April 3, 2024
It can be a challenge in life to
hang onto those ideals that are core ideals and release those notions that
really don’t matter all that much at all.
When I listen to different
opinions throughout the day, there are certain things I notice. I was listening
to a discussion just a few days ago, and the panel members—every one of them in
their thirties to forties, agreed that technological and societal change, along
with politics and life in general lately was not just confusing at times, it
was downright exhausting.
Hearing that was a relief for
me because I sure as hell have noticed the exhaustion factor. It’s always a
good thing to discover you’re not alone in whatever emotions are coursing
through you at any given time. That said, I have no doubt that the growing
sense of confusion and exhaustion that I feel occasionally is exacerbated by
getting older. Aging does bring changes, but it doesn’t necessarily bring the
same changes to all folk equally.
For example, I’m going to be
70 on my next birthday. And yet there are a few women in this area several
years older than me who take daily walks, who make tracks like nobody’s
business. There are also some who can’t recall the day of the week, and other
who can still mentally navigate very complex problems.
Since I’ve been having
mobility issues for more than thirty years, I used to hope that meant that
while my body might let me down as I got older, my mind wouldn’t. That was naïve
of me. The truth is, there’s really no way to know for certain just how aging
is going to affect us, individually. All we can do is to keep on going and pray
for the best.
I also recommend getting
yourself a cane, whether you need one to help you walk or not. First, it can be
helpful on days that you’re a bit more tired and a little less steady than
usual to have something solid to lean on. A secondary benefit? You can do a lot
of things with a cane besides walk. You can reach things off the top shelf of
the grocery store, or you can poke younger family members who begin to treat
you as if you’re old and feeble.
Easter has come and gone, and this
year, we had young ones who stayed over night and did fret some that the Easter
Bunny might not find them. We of course assured them that, magical rodent that
he was, that was not going to be a problem. The added bonus for us was that
there were colored hard boiled eggs in the hose for the Bunny to hide—and for
one great-grandmother to nibble on.
I did spend some time over the
holiday thinking back to Easter when I was a child. There was the pretty dress,
coat, socks and shoes, along with a hat—all brand new and all uncomfortable as
hell—to be worn to Church on Easter Sunday. And there was the inevitable munching
of those hard-boiled eggs, one for each of us, on the drive home again.
Easter used to be the marker
for spring, for the semi-annual change of the wardrobe. Away went the black or
brown purses, and out came the white ones. One used to wear certain colors only
in the spring—and certainly not after Labour Day, the other marker.
There’s been a bit of a kerfuffle
in the news the last few days about those who, in public life, do or do not respect
the Holy season. And here’s where we have to separate out the core ideals I
mentioned at the beginning of this essay. Because the minutia doesn’t really
matter.
It’s the spirit and the heart
and the kindness that matters most of all.
We are all of us, in one way
or another, in need of kindness. So let’s do our part and offer some of that far-too-rare
commodity of kindness up.
Especially to those who, to
our discernment, have no idea what kindness is.
Love,
Morgan
https://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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