My seven-year-old granddaughter and I are having conversations about what constitutes art. As we wander around Balboa Park after her ballet classes, I watch as her mind expands to include other things besides painting or crafts. I point out the architecture of those beautiful old buildings—complete with the ornate sculptures which decorate their facades.

            She’ll ask things like, “You mean, even those plants are art, Granny?”

            I tell her that landscape artists designed their layout and carefully care for them. And that, yes, those folk dancers underneath the huge Moreton Bay Fig Tree are doing art as well. We’ve wandered through the Japanese Friendship Garden, sat beside the Lily Pond, wound our way through the canyon maze… and plan to experience more that this amazing place has to offer.

           We also branch out our conversation when I mention how one lives their life can also be a form of art. By living creatively and being open to spontaneity can be a much more fulfilling way of life than not being open to new experiences and ideas. You know, like being set in our ways. And then inspiration has a much better chance to come to us if we give it room to appear.

            But it’s also about balance, both internal and external. Changing our behavior enough before things get too out of balance is an important skill, and we must be on the lookout for when we might need to activate a counterbalance. After all, we do have to function in our society as well as be aware of our effects on the natural world.

            When we live in rural places our responsibilities extend beyond what our own preferences might be, as it would if we lived in the city. For instance, we may be proud of our outdoor landscaping and want it to be visible in the dark as well as day. But by lighting up our yards at night we add to the light pollution which gets worse and worse as more people join in the “fun”. The natural night life around us can be negatively affected without our even knowing how or how much. Night sky ordinances or not—let’s be mindful. Perhaps your neighbor wants to go outside and look at the stars that your lights have blocked.

           Lately, I’ve been reading The Re-Enchantment of Everyday Life by Thomas Moore. He’s a psychotherapist who also has a Ph.D. in religion. The book is full of inspirational as well as educational information. One of the many paragraphs that resonated with me, probably because of my own personal life mode, follows:

            In the third book of the Republic, Plato poses a question about education: Is it right to think of gymnastics as training for the body and music for the soul? His answer would surprise some readers: Both, he says, are for the soul. Gymnastics, he says, derives from the “high-spirited element in our nature,” and if it is carried out in conjunction with music, it educates a person in courage. But if music is lacking, gymnastics makes a person hard and harsh. On the other hand, if you learn music but not gymnastics, you become too soft, you “melt and liquefy until your spirit dissolves away.”

           Beginning in early childhood, I gravitated to dance and gymnastics because then I wouldn’t have to choose between physical activity and music. I studied both for many years. The blending of these disciplines, plus diving in with heart and soul, was a necessary fusion for me, providing a balance which I’ve always considered extremely important to my wellbeing. I can’t speak for others specifically, but I do feel that embracing a broad spectrum of existence can help provide one with both a groundedness and an openness to serendipity.

            Anyway, regardless of what we are doing with our time and energy, why not try to enjoy our life as an art form—continually growing and changing? And who knows what might happen next?

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.

          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.