“Good Things”

My wife is always suggesting that we should “partake of the good things in life.” The implication, of course, is that we do not do so often enough, and also that we may be unable to do so in the future. It’s not really unexpected because we do lead a fairly comfortable, sedentary existence.

I find “partake” a fairly cute little word. It conjures images of aristocratic ballrooms or excursions in exotic lands. I never think of folks as “partaking” of a pizza or hamburger. In fact, I rarely hear the word in everyday conversation .

The problem – at least the first problem – is the exact definition of “good things”. I like a walk in the park. She likes shopping. But I guess one cannot “partake” of such commonplace pleasures. No, usually she means something we rarely if ever do. And likely will not. It can generate an intimation that we are somehow being left out of all the fine things everyone else is doing .

A larger problem is that I cannot think of many things that I would rather do than a nice stroll in nature. I am perhaps too much a creature of habit, but that is because over the years I have trained my habits to correspond to my pleasures. Most of the other stuff is, actually, pretty boring .

But what two people want differs. If we ever get around to “partaking” of something she wants, I’m sure I’ll survive .

Morning Celebration

There have been many periods in my life when there was little time in the morning for more than getting myself up and out the door. Since I’ve retired I can act a bit more like the rich folks I read about in the Wall Street Journal and make an effort to consciously slow down, celebrate, and appreciate my life so far, my exact moment, and the day to come .

We all have certain habits and rituals. I’ve tried to make mine as joyful and profound as possible. Not quite mindless meditation, more like letting my mind idle and expand my sensory awareness .

Coffee helps. My real trick has turned out to be (as advised by many others) to practice conscious breathing. Not for hours or even minutes. But a few deep breaths or controlled exhalations or simply a heartfelt sigh can do wonders. It sometimes broadens my outlook entirely .

Fear of missing out has become a great burden of modern life. “What am I missing?” “How will I ever get anything done?” “Oh no, what now?” A conscious breath also helps me fully reset my sense of time, which in turn allows me to contemplate my universe in less frantic ways .

So, a bowl of cereal. Deep sigh. Ah _

Changing Leaves

Autumnal equinox has arrived once again. Maples and dogwood are tinged with red, some of the ornamental shrubs have gone even further. Not sure what this one will be like. I remember a brilliant flaming fall in New Hampshire in the 1970s, when foliage almost hurt the eye. And more recently a few here on Long Island had trees just turn brown and drop.

Variety is one of the enchantments. Not only the seasonal changes, but also what kind of season it will be. Most such memories, at my age, are soon lost, embedded in similar long-term remembrances, but living through another period of cool creeping darkness and the Earth’s responses is always fascinating .

I try to greet each day with enthusiasm, each moment with zest. But it is rewarding to recognize the long swell of differing patterns as a solar cycle goes by. Makes a year resemble a lifetime. The coloring of leaves here is a fine marker .

Most songs and poems characterize Autumn as sadness. Winter is coming, harsh and dreadful. The joys of Summer freedom and carefree existence are gone. I never felt that way, and now even less so. I welcome the reminder of impermanence, and the cycles that overcome it .

So I go out and admire the views. Long forest vista, individual masterpieces on a twig. All part of glorious, miraculous existence. And I still appreciate them in wonder .