How on earth, almost fifty years after getting out of school, do I still get that familiar clenching in my gut as September looms ominously. I don’t have to go back to school, but that underlying dread still darkens the end of summer. And, I’d venture to guess, I’m not the only one who is affected like this.

            Sure, lots of kids like school and look forward to the end of their summer boredom. However, I think for many of us who have never really met boredom, this is not the case. I’m not inferring that school is bad. It just, for me, signifies a more rigid indoor routine which didn’t suit my nature.

            I do worry about children these days being cooped up inside for the majority of their waking hours—staring at screens and clicking keyboards. Not every kid has access to endless days out in nature, but I do think it’s our job as parents, grandparents, or friends to do what we can to provide ample opportunities for them to explore and learn on their own. Not everything can or should be “taught” and this undirected exploring is extremely valuable.

            Self-directed learning in any area can lead to knowledge and understanding that will prove useful in the future, often more than things learned from being “taught”. Linear learning has its drawbacks for sure, sometimes coming across as either dull or irrelevant. That’s how many children feel. This is a topic which requires much more time and space than I have here. So, I’d like to jump ahead to how this can influence us for the rest of our lives.

            If the desire to “learn” is squelched by the time we graduate then we are probably less able to fulfill our true happiness. I don’t think many of us can be all that happy if we cease to grow. And that requires learning. And figuring out“how” to learn. By natural exploration we often find that one thing leads to another and can become a journey of passion.

            After losing my mom and then practically every material thing we owned in the Cedar Fire, I became consumed with writing. At first it started as a log of events and then a sort of journaling. It turned into more after signing up for a UCSD memoir writing course, and then for the next five years I continued to write with the La Jolla Writers Group. In between rebuilding our house, running a dance studio, and maintaining our ranch and family, I wrote my chapters and joined my fellow writers for critiques and support. What absolutely flabbergasted me was when I got a similar type of high from writing as from dance and choreography. It was incredible. I happily embraced any kind of information needed to follow this new passion.

            In 2008 my memoir, A Canyon Trilogy: Life Before, During and After The Cedar Fire, was published. I lucked out in getting my article featured on the cover of The San Diego Reader and continued to write for other venues. This led to book signings, television appearances, radio segments… stuff that made me grow as a person. When younger, I thought I might write about dance once my body got too old to do anything else, but this writing thing just took over and led to more books and also just the sheer joy of writing. Looking back at how this all began, it’s hard to believe it was over twenty years ago. For me, it’s been a natural learning curve that keeps on going.

            I suppose this type of learning involves a leap of faith, of sorts. I’d never really done any of this before other than writing press releases for the Dance Centre and a few grant proposals. I jumped off my imagined ledge, just like a fledgling must do for its first flight. I do rather embrace the notion that there is no “trying,” just “DO”. What if it takes giving yourself a dare to DO something? Then—just do it! Of course, this does mean that whatever it is, it’s worth doing and is for the common good. Just sayin’.

Chi Varnado has published six books including fiction, nonfiction and children’s books. They are available onwww.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com.

She is available to adults and children for fun tutoring in writing. Her Plein Air Writers group meets from 10:00 to 11:00 AM at Dos Picos Park by the pond on the first and third Saturdays of August, and the second and fourth Saturdays in Old Poway Park on Midland Road at the picnic tables. If interested just show up with a $10 cash donation and paper and pen (or laptop) to follow your creative muse.

           A crone can refer to a wise, mature woman. One we look up to, at times, for spiritual guidance, wisdom or sage advice. On the flipside is the hag: unattractive, withered and unpleasant. But either way, we older women are seen as both— depending on whose perspective it’s from. Like it or not, this happens to all us females of the species lucky enough to have stayed alive this long.

            How about embracing our elderhood? We’ve made it this far on the top side of the ground so let’s celebrate it. Not everyone gets here. In many ancient cultures ‘the elders’ were greatly respected. Knowledge resides not in those young egos, but in the calm stillness of surviving, and hopefully thriving, over the long haul. It’s a time to cherish each minute, hour, day, year…

            Hey, you younger nymphs out there— don’t kid yourself. You can’t possibly have all the answers. You simply haven’t been around long enough. Find a worthy crone and be open to the idea that she may offer a broader perspective. Just an idea. Do with it what you feel is best. I just wish my parents were still around to ask the questions that are just now coming to mind. We’re so overwhelmed during our “sandwich years” (raising our own families, working at a career, and sometimes caring for an aging parent…) that we can’t even begin to formulate the questions we may have. Or to take the time to truly listen. Is this by grand design? If so, what a rotten trick. Whatever the reason, we’re always left with so much to figure out on our own.

            But there are resources out there. Many of them. And some would love the opportunity to provide this helpful service. Just ask and be receptive to perhaps a different take on things.

            We crones now have the opportunity to be connoisseurs of “New”. We have a fresh freedom unleashed within us to explore what we haven’t before. We’re no longer tethered to raising kids and putting ourselves last. It’s our time now and it’s way overdue. However, “New” often requires us to get out of our comfort zone, at least a little bit. Sometimes just going on a date with ourselves (no one else) can be a fun way to do something that a friend may not be up for. And it’s possible we’ll find that we’re not too bad of company to be alone with. It could be a lunch out, or an outing to the zoo or a museum, or a bolder solo road trip. In The Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron encourages us to do this on a regular basis. And I think it builds character while we’re at it.

            Then there’s the whole body-image thing going on while our physical being seems to transform daily—and not in a good way. If I dare wear a two-piece swim suit to the beach, hoping for some mostly all-over color and maximum vitamin D absorption, I hope to God that I don’t see anybody I know. I think all of us crones have some of that insecurity and try to cover up these perceived “flaws” the best we can. But how sad is that? No, we don’t look like we did in our younger years, we can’t. But it should not be expected that we would. I’m trying to embrace aging gracefully and be more accepting of what comes. Not an easy task.

            With a longer life a certain resilience forms. Without it, we’d be gone long ago. We have an easier time letting go of expectations when the years have pounded in the message that tomorrow is simply not to be expected. And speaking of letting go, we learn that enough is enough, materialistically. I mean, should we really put an inordinate amount of work onto our kids to have to sort through all our stuff when we’re gone? 

            Once we are on top of our death cleaning then it frees up time for creativity and personal growth. We may step into our authentic selves with more confidence. Another perk: older adults tend to have more relaxed, stronger relationships without the drama of youth. That feels true. I hope to keep choosing to embrace my hagitude and live as fully as I can in the here and now. And, hopefully, in the ongoing present as well. Cheers to finding your “New”.

Chi Varnado has published six books including fiction, nonfiction and children’s books. They are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com.

She is available to adults and children for fun tutoring in writing. Her Plein Air Writers group meets from 10:00 to 11:00 AM at Dos Picos Park by the pond on the first and third Saturdays of July and August. If interested just show up with a $10 cash donation and paper and pen (or laptop) to follow your creative muse.

           To find fellowship—isn’t that what we all want? Fellowship with our family, friends, neighbors, as well as with our larger social circle can provide a sense of belonging as well as a buffer zone to who or what might lurk out there.

            In the fall of 2003, after we lost everything in the Cedar Fire, we went to a meeting held in a dirt lot in Fernbrook. Our district’s County Supervisor, Dianne Jacob, was there to take note of the types of services we might be in need of. But beyond that, I felt such an overwhelming sense of fellowship with everyone there. We now all shared a commonality with each other. And that alone was a strong and palpable bond, even if we didn’t know everybody.

            But fellowship can encompass an infinite range of circumstances. I can take a walk up the mountain, look toward the sky, and sometimes feel bowled over from the connection I feel with the beautiful clouds dancing in the breeze. Sort of “being one with them.” Or if a squirrel is on the boulder just outside my bedroom window, looking in at me, and at the same moment I happen to glance out, this also provides a kind of connection. I smile and say, “Hi.”

            And then there are those training sessions through work or other organizations during which we’re sectioned into groups to practice together or perhaps to compete against the other groups. Then we are in a state of amity with each other. Sort of like, “We’re in this together.” Sports and tribal groups can fall into this category. It’s helpful to recognize that our involvement in these situations can lead to herd attitudes.

            But fellowship can also occur spontaneously like when we’re standing in the checkout line at the grocery store and engage with someone else—either a nod, a laugh, or just a few words exchanged. This alone can sometimes make my day and lift my mood for longer than you’d think.

            Just the other night we had a potluck dinner with a couple who are close, longtime friends. Anyway, as life happens it had been a number of years since the four of us got together to share a meal. Yes, far too long. But it’s so rewarding to have friends like this that we can feel like we can pick up where we’d left off no matter how long it’s been. Time doesn’t always have to feel linear.

So, where do you find fellowship? Today, I’m hanging out with my dog, Zelda. We started out with a walk down the dirt road, then later she kept me company while I took a sunbath (collecting vitamin D). Now she’s lying at my feet outside as I write this. A quiet camaraderie on a Sunday afternoon. We both know the other is there, and there’s a comfort in that.

Chi Varnado has published six books including fiction, nonfiction and children’s books. They are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com.

She is available to adults and children for fun tutoring in writing. Her Outdoor Writers group is meeting from 10:00 to 11:00 AM at Dos Picos Park by the pond on Saturdays July 5 and 19. If interested just show up with a $10 cash donation and paper and pen (or laptop) to follow your creative muse.