As I Age . . .

I am rounding out my 40th year. I know for many, this age is disconcerting, but it hasn't been for me. In fact, I have very much enjoyed this year. I guess I see myself kind of like a bottle of really good Cabernet. I improve with age. However, the aging process has caused some reflection on my part.*

As this year comes to a close and the big four-one draws nearer, I have been thinking about how I have changed as I have gotten older.

• I care less about how I look and especially how much I weigh. That might not always be a good thing.
• I care more about what I do with my mind. I don't mean intellectually. I am more mindful not only about my actions but about my thoughts as well.
• I love my hometown more and more every year. I used to mumble if people asked me if I was a Native Nevadan, but not anymore. I feel more tied to my school as well.
• I am happier. For a variety of reasons. One is that I have creative outlets that in my twenties I didn't have (it's amazing what some patterned paper and some ink can do for a girl). Another is that I have more love in my life. I have children and a husband whom I adore and some good, solid friendships.
• Because I am more financially secure, I feel more . . . well . . . secure. I don't have to stress over every Hero Arts stamp I buy or order only appetizers and water when I go out with friends. Money does buy a certain freedom from stress.
• I become increasingly curious about my heritage. I haven't started digging through the books of the Mormon church yet (yes, my maternal grandmother was raised Mormon), but I am asking more questions about my family and wanting to write down the stories I do remember, such as my great uncle having to tie his horse every morning at school or my Grandma Laird's memory of walking home and seeing a fire in the distance, only to discover that it was her own house on fire and that her mother was dead.
• My requirements for a car have changed drastically. I now want **gasp** a minivan. Yes, a soul-killing, mojo-depleting minivan. But it will mean I can fit my kids and their friends in it. I can't even fit three booster seats in the back of my car. And I would do anything for a GPS device (though that's not a sign of me changing - I have always been directionally impaired. I still get lost right here in the town I grew up in. Just this Saturday I got lost taking my son to a birthday party).
• I care less about what people think of me, though I am not going to lie - there are still days I am that sixteen-year-old girl feeling the need to please others. Still, the desire to please diminishes every year, and oddly, the more that happens, the kinder I become. And I do things others think I shouldn't, like talk about the "shit fields" with my students or let them use their phones to send me messages via Poll Everywhere's web site during class. If it works educationally, I am doing it.

This makes me wonder, how have you changed as you've aged?

Me in 2004 with the hubby and the first-born.

Me in 2011 with the teachers from Oklahoma and Hawaii.

*What am I saying? EVERYTHING causes reflection on my part. I live my life in reflection mode. But that's a beside the point.

And One More Disclaimer (aka Getting Real)

All of my reflections on the best of 2009 makes me feel a little fake, like The Cosby Show, where no one has any problems that can't be solved in a half-hour with commercials and a good, ole down-to-earth chit chat with dad that always ends with a sweet, funny one-liner.

Despite all my chatter about peace and happiness, I still have a terrible problem with taking things personally. Like when my friends give away the spices I made them for Christmas or when my husband rolls his eyes in delight at my friend's Christmas candy, but won't even bother to break open the spices I ground and mixed and bottled. Like when my friend shows up a half hour late to use my shower at o-dark thirty in the morning without acknowledging the tardiness of the arrival or the fact that I got up at 5:30 on a Saturday to sit and wait for her to show up. Like when my brother and his wife don't show or call or mention the invitation to my child's birthday party. Like when my friend tells my daughter that "it's okay if she doesn't believe in God, but she should respect other people's beliefs," as if my daughter is some kind of freak who needs to respect but not be respected. Like . . . well, I need to quit this because my blood pressure is rising, and it's just not healthy, and I'm starting to see my life as more of a Roseanne episode than a Cosby episode.

Yup. Maybe for 2010, the goal ought to be to learn to not take things personally, cuz I got issues with that. I mean, I'm hauling this crap around like I'm Santa and it's my bag-o-goodies, only the goodies are for me and they aren't so good after all.

Back from Flu Hell

Because our sangha recently discussed suffering, we had the homework assignment of paying attention to suffering. Instead of thinking I am suffering, we could think There is suffering or This is suffering. I spent the week contemplating this thought and was surprised how often I saw suffering. Now, for the non-Buddhists out there, you should know that suffering is a general term that applies to true suffering, dis-ease, discontentment, desire, and so-on. It's a pretty broad spectrum, and the idea is that suffering is caused by attachment. When what we are attached to isn't present, we suffer. So of course the trick is to ditch the attachment and thereby ditch the suffering.

I "suffer" a lot, but I don't suffer much at all. So I spent a week thinking about how I am attached to a lot of different things.

Then my son got the stomach flu. Then I got the stomach flu. Then the husband got the flu, although not the stomach flu. It was a beast, let me tell you. And my perspective on suffering has changed. There's nothing like a good 48 hours of pure misery to remind yourself that life is pretty darn good the other 363 days of the year. It was a great lesson in appreciating the simple things in life as well as in letting go of attachment.

* * *

Thanksgiving is coming, and the local Unity Church is hosting a inter-faith Thanksgiving thanks-giving. I'm looking forward to it. My girlfriends and I are going. We rarely get to do anything like this together, since we are all of different faiths - Catholic, Buddhist, Methodist, Episcopalian. I'm looking forward to a little girl's night out and a little thoughtful thanksgiving at the same time.

Writing in Books

So one day not long ago, one of my friends picked up one of my books and gasped in shock as she flipped through it. She had seen my writing this book. This started a discussion.

My friend is an amazing poet. She reads voraciously (as voraciously as a mother of two lil' ones can). Although she is now a computer teacher, she is also a certified English teacher. She loves books.

I don't really read voraciously, and I'm a horrible poet, but I do love books.

The interesting thing is that our perspectives on the issue of writing in books were polar opposite:

She, loving books, sees writing in books as destroying something valuable, not valuable in a monetary sense, but valuable in an this-is-important-to-my-life sense.

I, loving books, see writing in books as engaging in a conversation with the author. The amount of writing in a book can often indicate how engaged I was with its content.

For her, it's destruction. For me, it just enriches the experience.

Lots of Pics

This picture was taken at my friend's wedding. It was a lot of fun. She's from the Ukraine, and he's from Uzebikstan. We were pretty much the only nonRussian-speaking folk at the wedding. The Russians were funny and had a lot of fun wedding traditions. We were lucky enough to have a Russian sitting at our table translating and explaining. I'm the one in the center.
I took way too many pictures yesterday of my kids as they played in the spring-like weather.