Of course, we all know that change is inevitable and that most of it (in the big scheme of things) is beyond our petty control. Dead skin cells continually slough off our bodies, making way for new growth beneath. Each season fades into the next, every year turns over anew, our bodies erode – as do landscapes, and new ideas channel ahead. Sometimes we adapt gracefully, but not always.

            Personally, I’ve been given the challenge of practicing patience as I recover from rotator-cuff surgery—for the third time. Not fun. Sleeping in a recliner, making do with one functioning arm while the other sweats in a sling, continuously trying to accept all the things that I can’t do (for now, or perhaps ever), can tax my resolve. Everything is impermanent, I remind myself.

          Since the Cedar Fire in 2003 came through and claimed everything here, Kent and I have gotten accustomed to the way things have been for the past twenty years. But now, progress is being made further up the canyon where the last quarter mile of our country dirt road has been paved over. To each his own, I suppose. Each one of us is entitled to our own preferences, but deep down I know that’s all they are: our own take on things.

            The arts, trails, winery and music scenes are blossoming here in our beautiful valley of the sun. I feel that this mingling has been an organic type of growth and evolution that fits our community well. It blends with our natural habitat in a way that conventional development would not. And, they all depend on acceptance and comradery in order to flourish, which also deeply benefits every one of us. We all like to feel included. The ripple effect of every little thing reaches farther than we can possibly know. So, when negativity, through uncompassionate comments or actions, are put forth publicly then the harmony of our whole is compromised. When we try to force our rigidly held beliefs on others, everyone pays. It’s just not the right thing to do. Let’s be better and hold ourselves to a higher standard where love and compassion is held foremost.

            Instead of reverting back to our own fixed stance on things, how about opening ourselves to some fresh air outside in nature? If we stop our incessant thought patterns and just look up into the trees, who knows what new thoughts might appear? Among other things, we might find ourselves reconsidering our long-held judgements of others. It’s always worth a try.

            And when did sheer functionality and convenience become more important than beauty? They really don’t enrich our souls. As a kid, our kitchen table had gargoyles intricately carved into the legs. After the Cedar Fire, I went to an antique shop to replace our manual coffee mill grinder, and mortar and pestle. Beautiful craftsmanship is ageless and adds beauty to our lives while also providing purpose. I’d rather combine both instead of letting go of heart and soul for the strict functionality of Ikea-type surroundings. The farther we remove ourselves from beauty and nature, the less connected we become to everything. All things are part of the bigger whole, as are we.               

            Clinging to a set of beliefs limits our capacity for noticing magic. Magic, inspiration, synchronicity, whatever we’d like to call it; usually arrives when we least expect it. It’s like when those song lyrics come floating by and we’re aware enough to accept the gift. Or in my case, for years I’ve been trying to work out the challenges of running our property, always with the same goals in mind; and then, all of a sudden it becomes clear. Just let it go. There may be a different way to look at this that I’m not seeing. Therefore, I’m letting it go to make room for another approach—whatever that might be.   

            Smile, breathe, look into the trees and be grateful… for my heart and soul shall open and be more accepting and patient. That’s the plan, anyway. For now, though, I think I’ll sit on this rock and listen to the quail mutter and scuttle through the bushes.

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.

            What might it be like to age gracefully? What does that even mean? Perhaps it’s like what a good friend of mine said after retiring.

            “I’m completely content to just rock away on the porch with a good book.”

            Did she really not feel the tug to get something done? How long did that feeling of hers really last? Regardless, I gotta say—I’m a little envious.

            Or maybe aging gracefully is more along the lines of continuing to do what we’ve always done, but with minor adjustments along the way, which allow for our slowing bodies and minds. No new record-setting for downhill skiing or half-marathons for us.

            But it very well could be more of an attitude adjustment, knowing ourselves well enough to age out of some behaviors while adopting new ones. For example: going for walks instead of running so much; working in the yard for two hours instead of six; taking breaks between accomplishments; and giving ourselves permission to simply get less done. But this last one, in particular, gnaws at me since there remains the same number of chores as always, if not more.

            My mom had the same issue. Even after being diagnosed with a brain tumor and moving across town to my sister’s living room, she mentally struggled with not being able to take care of her own work at home. When a pipe burst and flooded her kitchen, it was all we could do to keep her from personally trying to come fix it. She complained, “It’s so frustrating for you to have to hire a plumber when I know how to fix it myself.” I felt for her.

            But soon her tune changed, once she realized that her cancer was most likely terminal. My sister would see Mom first thing in the morning and notice how pissed off she seemed, as if she was angry that she was still alive. Another unbelievably difficult day, living in that limbo land.

            Our dad had the opposite approach. He fought it to the very end—keeping us engaged in his futile fight against his approaching demise. When the hospice nurse strongly suggested morphine, he grudgingly allowed her to administer the smallest dose. At that point my sister and I were encouraged that we might get a brief respite from his ongoing intensity. But that was not to be, as it made him “fuzzy headed” and he hated that.

            These days when my little circle of women friends get together, we talk a lot about aging. You’d think it must be our favorite topic, along with books and movies about old people. One of them says that when she loses her marbles, her family could just plug her into old reruns of The Mary Tyler Moore Show and Gilligan’s Island. After the seasons play out, they can simply start them over again since she won’t remember anyway. She still likes these now so figures that at least they might provide something vaguely familiar to her later.

            Both my Aunt Lib and my husband’s step mother had the wherewithal, as well as the means, to buy into continuing care retirement communities where they were able to live out their days. When they were no longer able to care for themselves, they simply graduated from independent living to assisted living, followed by full-time nursing care.  Neither one of them wanted to be a burden on their children.

            Most people can’t afford this option, or don’t plan ahead effectively. There are those who struggle financially through life, owning nothing, Or, some may live close to the edge, but manage to sell their few assets in time to qualify for state funding to assist in their housing/care. And then there’s the rest of us who may or may not have long-term care policies, but, if so, wouldn’t dare touch them unless we’re sure that this will be it for us. We’re encouraged to “plan ahead”. But for what exactly? The basic questions include: How long will you live? How much money will you need to retire? When do you plan to retire? Sometimes I feel like a kindergartener trying to answer calculus problems. A crystal ball would be mighty handy.  

            Meanwhile, we’re still trying our best to run this ranch—complete with animals, Airbnb, property maintenance and yard work… I don’t have a pension so I guess I’m my own retirement plan. I am trying to accept being able to do less, while still trying to figure out how to get it all done. My way is probably not much in line with aging gracefully. Back in school I was used to getting good grades, but I may be letting them slip a bit lately, as I age, at least in this subject area. It’s complicated… However, good luck with your grades!

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.

          Might we be getting too complacent as we inhabit our house, hang out at our usual venues, and socialize only with our core group of friends? Do we take the extra step to ask the person behind us in line about how their day is going? Or listen attentively to an opposing viewpoint in case we may learn something? Our world view can shrink to our own surroundings if we let it. What if our minds could be less hardened and more open to change? Besides possibly expanding our insights, I think it’s just more fun. Real creative banter, where we let go of our personal beliefs and biases, can be freeing as well as enlightening.

            Last week we visited relatives on the east coast. During a conversation, Cousin Jay said something which made Kent and I furrow our brows in confusion when he came to a conclusion that neither of us could make sense of. I can’t remember now what the topic was, but in further discussion we discovered that it was simply either one word left out or one put in by accident that completely changed his intended meaning. It can be a little like the game of Telephone in which a simple phrase is whispered around a circle and the last person shares what it is. It’s often completely changed from the original words. This happens all the time, and even more so in texts or social media. We go off on something before taking the time to reflect on the fact that we could be getting it wrong.

          Traveling from Virginia to Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Connecticut, and Massachusetts – with other states in between, I once again marveled how lush and green it is back there, with flowers everywhere you look. This year, it is also quite green here as well, thanks to all the extra rain we’ve received. But there, they have to mow every week, through spring, summer and fall. We have a lot more weed whacking to do right now, but our rains generally don’t last through the summer so the chore doesn’t continue.

            It also struck me how much bigger most of the houses are there. Three or four stories tall with a necessary sump pump in the basement. And, again, I couldn’t help but notice all the added utility use and waste this often promotes. Up and down the stairs between the levels, leaving a light on here and there, and the heater going in unused rooms. More bathrooms to maintain (or not) so the likelihood of undetected drips increases… I suppose it might be overwhelming to live as sustainably as possible when your footprint is so massive. And there I go again with my own biases…   

            Our familiarity and comfort zone can begin to shrink as we shelter in place. For me as well. Leaving home is difficult, especially when you have animals, plants to water, a ranch to care for and a young dog. Finally, when all was set for us to be gone for nine days, we departed. It was great to see my husband’s relatives again and catch up with everyone, after not seeing most of them for many years. Two of them had dogs, which I found comfort in. A natural bond forming within my canine comfort zone.

            As I digress, my thoughts turn from differing viewpoints of people to seemingly opposite tendencies within an individual. Take me, for example. Brought up with the extreme structure of classical music and ballet, I’ve always embraced the required perseverance and training of body, mind and spirit that this life entails. However, either because of, or in spite of this, my other self constantly questions authority. Even as a kid, I was encouraged to do so. Does this mean I have a Jekyll and Hyde personality or am I simply a more balanced person? Of course, I believe it’s the latter. After all, I at least harbor some self-preservation traits. Whew.

            Part of my self-preservation is to go outside in nature every day, often many times (or stay out there all day). We returned from our trip to see the creek still running; and seep monkey flowers, curly dock, owl’s clover and penstemon blooming in profusion. The poorwill still sings at night and the owl calls echo through the canyon. It’s good to be home.

            It’s also good to come back to the shelter of our town with all the beautiful wineries and the wonderful music that we can immerse ourselves in. And the many hiking trails, farm stands, social events… This is our community. Our shelter. But we all need a little shake up sometimes, don’t you think?

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.