tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12753005969080128932024-03-04T22:13:13.065-08:00The Intentional Aging CollectiveJenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.comBlogger143125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-29538948301649775652013-01-16T15:45:00.002-08:002013-01-17T12:58:38.699-08:00Money and Time
If a country is governed wisely...
People enjoy their food,
take pleasure in being with their families,
spend weekends working in their gardens,
delight in the doings of the neighborhood.
-- Tao Te Ching
There is a lively debate going on nationally lamenting the tragic decline in our morality and values. In politics we ask where are our traditional values of honesty, courage, and David Rozellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099444372405944057noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-38915315553819299532012-09-05T21:13:00.000-07:002012-09-06T04:37:07.744-07:00white plastic wash basin<!--[if gte mso 9]>
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I’ve been working on this particular memory for the past
handful of weeks. The memory crept from the right side of my mind, Jenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-5321112408635833582012-08-29T14:49:00.000-07:002012-08-29T14:49:21.309-07:00In between
By guest blogger Erica Wells
Life took an unpleasant detour last week,
and in response, I began taking stock of my current situation. This
activity of taking stock was less a physical task and more of an
emotional endeavor. I searched heart, soul and mind, curious to see if
reserves of strength or energy might emerge that would propel me through
my crummy circumstances. Because so much Jenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-74233611864988513652012-08-19T22:12:00.000-07:002012-08-19T22:12:01.105-07:00Ten Minutes with John
By Guest blogger Susan Cain (Self-proclaimed "Sometimes weary but recently enlightened life course traveler.")
Tired from a turn-around trip that began with a 6:15 am
flight out of Portland,
I waited at San Jose Terminal B, gate 23 for my return flight on Southwest.
Together with my business partner, Patrick, we had spent much of the past week
preparing for the new business meeting that Jenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-43038165679237604222012-08-17T21:12:00.000-07:002012-08-17T21:12:55.871-07:00mid-summertime pause, reflect, recommit
I've asked these questions, or some variation of them, before -- many times! And it occurs to me on this hot mid-summer's night that now is a good time to ask them once again.
So, here I go--
Why commit one’s self to intentional aging? (Why commit one’s self to the discipline of intentionality?) Why “intentionality” and not something else?
How does practicing intentionality allow us
Jenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-26762710817232332732012-08-14T21:16:00.000-07:002012-08-14T21:16:46.131-07:00Spirit of '45
This evening I attended a summer party hosted by Mary’s
Woods, the continuing care retirement community next door to the
university. The event, the theme of
which was 1945, took place on campus, and when I arrived five minutes before
the time the event was to begin, I found ancient folks in period attire milling
around enjoying cocktails while a big band played historically appropriate
Jenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-13757295051067244342012-08-11T20:35:00.000-07:002012-08-12T08:30:20.570-07:00Dear Aliza
Dear Aliza Mizrachi Keddem,
I suspect the first time you met me – was it 13 years ago? –
you wondered what on earth qualified me, just a little girl to you, to be your
“boss,” the Chairperson of the department at Marylhurst University in which you
were teaching sociology as an adjunct instructor. So, that was the first of
several things we had in common, as I wondered the same thing! I Jenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-21891560310223986902012-08-06T21:52:00.000-07:002012-08-07T10:08:18.575-07:00Dave
I hadn’t seen Dave in well over a year though I had wondered
about him periodically, kept my eyes open for him whenever we were at the park. Then this past Tuesday while on a run with
Happy, there he was, I saw him again, walking from the opposite direction
toward us, unmistakably Dave.
The first time Dave and I met each other was April 10, 2011.
I didn’t want to forget the Jenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-58022305999690126502012-08-02T09:56:00.000-07:002012-08-02T09:56:25.565-07:00A Happy lesson
A couple of days ago something happened between me and one
of my close-in humans. I had a surprisingly strong reaction to what happened.
My feelings felt really hurt. I’m still
experiencing the residual effects, like a strange energetic aura vibrating
around all of my thoughts, feelings and actions. I didn’t like my initial
reaction of feeling hurt and I struggled not to retreat into Jenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-43673856601341376542012-07-30T21:05:00.000-07:002012-07-30T21:05:53.108-07:00Contemplative Gerontology: Thank you, Gramma Goose
Feeling warm nectarine juice dripping down my chin; watching
chickadees snatching seeds before the jays can monopolize the bird feeder;
getting caught in the mingling sexy scents of the trio of tomato plants, I
remember the bit of text from Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek that Isobel’s father and I borrowed to use
on her birth announcement: “…A single
cell quivers at a windy Jenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-56791422537340031092012-07-27T14:26:00.000-07:002012-07-27T14:26:23.333-07:00Growing Pains<!--[if gte mso 9]>
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mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4ptJenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-87592364719145873712012-07-26T14:20:00.000-07:002012-07-26T14:20:14.305-07:00The summer after Fred died, continued<!--[if gte mso 9]>
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mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4ptJenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-88916989394884844112012-07-25T14:44:00.000-07:002012-07-25T14:44:14.260-07:00Intentional Aging Redux<!--[if gte mso 9]>
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mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4ptJenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-51991995756485293292012-07-24T15:21:00.000-07:002012-07-26T12:13:40.662-07:00The summer after Fred died
Fred was my across-the-street neighbor, and then my friend, and only later in
our time of knowing each other, the year before his physical health began to decline dramatically, my gardening partner.
Fred was about twice my age, and in the spring and summer of 2009 I
began to notice that he was slowing down and getting dizzy climbing the tall
ladder to pick figs from the uppermost Jenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-21610732390057238642012-07-17T16:51:00.000-07:002012-07-17T16:51:27.718-07:00Traveling Together<!--[if gte mso 9]>
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mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4ptJenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-60260271043965582922012-07-16T20:57:00.000-07:002012-07-16T20:57:38.165-07:00Gero-Fragments (or time-traveling back to 2003-04)<!--[if gte mso 9]>
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mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4ptJenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-8543173133473363582012-07-12T19:28:00.000-07:002012-07-12T20:40:02.234-07:00Thanks for the compliment, but I left some stuff out...
So, evidently there’s more to say about my last blog piece
titled “We ain’t no puppies (but thanks for the compliment.)". It has been made known to me by my number one fan that it may not have been apparent enough to the
reader that the title was meant to be ironic. I admit, had I thought of the title
sooner than after I’d written the piece and was itching to post it, I may have
spent Jenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-64810027758065416402012-07-08T20:42:00.003-07:002012-07-12T20:41:08.849-07:00We ain't no puppies! (But thanks for the compliment.)
On our walk this evening Happy
was once again mistaken for a puppy. When
we found him at the Oregon Humane Society in 2006 he was thought to be at
least one year of age, which means that by now he’s at least
seven-going-on-eight. This makes him older than I am by a few years, and I ain’t
no puppy!
Happy is routinely mistaken for a
puppy, and when this happens I always respond with Jenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-52742110663678648672012-07-05T18:45:00.000-07:002012-07-05T18:45:01.639-07:00Contemplative Gerontology, continued<!--[if gte mso 9]>
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mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4ptJenny Sasserhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08670705132785879293noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-90435932996018672172012-01-15T10:49:00.000-08:002013-01-16T14:42:06.205-08:00Reaching Out
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I often hear people my age and even younger lament that being young in this society is easy. And being older is David Rozellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099444372405944057noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-37050608074315164752011-12-26T10:12:00.000-08:002011-12-30T09:40:10.460-08:00New Year's Wish
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The David Rozellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099444372405944057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-20635736089374082572011-10-20T21:13:00.000-07:002011-10-20T21:20:24.638-07:00Speed and Pace In Life
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The modern world is filled with instant access to anything and anyone at any time and pressure to multi-task and produceDavid Rozellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099444372405944057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-29270668877903810072011-09-24T06:00:00.000-07:002011-09-24T06:00:02.903-07:00What is an Elder - Part III found this quote in a recent article by Michael Meade. I offer it here as a piece to contemplate and maybe as inspiration. Thanks to Ken Pyburn for sending the article.
"An old idea suggests that the only ones more idealistic than young people are the elders. It’s not that the elders naively believe that the great ideals of humanity, peace and justice, healing and compassion, are David Rozellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099444372405944057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1275300596908012893.post-36956215333007693952011-09-14T06:00:00.000-07:002011-09-14T06:00:17.488-07:00Mature Conversation About Aging
I continue to be amazed by the level of excitement and interest generated by a good question. In my coaching practice and in the classroom I use questions to provoke discussion or thinking outside the box. But not until recently have I become aware that I too have a need for discuaaion and conversation and sharing of wisdom around topics related to my own aging process.
Depending on the David Rozellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00099444372405944057noreply@blogger.com1