wet and windblown

December 2, 2009
7:30-8:40 a.m.

Just in case we needed more direct evidence of the power (and necessity!) of collaboration, let me acknowledge that my dear friend and colleague David has been holding down the fort single-handedly for the past several weeks. You may not have noticed that I’ve been missing from the Intentional Aging Collective for awhile, but I have noticed that I’ve been missing, and I’ve sure felt my absence, and quite acutely! Since September when we launched this space, I’ve grown accustomed to the sweet pleasure of having a place to engage in ongoing conversations about our shared journey of traveling through this strange life together and our exquisite potential for deep development.

Lest you think I’ve had a dry period in terms of intentional aging inspiration, in fact the opposite is true—I’ve had a rainy period, a deluge of experiences. If you’ve seen me lately you know I’m all wet and windblown (I’m pretty sure when Tash dropped by my office yesterday and witnessed me trying to return voicemail messages in between an endless string of meetings, she noticed my eyes were spinning and I was rather disheveled.).

As I write this posting, I’m doing so in small segments as I race around getting the morning started—dog to walk in the full-moon dawn, lunches to make, clothes to iron, fifteen minutes (not enough!) of meditation, teenager to wake up three times and invite gently into the day…once I get started writing, I don’t want to stop, I don’t want to be interrupted by these “mundane” activities! Not to mention that today is not a day (no day is for me) to be running late—so many meetings to attend once I arrive at the university. Bad combination—being possessed by the muse on a day when there’s little time to entertain her!

My daughter is up now and wondering if she could have the cup of tea I said I was making for her over fifteen minutes ago. (As I make her belated cup of tea I remind myself that part of the commitment to learning to live intentionally is to be mindful of where we are and what we are doing!) Okay—more later.
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11:50 while eating my lunch in my office:

I’ve started many postings in my little brain – some that were might have had some potential – but time and energy, the stuff of this universe, have been in short supply for me recently, and so getting the ideas out of my brain on onto the blog has seemed impossible.

Some days recently it has been all I could do to get out of bed as my chronic intestinal condition has been so painful. Some days recently it has been all I could do to do anything besides sit on the couch next to my daughter, who was swooning with a high fever from the swine flu. Some days recently I have felt so heavy with worry for my mommy that my brain has seemed to shut down temporarily.

Also in recent days – early this morning, in fact – I've experienced moments of such staggering beauty, the profound, fleeting thrill of being aware of my present experience: watching the blue heron rise from the cold stream and fly off in a big arc, first to the north, then looping around to the south-west; glimpsing my daughter’s sleepy face as she emerged from bed; acknowledging to my dog as he follows me around the house after our walk and his breakfast that he is a brilliant creature and that I, too, enjoyed our time together; admiring my new haircut, the way my the streaks of silver in my dark hair are almost all the way grown in; noticing while sitting in a two-hour meeting how varied and lovely my colleagues are in mind, body and spirit.

So, that’s what I got to say for today, and maybe also for tomorrow and the next day. And any way, it is almost time for the next meeting!

Hope you are all well and enjoying whatever moment you are in.

--Jenny