Big Questions, Shifting Answers
It’s been twelve years this month since I arrived back in Washington, to the home of my childhood, after thirty-six years as an expat in the Southeast. If you have read Mother Lode, you know the intention was to help my mother move to assisted living that first year, where I would not abandon her, but also I would not be living in my childhood home permanently. But I didn’t have a plan. Inertia is not your friend when you want something to happen.
It used to feel like there was time to make big ideas come to fruition, but this third act thing is kinda kicking my butt. I’ve had a foot issue lately I thought might curtail my hiking, and I’ve been wearing knee straps again on the trail (and off). It’s not just the physical stuff though, right? Are you with me? It’s the urgency—real or perceived—that time is of the essence to try a new creative thing or take that big trip or learn to play pickleball.
What I’m struggling with is where I want to spend however many vibrant years I have ahead. Do I want to stay in the beautiful home on the hill my parents built and that has unexpectedly been my home for the past twelve years? There are certainly very sound reasons to stay. Or do I want another adventure in living. I’ve never, in my 72 years, lived in one house this long, and I’m restless. There are other things I want before I’m old-old.
I spent some time recently with my friend Joanna who is a practitioner of tarot wisdom. I asked her to do a reading with me (my first with a professional). The questions we asked are “should I stay?” and “should I go?” Three cards for each question, with a remarkably clear message. Put simply, the first two cards for the first question were each a contemplative elder (both men) looking peacefully into the distance, the third card was the wheel of life. Nothing bad, all would be well if I stayed . . . and it felt like contentedly waiting for the last breath.
The second set were a young woman hiker looking toward adventure (yes, “the fool” in a traditional deck), a young woman looking into a well as if asking “what’s next?,” and the third an elder man (“the teacher”) peaceful and smiling. It made my heart leap up. The interpretation: all would be well either way, but if I want something other than just living out my days, I should pursue the dream of moving toward a future that doesn’t feel easy or quite safe, and to see what else I have to offer the world.
“To not look for what is next would be like going into a library and not checking out a book. Life is a library, with endless stories waiting for us to slip inside,” (Claire Henley Miller, Mile 445: Hitched in Her Hiking Boots).
I’ve done hard and courageous things all my adult life. I’m proud of most of them. Not everything went as planned or as expected, but sometimes letting go of what you thought would be allows destiny to unfurl.
I’ve crossed streams on the trail before, I know how to do it scared. I’ve stood at the edge and scouted a route. I’ve tentatively poked a trekking pole into rushing water and felt the kick as the current flings it out. I’ve taken a deep breath and punched both poles hard into the rocky creek bottom, anchoring them into solid ground, and stretched—or even leapt—to the next rock or gravel bar. I’ve let my breath out while eyeing the next landing spot, taking as long as I needed. I’ve done it again and again until I reached the other side safely. I’ve also seen when the risk is too great and honorably turned back.
I don’t know how this will turn out; but step-by-step, my plan is to
make my way to the other shore. Maybe I will turn back, and that is not a
failure if it’s for sound or inescapable reasons. But I don’t want to
“chicken out” without giving the idea breath.
Here’s to dreaming and courage and to what we can figure out. One step at a time. As always, I would love to hear from you. What questions are you grappling with? Are you settled in for the duration or pondering a new experience? I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
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(Photo credit: Bonnie Rae Nygren, InSearchOfTheVery.com)
You are an inspiration, Susan! “I need to start saying, ‘Yes!'” We can choose the life we want. But we do have to pursue it, it rarely just falls into our lap. Thank you for sharing your story.
Since we moved 10 years ago I have no desire to move again, but 10 years in, I am feeling that same itch. We are right now planning a month in Spain, postponed in 2020, and now waking up and saying, we better get to it, like, NOW! The wheels are falling off, I am planning a different trip than when I was 20 or 40 or even 65. We’ll move slower, take longer, and look for different things.
A friend of mine is moving, but has to keep in mind being closer to healthcare options. That’s the reality, isn’t it? I look forward to hearing where “the other side” will be for you, a complete relocation, or travel and adventure (with an elder flare) with a return to home base.
You have probably made that “last good move” I still anticipate. The one years ago was always meant to be the intermediary one to get me on the other side of the country. On the other hand, I have lost all desire for international travel. Maybe if I had a companion. We’ll talk someday about the where! “Tick tock” seems always to be echoing in my head now.
What a loaded post! I realize for myself that these questions have come to me over and over in different ways most of my life. Enough so that it has made me question my very idea of what a path is. I have spent most of my life believing that I controlled my destiny, believing that my choices were all powerful and I actually knew what the path should look like and where that path was heading. Such rubbish. Here are my hard truths: I have spent a lot a lot of time in a state of want. I convinced myself that, whatever answer I wanted from whatever I perceived the question to be, was somewhere in the future or was taunting me from the past. I looked back too often and forward with way too much longing. I pursued people who didn’t see me and was disappointed when at the end of that rainbow were dozens of “no’s”. And still I persisted. A fool’s errand.
In the last few years I have become aware that life isn’t “back there” or “up ahead”. Life is in this very moment. I am trying to ditch the storylines and quit believing that if I just do this or that, my life will be better. Or right. Or different. What’s true is that I got really good at the art of distraction. Now, I am practicing what it is to be attentive. I’m embracing a “pause practice” that has me stopping frequently to take three deep breaths and return over and over to the moment. I’d be lying if I said I was somehow “good at it”. I’d also be lying to say I do it in the moments it would be most beneficial. It’s a practice, after all, and I love myself enough to cut myself some slack. Forever beginning. Forever a beginner.
I am happy to note that I was there for that stream crossing you describe. It may read like a metaphor but I was there for that very real thing . I saw the determination, I watched you process what was happening in those moments and I watched you step into that decision with confidence and pluck. What you didn’t have was a plan ahead of time (there was no way to know exactly what that crossing would look like to you) and you trusted yourself in that very moment to make a bold step forward. So empowering to witness! I think sometimes the answers come best when we appreciate the moments we are in without attachment to an outcome one way or another. Our friend Nancy reminded me of something awhile ago that has tattooed itself on my DNA. To paraphrase: the trouble rarely lies with having a plan. The trouble lies in the attachment to it.
I feel like the world is determined to rile us up and maybe our best defense is in really getting to know who we are away from the wreckage of the past and the uncertainty of the future. I will keep practicing those three deep breaths and leaning into the sharpness of the moment. Right and wrong, success and failure are all part of a storyline that fails to serve any real purpose. I’m not sure how it is for you but of the best things that have ever happened to me, not one was the result of a perfectly (or even imperfectly) executed plan. I think of that a lot as I feel myself lurching forward. I know aging can make us believe that time is short, but what if it really doesn’t even exist? A clock is evidence of nothing. It’s just a clock. Thank you for writing from the heart. I see you. I hear you. I love you. Onward.
Yes, you were there! And had you not been, I’m quite sure I would have turned back. I pretty firmly believe that if you don’t have a plan, someone else will make one for you. That someone else could also be you. You the naysayer. You the afraid. You the inert. And I fully embrace letting go of attachment. You make a plan for a hike, then the morning of there’s wildfire smoke and you let the plan go. But I would not have moved across the country without a plan to do so, a plan made years in advance so I could get used to the idea, a plan I almost scuttled. I’m so glad I didn’t. The best things in life are probably those done in the spur of the moment. But most of the hard things, the really big things, need a plan—for me anyway.
Oh my gosh, when I read your latest I felt as though you were talking to (or maybe about) me. Currently I find myself mired in soul searching and unable to decide what direction to choose. At the same time I am anxious about all of it as I am hyper aware that “this is it” because I am old(er) and quite aware of the limitations of time and future. Thanks for sharing your thoughts and experiences.
I think there are more of us than we know. There are so many decisions we want to make, before they are made for us. It’s a struggle, especially in elderhood. I think my mother was both happy to be in this house I’m in now, and stuck. I don’t want to be stuck. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. We are not alone!
For me, a cancer diagnosis sent me into new territory. At 78, I have a strange new path. Totally unfamiliar and scary. My attitude has become more of why not try something. I might like it. I might not, but I’ll know instead of wonder about it. So, a train trip in the fall to new places, a sewing class I’ve wanted to try for years, making a quilt for myself to use when I have immunotherapy transfusions……. I’ve no idea what I’ll do next, but I’ll do something.
This approach may seem scattershot, but it reminds me of what I did for the children. Try out stuff and see what you like. If it causes a happy feeling, you’re doing something good for yourself.
For me, no experience is ever wasted.
Oh, I’m also hoping to do a retreat in Iona.
I think it’s a perfect approach, Gail. And if you never do it again, that’s fine. One doesn’t have to become an expert at a thing, dabbling in this and that is a fine goal, regardless of age and circumstance. And there is no time like right now to do it. I’m so happy to know you. We are rocking elderhood. And I certainly hope cancer becomes a once and done thing; certainly no need for expert status there. xoxo
Iona is the perfect place for the kind of exploration you’re dreaming of! Not a “doing” adventure, but a “being” one.