Crone Writings
Below are some past writings by Crone Members:
In this Mother’s Day photograph, my parents are dressed well as they always were in public. Father, 85, wears his familiar old hat, a gray suit, and a brightly colored neck tie (which my mother clearly selected). He looks unhealthy and his expression is, sadly, not one of being alert nor engaged. Father is three years away from his sudden death of pancreatic cancer. My mother is a smiling and young 79. She would survive well in Seattle, just as she had adjusted to her new home in America, as a widow with many accomplishments until age 92
For me, taking a risk means stepping out of my comfort zone, either to expand my world in some way or to reach out into other worlds. In most cases these two ways overlap.
I’m essentially shy, so when I choose to connect with someone I’m taking a personal risk: they might not like me. I might not know what to say, or say the wrong thing. To expand my world, I need to trust that I am generally as likable as the next person, and to realize they may even wonder if I like them! It’s taken time and practice (and meditation :-}) to be able to open up to people, to put myself and my heart out there.
I like to think of myself as an artist, but it takes courage for me to show my creations. It has taken time for me to believe that what I create is good enough to show, that I could even enter a juried exhibit, or offer my work for sale. I risk criticism (or even rejection in the case of a juried show); if I show to sell, people might not buy, and that needs to be OK if I am going to step out.
On the other hand, I believe passionately in justice with compassion, and to act on this means I have to risk reaching out into another world. I am involved in jail ministry and am friends with several returnees from prison. My husband and I support the work of the Freedom Project which brings Non-Violent Communication into the prisons, and though we don’t go into prison ourselves – just into jail with religious services – we attend Freedom Project’s Community Circle every month, a support group made up of returnees, ordinary people from the community and the volunteers who go into the prisons. Being part of the community has been richly rewarding and opened my eyes to the hardships – and prejudice – endured by ordinary men and women who have been incarcerated for sometimes terrible decisions on their part. I value their friendship and am grateful for the risk we both take to connect.
To live fully, I believe, is to risk every day in some way, and involves a willingness to be open to life as it is, as much as possible without judgment of myself or others.
Maybe I’m too easily pleased, but I’m just so grateful for what I have. When I get to my beach place and sit down in front of the fire, I look around at my little cabin and wonder, “Who could ask for anything more?”
In the middle of my 95th year, I am especially grateful for my continuing good health. I know that could change just as other things have. But for now I’m grateful for every day I can get out on Green Lake with my walker, in love with the changing seasons, the people, the dogs, the babies, the whole thing just humming with life.
Yes, I have lost vision, but I can still see. No, I can’t read; and that was the love of my life. I can’t curl up with a good book like I used to and I miss it, but I don’t feel cheated. Look at the number of years I could curl up with a good book and did just that!
I have so much to be grateful for: my health, enough money to get by and three caring children – all now senior citizens. Not to mention, I have two nice places to live – my beach place (a lifelong dream come true) and an apartment in a comfortable retirement home across the street from Green Lake. I can’t think of anything else I need or wish I had. Which sounds strange – like there’s something the matter with me – that I could be content with such a simple life.
Perhaps out of deprivations comes appreciation for what you have. I grew up with next to nothing. We lived on a small Civil War pension in a house that cost $1500. We didn’t even have a radio. We went to the park. I had a kitten one time – these were big things in my life. And this carried on into the early years of my marriage. We went forest camping and pitched our own tent. That was the only vacation the family knew.
Maybe this is why I appreciate the simple pleasures in my life. In fact, I make it a practice to be grateful, because I don’t want the good things to go by unnoticed.
And speaking of gratitude, I’d like to think my son Dale for helping me write this piece.
Neon, rain-moistened moss is thrown into low relief by slanting sunbeams.
Glossy, magnolia leaves are almost brown underneath.
Leathery muted salal marches from side to side down rosy stems.
Almost-gray lichens define the limbs of the dogwood.
Predicting the returning light blossoms with a hint of chlorophyll appear on the hellebores.
The chartreuse February skunk cabbage flower emerges from a cradle where blue has a bigger role.
New growth on the awakening willow comes into focus as the sun highlights it against the gray lake.
Big leaf maple buds from afar seem to give the woods an emerald watercolor wash.
Regardless of season, verdant kitchen regulars delight the eye as well as the palate.
Bring on two-tone, two texture avocados, pale ribbed celery, dark crinkled kale, vibrant liberated peas.
Celebrate tone-on-tone honey dew melons, blushing apples, dimpled apples, dimpled limes, translucent grapes.
In B.C. times, not so ancient, but before Crone, I ran a little group called “Aging Gracefully”. We had wonderful discussion, but I gradually decided that while growing older may be filled with “power, passion, and purpose”, it is NOT terribly graceful. The group’s name changed to “Aging Gratefully.”
And grateful I am, on a daily basis. I still love to grumble and I am grateful that I can do so in an accepting environment; that my concerns are mostly petty ones.
I just read a stunning book for your people: A Long Walk to Water by Linda Sue Park, the true story about a young boy forced to walk from his war-torn home in southern Sudan to Ethiopia and then Kenya. The many hardships he faced on this long journey started with lack of water, especially water safe to drink. He became a “Lost Boy”, came to the U.S.. and now runs a program called Water for Sudan, which builds wells in remote villages. Talk about giving back! As I turn on the tap in the morning, I experience gratitude for the gift of abundant and safe water.
When I talk with friends and family, in person, on the phone, or over email, I am grateful for my ability to do so.
Grateful that it’s turning spring at last, grateful to live in Seattle, grateful to be retired and able to follow my passions. It’s a long and daily list.
People express gratitude in many ways as we grow up and grow old. I think we become more conscious of our gratitude in old age and with the help of friendly print and internet reminders from Oprah et al. Life is always precious, more so as we realize how finite it is.
Let’s all delete the mind garbage, leaving room for gratitude and its sister emotion, compassion.
And at the end of the day, especially if I have health worries, I am grateful to realize I will never die young!
I keep a gratitude journal. Each day I list at least five things that happened that day for which I am grateful. They be large or small, and many of them are “small” – the birds at the bird feeder and the delight they afford me in the morning, serendipity when timing works out for the errands I have to run, a latte in the midst of things, a coffee date with a friend. Sometimes they are big – skin cancer that has not spread beyond the one spot, a family getaway with my two nearly sons and my granddaughters, enough resources to afford a trip to see my other son in London, and the many friends I have through the groups to which I belong.
There are always times of stress or frustration in life, and for me my gratitude journal has become a kind of prayer – letting the feeling of gratitude for all these sometimes large, for often “small” things flow into and through me. It reminds me of what abundance there is in my live, regardless.
Have you had moments or days when you felt inadequate or hopeless? So have I, and when I remember to, I choose to focus on gratitude. Even when I feel like I have nothing to offer, making a list of the good things in my life often lifts me out of the doldrums. I don’t need big things to be grateful. Here are some gratitude’s that remind me that things aren’t so bad.
Samples at Great Harvest Bakery, my daughter Katie’s lasagna, the new blue panties my friend Char brought, with soap and flowers, after my kidney surgery, foot rugs, balk rubs, being held. The joy of leaning and discovering via Google.
How could I stay in self-pity when I have so much to be thankful for! Lucky me!
When Hazel, Barbara, and I decided to book the Road Scholar tour to Cuba I was excited and interested about what the country would be like. Very quicky after arriving in Havana I realized that I carried a lot of sterotypical attitudes about the “Communist Country” on our doorstep.
I had expected to find a lot of homeless people. Wrong! I expected that the people would be subdued and joyless. Wrong! I expected to see a lot of poverty and hunger. Wrong! By the end o the trip my image of Cuba and its people had revolved 180 degree.
Just the visual scenes negate any sense of joylessness. Even I Havana where there are a lot of derelict and crumbling buildings there is a riot of color. They are in the midst of a very long renovation project with the old colonial buildings. Wherever a building is intact, it is a bright, beautiful color.
Green gardens overflowing with colorful plants. Pedicabs with hand-painted colorful designs…the classic cars in every color of the rainbow… murals, both painted and mosaic tile on many walls. When I close my eyes and remember Cuba I see color everywhere!
When I think of the people one primary word comes to mind – HAPPY! There is live music everywhere – in the cafes, in the squares and just on the street corners. People on the streets are energetic, hurrying along, laughing and talking. I saw very few beggars. Everyone is neatly dressed and in current, modern fashion. We know that Cuban citizens have very limited incomes but they somehow manage to look good in their clothes. And I never saw a woman of any age that didn’t wear jewelry – earrings, necklaces, bracelets.
Our guide was hones in admitting that people get frustrated with the government restrictions but added (with a shrug) that people figure ingenious ways of getting around them too. And Cuban ingenuity is another aspect that I have great respect for. They can make almost anything from nothing! On the cattle ranch we visited they made their horseshoes from discarded rebar.
I had always seen Cuba as a police state but much of that seems to have been relaxed in the past several decades. Private enterprise in the form of small businesses is now encouraged. We had freedom to wander wherever we wanted in the cities and village we visited. There was no sense of police looking over our shoulders. In fact the government is energetically promoting tourism and are hoping the U.S. restrictions will end.
I am so grateful that I was able to visit this country and encourage anyone to think seriously about booking a tour. And a plug for Road Scholar – they really have it down to a flawless experience.