The year 2025 is approaching its end, but it is not yet here. Days are shorter, and the light continues to decrease. It will arrive soon, but not today. As I write, it is cold outside, and I am wearing a thermal top and a vest to keep warm. I am not a winter person; I like sun and warmth and running around without heavy clothes, but there is something about this time of year that makes me reflective. T.S. Eliot's quote "Time present and time past / Are both perhaps present in time future, / And time future contained in time past" comes to my mind. Time changes on clocks and calendars, but it often does not synchronize with my internal perception of it.
I have been having trouble with my feet and saw the podiatrist yesterday. I have arthritis, which has affected my toes and created bunions and deformity that affects my walking. My mother died at the age of 70, so I never knew how her feet evolved, but she did have bunions. She and I had the same size feet, and I kept one or two of her shoes after she died. They were heels; she was short, as I am, and she lived in the days when orthotics were ugly and high heels were de rigueur. She always wanted me to wear “good” shoes that wouldn’t harm my feet and be misshapen like hers. I remember going with her to Edwards, the best shoe shop in Mt. Vernon, where I lived, and having my foot put into their fluoroscope to be properly fitted. We didn’t have much money, but Mom always saved so I could get the “best” shoes. The memory is vivid, and I smile, remembering her good intentions but the futility of the outcome. It seems genetics rules.
I am grateful that I can smile as I write about this, and a positive memory arises. At the same time, I have serious concerns about my future ability to maintain my balance and walk. A friend recently asked me about gratitude. She said, "You talk about it a lot. Do you always feel grateful?" I said, "Yes, but that doesn’t mean I never get upset.” My friend was disbelieving that I could maintain a grateful attitude. She felt gratitude was impossible if something bad was happening. I agree, when it’s bad, it’s bad, but being able to experience gratitude even if not at the moment tempers the bad and helps with recovery. It gives perspective. I’ve learned that NOT EVERYTHING IS BAD EVEN IF IT FEELS LIKE IT IS. Sometimes, there is nothing to do but surrender to what is…and give yourself the time, space, and compassion to acknowledge and accept what is true—especially when body/mind resists it.
Resist, and it persists is an expression often used in teaching mindfulness. Sometimes there is no choice but to let go of how we wish things were and open to what is. I discover this again and again. It was most dramatic when I needed oxygen to stay alive after I contracted pneumonia during my bone marrow transplant many years ago. Fear and anger create contraction. I needed to relax to breathe. This is still true and applies to little as well as big things, like getting stuck in traffic when you’re rushed for time. You don’t have to like it, is one of my favorite sayings, but you do need to acknowledge “just this”. Letting go of how we wish things were and grounding in the present moment provides more choices and a wider range of responses. Letting go and acknowledging “just this”... is freeing.
I was privileged to give Grand Rounds for The Center for Mindfulness and Compassion, which is part of Cambridge Heath Alliance, on December 1st. I was very touched and honored to be asked. I am very intimate with the topic: Aging Mindfully: Cultivating Acceptance. It incorporates my years of teaching MBSR (Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction) along with Jon Kabat-Zinn and others. It is a big topic, and at 82, it is not a theoretical subject. It is a major reason for starting our group. In doing research and thinking about aging and its challenges, I wanted to convey what I felt was most important. This is an age-old subject, and there is a lot of material. I wanted to speak from my experience professionally and personally. I also wanted to honestly represent what I’ve learned from you. To organize my thoughts and be clear and succinct, I spent a lot of time creating a PowerPoint to serve as a springboard for my talk. All was going well, and after I read, “ We are all subject to aging, illness, and death,” I found I could no longer see people, and I was talking to myself. I lost my internet connection, and it took me about 11 minutes to reconnect to it. I returned to the session once, using my phone for Wi-Fi, and I could see and hear Dr. Susan Pollack skillfully do a bodyscan to fill the time, but no one could see or hear me. I took another breath and tried my Wi-Fi again, and —it worked! Reconnecting to the session, I laughed—I felt what happened could be interpreted as a metaphor for life, it’s here—and then it’s not; Surrender! I let go of my slides in PowerPoint just in case it triggered the wifi cut-off and spoke from the heart. Shit happens—and here we are. How wonderful!!! Another moment…