August 7, 2013

Poster from my party...sorry about the glare. 

A week ago I retired. From this new vantage point as a recent retiree, I have a glimpse of a new emerging perspective; one that will diverge from that of a harried, stressed and often preoccupied middle manager in public service. I am going to try and give some voice to this transition in the next few weeks.  I do not yet know if it will be of any use or interest to anyone other than myself, but I will try to be honest and true and not take myself or the situation too terribly seriously.

I wonder why I retired --- not certain yet why.  Perhaps I thought if I stayed in the job any longer I would be discovered as not really knowing how to do it. Part of me has suspected myself as being a fraud. Of course since I worked that job for close to 30 years, my inadequacy should have already been discovered.
 I suppose the why doesn't really matter. I only know I wanted to be rid of  all the excuses for not being who I want to be.

I want to be successful in retirement.  By that I mean I want to be content, healthy, interesting, productive well adjusted, committed, charitable, energetic, laughing, a good housekeeper, a creative writer...o yes...and thin. Perhaps that is too ambitious hopeful.  At least I want to never say the words," I'm bored."

After my first week, my first lessons

1.       I always thought what I needed to accomplish all I want to accomplish and to be what I know my inner self is, was to have more time.  Now I know the truth.  It’s not merely about having more time…its more about finding the energy and willingness to use the time I have efficiently.. Inertia is the enemy.  It’s too easy to stay in the place I am at any given moment and not do the next thing I had decided to do when I first planned the day. 

 2 After the first week, I am still building my routine; it may take a bit longer to master this.

3.  This is a lesson I learned long ago but it’s doubly affirmed …I must get up, put my lace up shoes on immediately and start with the first thing on the list…before I have a chance to start rationalizing about why I don’t need to do that next thing.

4. Be open to spontaneity.  Have a routine, hold it loose but be true to it.

5. Doing something during the day hard enough that I really sweat, feels good and helps me feel good about my day.

6.  Naps are wonderful

Renewal and Random Rambling

Color with a threat of storm

KNITTING -- A SAFER SUBJECT

Knitting is consistently a dependable expectation. I am confident in my discipline to accomplish knitting each day, just as I know I will be disciplined enough to breathe, and eat.

I have several projects on the needles but only two active. I am about half way through a cabled vest, Gamine Vest by Tori Gurbisz. I am using Blue Moon Fiberarts in Winter Solstice Colorway. Its a satisfying interesting knit using WOOBU sport weight yarn. This has to be among my fav yarns to work. The other is a pair of bright red socks in Madeline Tosh sock, Byzantine colorway.

 There is a new great grand child due soon and all the unfinished projects (aka UFOs) are beckoning for me to finish them before the imminent baby shower and birth. Its best to also remember that its not too early to begin Christmas Knitting. Lots of projects, many in progress.

My stash seems to be getting bigger not smaller in spite of my daily busy fingers.  Its a mystery.

My SELF Project

I once arrogantly assumed that by my current age, 61, I would have it figured out--- IT -- how to live life as one wants to; to know what  to Do with my life, to know what I want and how to walk through life consistent with my goals, and consistent with my intent.

Sigh.

'Fraid my efforts are largely punctuated with somewhat extended periods when I seem determined to behave and live opposite of how I intend.

I'm doing better right now,in these past few months. I am practicing moderation even in my efforts to be consistently sane. I am therefore, feeling better,smiling more, noticing the neighborhood, and feeling grateful for each day, hour and minute I draw a healthy breath.

I am walking.

Hope Renewed with new spots of color

I wake up most mornings with a hope and steeled intent.  An intent that remembers past successes and knows what is possible. Somewhere between that commitment and my first cup of coffee, my actions bely all the decisions, promise, and palns for a good, serene and wise day

 But then... maybe today

Wearing My Grown-up Pants

With a sigh this morning, I decided it was a day for the grown-up pants.

Picture deleted

Sometimes I feel daunted by the many choices I am faced with each day. What disturbs my serenity the most is the extent to which I grapple with emergent questions and their associated options [ they come disguised as solutions] I am less able to be mature in the selection of the 'right' solutions for the daily and mundane. I increasingly deteriorate until I am justifying myself as a child would, thinking “But I wanna!” It's, after all, those pesky little daily decisions which will, or could be, the most important ones effecting the quality of life of  my dottering years. Right? I mean after all buttery buttermilk biscuits with marmalade may sound yummy and comforting right now, but if I pursue that each day…. I do need to be able to get out of the chair. Right? I enjoy hiking and breathing deeply and chasing the dog around the dog park and well you get the idea.


I don’t want to inject too much drama into what is really the everyday stuff of any person’s life. After all, deciding on melted cheese with a sticky bun or a candy bar instead of a bowl of homemade vegetable soup for a midday meal isn’t a big deal. One shouldn’t put too much importance in such things. Deciding to put my lace up shoes on with my grown-up pants on a Saturday instead of lounging around with my social media friends and fuzzy slippers is just such a mundane decision. But I find as my workweek life with its bigger topics predominates, I increasingly take the easy, comfortable slouchy way of sitting through the day. As I dwell on the rational grown-up dilemmas and serious stuff, I am more apt to gratify myself at the expense of nutrient rich decisions.



Tomorrow I can grow up, today I want to feel comfortable.



When things got tough for me as a little girl, my grandma would caution me to wear my grown-up pants. This was an expression reminding me that a reasoned, adult approach would be necessary to face whatever was destined for me that day. She was so right. She was… wasn’t she?

Another Beach stroll April 2011

Benchmarking well-being  

My annual beach trek has provided me with a benchmark of sorts.  I’ve visited here annually for over 30 years.  I have been young and old, thick and thin, motivated and not, manic  and depressed,  sick & well;  and fit & trim.  I have been here as a drunk, and these past 10 years as a recovering twelve stepper. I have knitted incessantly and I have explored mercilessly.

My children and grandchildren have accompanied my husband and I on many of these visits. I remember them with me when they were small children and also as young adults.  I savor the images from those visits ...they are vividly stored in my mind’s gallery.  These are my lasting beach trip mementos, more so than the basket of broken shells and bits of agate & rock serving as a doorstop at home.  A small girl dancing in the silvery sunshine as it twinkles in the slanted light of dusk. Was that my daughter or my granddaughter?  Not certain anymore. I see the dogs clearing the beachfront of all birdlife, chasing gulls into the waves. One dog died of old age, one of cancer, and now one runs the beach in midlife vibrancy.  She prances and climbs the cliffs with my all grown-up grandson. I couldn’t manage the climb this time.

 This visit is not unlike those of past years

At some point in the midst of each these visits, I have sat and pondered in a personal check-in of sorts.  How am I doing? Am I living life as I choose?  Have I remembered to fill up my heart with the full measure of gratitude my days deserve?    This time, I look out the window,  basking in the beach’s rhythms and light. I feel the thrumming of its waves in my body.

 I ask the question.  I dread the answer. 

I am spiritually ailing…..

Full of redemptive hope, though.

A Balm for my current Malady

Braided Cable Fingerless Gloves.  A respite from a busy day.

Sometimes all I want to do is sit and knit. My hands start to itch at work when there is too much to do and too many voices and I am starting to feel a bit grumpy. At these times, I can best be treated with a small dose of knitting.



Yes, knitting is my prescription for grumpiness. Variations in strength and specific directions are needed for different emotional conditions. Now,  if I am feeling blue, its best if I knit in the round and do a straight stockinette. When agitated, I am better with a simple lace, not too much of a challenge but enough to be a little diverting, just enough to take the edge off. But there are other times, when I am desprate for a respite and some balm of comfort is desperately sought.  Its at these times I want a substantive, detailed piece of work to feed my spirit and calm my nerves. A good cabled piece is good for this. Perhaps a sweater project. using a very soft yarn, like a merino silk blend or a Katmandu tweed (Cashmere blend)

With boredom, comes the need for a more challenging course of treatment. Normally a definitive prescription when a sense of accomplishment is the objective. . That’s when I bring out the Lace chart, stitch markers, and lifelines. I prepare myself for a challenge in making the puzzle come together with a pattern becoming ingrained in my brains synapses. A rhythm starts to be first indentified, then made normal, then become so secondary that my fingers know its course, even if my brain decides to go elsewhere for the duration.

Its for these reason, I argue, there are normally 4-6 projects on the needles waiting for whatever state I am. I can face the stash cabinet, looking for just the right ministration to soothe and calm and steady myself. My stash closet acts as a medicine chest, a treasured one with tried and true tonics within either colorful or neutral, rough or strong, or soft or crisp.

A Traveling Sweater ... but the end of the road is illusive.

Traveling Down a Long Grey Highway - a knitted Woobu one

The Designer, Karen Alfke, said it (the pattern) is called Traveling Sweater because, like the pants of "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants", this sweater looks good on all who wear it.  However, I think its because by the time you complete the horizontal 2ft wide, 8 ft long strip which makes up the bulk of the item, it feels like one has travelled a very long road before finding its completion.  Since the color of my version resembles the gray asphalt of the street this metaphor is visually reinforced.

A great piece of cloth has resulted from this very marvelous yarn (Woobu) and pattern from Blue Moon FiberArts.  A tad of knitting was also involved in the transformation from skein, to gray strip to what I hope will become a sweater I will wear and appreciate on cool nights. The raw material is wrapped around me in the photo above.  I was most pleased.

But I have to resort to copying the picture of the completed sample created for the RAVELRY website because although I loved knitting the project, I have not yet spent time to actually complete seaming the pieces together so that it can be worn and I can't proudly model the sweater myself.

And this fact brings me to the dilemma of the kind of knitter I am and what it may or may not reveal about me as a person.

I love to knit and I knit often.  I like the feel of the knitting in my hands.  I love going to yarn stores, and enjoy talking about it and sometimes I write about it. I feel it settles me, keeps me centered and calm. But only about a third of my knitting results in products. And to a disturbing extent, given how much effort and resources are spent in this activity, I am ok with the lack of results.  I am reaching for the lesson this fact is supposed to teach me.

I would like a few more completed, knitted items.
This lesson will be continued.....

Walking through it

I walk home from work some or all the way most days during the milder months. I live about 7 miles from work in downtown Portland so when I walk the whole distance its a pretty good stretch of the legs.  There have been years when I could only manage a few blocks and would bus the rest of the way, and there were several years when I walked almost every weekday the entire seven miles. While this year I haven't walked as far nor as often as I would like, I still have walked a portion of the distance most days.  Whether I go a few blocks, a mile, or the whole distance I enjoy the changing of the seasons, and the changes I discover in me as I discover the moments of autumn or spring at dusk and early evening to be worth the walk.

My Brother visited me a couple of weeks ago in the hopes of seeing the Fall colors.  But in October the colors were just starting to form.  Now, at their peak, I keep getting distracted and want to caputure the colors to show him.  Alas, in two dimensions most of the awesome detail is missing.  Too bad one  can't hear the special sound of the breese through these trees or see the squirrels bustling around hurriedly hiding and burying as much as possible before the weather turns cold and wintry.

The longer the walk, the more I am able to mellow the edges of the day's jaggedness. As my pulse quickens and my breath deepens my view of the world expands beyond the limited scope of the days ups and downs.   Sometimes I start by willing myself to just place one foot in front of the other. Past experience has taught me that no matter how much I may be hurting when I start to walk, by the time I complete it the pain in my body will be back in its proper perspective. So I feel the ground under one foot and then another, with a quickening pace as my muscles start to lengthen and my thoughts start to sharpen.  I smell various meals being prepared by neighbors, and the perspective of my day widens. With a surety I allow comfort to wash over me provided with courtesy by gratitude.  Gratitude for whatever force or Higher Power that has made this moment, this frozen moment in time, possible.  I walk in the door of home, the warmth of the room touches me and I know that at least right now, in this place, at this time, everything is just fine. All it took was a little walk.  

Blog Interrupted

There are times when I look up after a spell of doing not much and with a start,  I realize I have been going through the motions.  Most of the time I work at making the most of life, but this past six months has NOT been part of my best work.  Odd , since I aspire to the tombstone that reads :SHE ALWAYS SHOWED UP to discover that its showing up that I am failing at right now.

There are intervals when I fail to appear, when I  fail to arrive fully into the potential God has provided.
So here, now with this blog which will wander through the cyberspace attaching itself to kindred braincells,  I offer this post as a way to commemorate  putting a foot in front of the other as I walk back into my life's lliving room.

Its not that I havent tried. Here are the titles of unfinished blogs from the past several months; amazing what they reveal
1.     Its All About learning to Let Go Really, Really Well
2     What advise would you give yourself at age 15?
3     My peculiar version of healthy living OR DETOXing my way
4      UNTITLED Masterpiece
5     A 30 year Survival award - Consolation Prize

Did not finish them.
_________________________________________________________________________

Its beginning to look like fall again, I glance around and realize its pretty good stuff, this life.  Maybe I'll jump in for a bit, walk along the road and kick a few leaves.

(Knitting wise, I have produced 4 almost finished sweaters. I knit vociferously.
 Just call me Madame Lana Lafarge (adapted from "A Tale of Two Cities")

Lana
10/3/2010

Its the Little Things

I had a clue today would be a good day when a few things fell in place just right this morning. There were enough to make a list:


1) My shoes AND bra were right where I first looked for them. This may not be the situation in your home but (I should be ashamed to admit) in mine it isn’t commonplace.


2) The dog didn’t bark loudly at the teasing squirrels at 5:00 am causing neighbors to shun me when going outside

3) The bird cooperated when I went to put her back in her cage. No screaming (the birds)and no blood (mine).

4) The garbage truck was late, giving me time to be decently dressed before making a dash out with the garbage and recycling containers. Not to mention an angry neighbor was not present (about the barking)

5) Driving into work I hit all the green lights and missed the construction crews.


6) Once in my building, the elevator went STRAIGHT up to my 11th floor. The security guard and metal detector…not a problem.


7) Instead of the meeting with an angry architect I thought was my first appointment, there was a birthday event for a staff person with delightful fresh fruit and homebaked poppy seed muffins.


8) The sun just came out and my to do list looks do-able.

9) ITS FRIDAY


I am expecting a VERY good day

A few of my Favorite THings?

Remember the Song  in the "Sound of Music?"  Here are Julie Andrews new words to the song which she coined to commemorate her 69th birthday and a reunion of the movie's cast.

A Few of My Favorite Things

Maalox and nose drops and needles for knitting,
Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings,
Bundles of magazines tied up in string,
These are a few of my favourite things.
Cadillac's and cataracts, and hearing aids and glasses,
Polident and Fixodent and false teeth in glasses,
Pacemakers, golf carts and porches with swings,
These are a few of my favourite things..
When the pipes leak, When the bones creak,
When the knees go bad,
I simply remember my favourite things,
And then I don't feel so bad.
Hot tea and crumpets and corn pads for bunions,
No spicy hot food or food cooked with onions,
Bathrobes and heating pads and hot meals they bring,
These are a few of my favourite things.
Back pains, confused brains, and no need for sinnin',
Thin bones and fractures and hair that is thinnin',
And we won't mention our short, shrunken frames,
When we remember our favourite things.
When the joints ache, When the hips break,
When the eyes grow dim,
Then I remember the great life I've had,
And then I don't feel so bad.

Overdo or Do Not at All? Are those my only choices?

Some have called it a fatal flaw, and others commend stamina and focus. Whether its a vice or a virtue is dependent on my current obsession. I can only evaluate the respective merit of my obsessions by their outcomes. For example, completing marathons was "good"---I became physically healthy. Drinking every night for 10 years was an addiction,---it caused me and loved ones pain. I do neither of those things now.

Although I value moderation and balance I seldom practice it. Or, conversely I practice it to such an extent I can behave obsessively balanced. Something like the "Fiddler on the Roof" constantly saying "on the other hand" I try to see the other perspective. Done in excess, keeping one's mind open like that limits one's ability to make a decision. That particular trait, when I venture into it, tends to fade in favor of a firmly held opinion. I am known to be a tad opinionated. Sorry to all I have offended. But I digress from my point.

The past few years I have been knitting, knitting with the same passion I once walked marathons and hiked mountains. Or the same passion I once volunteered for... well, way too many things. Unfortunately, current obsessions, like knitting, have meant that I have turned rather slug-like....slow, unhealthy and overweight. Knitting isn't the reason for this turn of events, its the doing of it instead of doing all those things that once enriched my life.

Now I want to strike out in a new direction. I don't know what direction I will next select and I lack a compass. Though I don't know where to point my foot, I am certain about what I want from the new track. I want deep breaths, laughter, and love, and fresh air, and color, and smooth movement. I want to feel good about the choices I make and the relationships with those I love. I want to know that each action and each decision I make is in the direction of making it better for others. I want and I choose.. a full healthy life.

Bit by bit, little by little, in the years left to me, I will try to build that life. First step. Cleanse my self of all that is not helping me to live well.

Perhaps its time to find balance.

I am still going to knit.

Duty, Privilege and Honor

"every right implies a responsibility; every opportunity, an obligation; every possession, a duty"- John D.Rockefeller Jr

In casual social circles these words are no longer commonly heard or uttered. If one does use these words, the folks standing around are apt to stand a little stiffer and mutter a platitude, others may shuffle uncomfortably.

I have almost completed thirty days of jury duty. We, a grand jury of seven, have completed the review and assessment of 130 major person-to-person felonies.We voted to indict most of them after hearing the evidence, watching the videos, examining the pictures, and questioning witnesses and victims. These cases included a tragic and appalling number of child sex abuse and pornography crimes, aggravated assaults, and severe examples of habitual domestic violence. These were in addition to several armed robberies, home invasions, and one officer involved killing. In spite of the rawness and sickening graphic-ness of these cases, the victims and the witnesses; I have been left in awe. I find myself wanting to wax poetic with these words--- duty, honor, and privilege . A few times I've expressed, or tried to, the depth and extent of my pride in our system, in our police force, and in our citizenry choosing to participate in this intense experience.

Maybe its because my attempts at sharing my experience have been clumsy. Perhaps my friends and family are uncomfortable with these topics as being just too painful. The cases are decided and details aren't to be shared, but I find the reticence I've seen in many to hear about the world around us unfortunate and troubling. Most of the people I talk with admit to watching programs which include stories similar in character to those reviewed by the grand jury, "Law and Order", and "CSI" among others present these stories as entertainment and are popular in prime time. But few want to hear abut these stories in their true setting, without a crisp and final solution at its end. Many have informed me of their efforts to avoid jury duty by deferring or making excuses to avoid serving if called.

It is true. The victims, and the offenders, flaunt pain and evil making it difficult to sleep some nights. However, the existence of the evil horrific images not created by TV directors reveal more than their own evil.

There is another way to look at this real world though. In this gritty world we live, evil and pain provide nourishment for profound acts of kindness, as well. The pain clearly present in the thirteen year old hooker confessing her two years on the streets, or the woman kept in violent dehumanizing bondage for seven years, was softened by concerned police, compassionate volunteers, social services staff, and courageous witnesses and involved bystanders. The District Attorneys work with deliberate commitment to our system of justice, practice a personal discipline in efforts to balance their lives with beauty. One assistant DA paints beautiful pictures, another revels in his children. While working, the 80 assistance district attorneys working in Multnomah County of Oregon relentlessly pursue justice, but they also treat the victims with compassion and with respect. They exercise this compassion although they have no illusions and freely accept the clay in the feet of those they interview. Then there are the volunteers working for CHIERS to provide warmth and comfort to the homeless, mentally ill and chronically sick with alcoholism, addiction, and desperation.

I think we feel uncomfortable when confronted with the evil in our world for many reasons beyond the ugliness of the images. We feel humbled by the huge scope of evil so far beyond the ability of isolated individuals to rectify.

In spite of the ugly horror of the crimes I learned about, or the apathy and reticence of many average citizens I was also impressed by so many. In those halls of justice God's Grace is vibrantly revealed as well as our shame. The shame we as members of the community should feel when confronted with the palpable evil we have allowed to proliferate.

POSTSCRIPT O by the way, during jury duty one can get a great deal of knitting accomplished. Completed one pair or socks, one triangle scarf and 1/2 of a Central Park Hoodie Cardigan.