubs will be be crowded with new faces all determined to lose weight and get in shape—their New Year’s resolutions for 2026. Past experience tells me the crowd will thin out, generally within a few weeks, and New Year’s resolutions will be abandoned. I may have been one of those faces. How and why do people actually change? One thing for sure is I can’t change anyone else, although I’ve never stopped trying. Yes, the buck stops with me! Does anyone have change for a buck? Anyway this whole idea of deciding to make a positive change and actually doing it is a mystery to me. I stopped smoking many years ago and I still don’t really understand how I did that! My Mother always said “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” I still hate to hear that because willpower is not easy to get and whatever it is I have so little of it, but I know my Mom was right. I’ve had so many years to cement bad habits, settle into comfortable inertia, and I fall asleep at 9 which doesn’t give me much time! My “default” settings are hard-wired and I’m guilty of thinking “This is just who I am”. In spite of all these concerns, there are still changes I want to make and goals I want to meet. I’m still here so there’s more to come! If one of my goals is to practice more self-acceptance that requires a change in my thinking and attitudes which may be the hardest of any changes to make. Most days I’m pretty optimistic, but some days I’m just tired!

a Wonder

So is it harder for older people to change? What does AI say? ChatGPT tells me “Short answer: yes, its usually harder-but very much still possible.” Who am I to argue with artificial intelligence? As an older adult I have certain advantages that young people lack when it comes to making the changes I desire. There’s always my, “Been there, done that.”, experiences which hopefully have taught me at least what does not work in changing myself. Giving myself permission to smoke according to a schedule never worked to make me a non-smoker, it had to be cold turkey. Rewarding myself with the poison I’m trying to banish from may life has never worked for me.  I don’t “reward” myself with booze or sugar. I know I have to start with small changes and consider slow progress a success. When I started running it was a block, then 5 blocks and so on- up to miles. I don’t believe in “whipping” myself into shape or anything else. I think the biggest difference in making changes in my life ,from my younger years to now, is my motivation for doing so.  I’m not trying to “stake my claim” in the world any longer. Success is something different now. I’m not trying to win, I’m trying to matter. I want to actively increase my participation  in  social, cultural and political arenas where I believe I can make a difference and be a part of the community. This is what I resolve for the new year:  Show up, practice gratitude and cherish family and friends everyday!  And of course lose 10 pounds, and learn how to do a back flip…

Possibilities aren’t endless, but the odds are pretty good this year will be better than 2025…. HAPPY NEW YEAR 2026!

a WRINKLE a Week #7   

Yes Danita, there is no Santa Claus. No how, no way. Bah Humbug!  Grown-ups are such downers. Magic, fantasy, and wonder are for kids, not old people. I just want to skip Christmas and the forced gaiety.  I just set myself up for disappointment when the Norman Rockwell christmas I envision doesn’t happen. It never has!   A Martha Stewart christmas makes me tired just reading about it. Would my younger friends call Martha an influencer? Christmas cookies make me fat, eggnog does too. Reality is as irresistible as a club, but it’s the only story in town. I don’t drink anymore,  but several drinks of Baileys or hot buttered rum sounds better and better as each year comes around. “He knows when you’re naughty or nice.” I always choose naughty over nice and besides the old fart sounds like a stalker. And what about the  little creatures called elves? Elves are kinda cute, but their eyes are dead and evil and I don’t want one on my shelf!  If Santa (who does not exist) got stuck in my chimney I could die from carbon dioxide poisoning  because my  fireplace does not vent. Trump, our souless ,evil, dear leader said he is bringing back Christmas; this from a Scrooge, a grinch, a bad Santa, the anti-Christ and Satan . Our country is so sad and beaten down. What’s so “merry” about this Christmas?

a WONDER a week #7

What about the little girl inside of me who KNOWS there is a Santa Claus?Can I find the Spirit  of Christmas within me  if I can soften my heart? I  remember Christmas at the bookstore where I worked for many years. If I didn’t focus on my tired feet, there were many moments when I put the book my customer wanted in their hands and I got a big thank you and all was well. There was always the children’s book section and Santa bear to cheer me up. These memories can sustain me in the present day when my Christmas spirit wanes, I’ve found I can enjoy the elements of Christmas I love and let the rest go. I can enjoy the work that others do, the lights and decorating and baking. For me, I cherish all the Christmas lights that I believe can banish the darkness in our world. When I turn on the Christmas lights on my little trees, the lights soothe and comfort me. I love to cuddle with my doggies and feel the peace. Its not a flashy frantic “Everything, Everywhere, All At Once” kind of Christmas,  but it’s real. I  don’t need to believe in Santa to believe in the peace and joy of Chrismas.