Predictions...

 I don't recall where I came upon the idea, but on my birthday in 2018, I wrote a letter to myself, five years in the future, which means that I just opened the envelope to an interesting future-trip of hopes and dreams. I knew I'd have been retired for about three years, wondering about how I'd adjust. I also wondered about my relationships with two important ex's, both now deceased. I rightly hoped my spouse and I would continue to be laughing and loving as we near the 14th anniversary of our first date.

I did not predict cancer - my husband's or my own. I didn't foresee my sister-in-law's dementia. I did not predict covid and the global pandemic. I didn't know I'd be walking rather than running for fitness, or the particular travels and trips I've taken. I rightly warned myself to beware of the "calendar fillers," with over-scheduling being a trait I've written about for years. (Part of hitting bottom with my addictions was seeing my calendar with months and months of blank spaces. Re-engaging with the world has been part of my recovery, but as with all things, balance is key.) I thought I'd be spending much of my time with two friends I rarely see.  In other words, I do not have a crystal ball!!  

This was a fun exercise and one I might repeat, maybe for my 75th birthday, six years away, though I am now acutely aware of the fickle nature of time and happenings. A future letter could be focused on spiritual growth perhaps, intentions for seeking serenity.

Along those lines, I listened in in a talk from Sister Bea, a long time AA speaker (I believe I still have one of her cassettes from the '80's!). Now 89 years old, and living back in Ireland, her topic was "Living in the Solution." I appreciated hearing that she is very human and needs reminding to reach out to power(s) greater than herself, still. I think I move along believing that asking for help and living in the moment would become automatic by this stage of the game, but, alas, I also need the daily reminders that I am not in charge. 

Sister Bea did describe the relief in (finally) not caring what others think. That one is easier as time passes - maybe because fewer people are paying attention to me (ha ha). But the whole deal of living within my hoola-hoop, increasing concern for my own danged self while decreasing my concern/directions/ideas for other people can still be a challenge. I have so many good ideas! I'm reminded of what a friend once said - "I'll have lots of feelings (and ideas) during the day. I just don't have to attach a sentence to every one."

I'm part of a running/walking group that meets Saturday mornings. This weekend I had conversations with two newer women, independently of the other, speaking to "if not now, when?" in regard to physical health and fitness. Both in their early 50's, they talked about a vision for the future - on the couch or active in the world? That 50-year milestone is now almost twenty years in the rearview mirror for me. First of all, how strange, and secondly, a good reminder of the opportunity to make decisions along the way. At 50, I had no idea I'd meet my husband in a few years, or that I'd finally complete and publish my novel (Shadows and Veins, available at Multnomah County library or online retailers), or complete more marathons. My mom was reasonably healthy then, with the ravages of long-term cigarette smoking catching up.  Again, I did not have a crystal ball. 

And so, my experience, should I choose to remember, shows me again and again that I can do footwork, but the results are out of my hands. I can have a five-year plan, make reservations, sign up for a race, etc, etc. and the Universe has the final call.

Funny enough, this was the first year that I wasn't consciously aware of the anniversary of my mother's passing, now 11 years ago. While at the symphony over the weekend, a certain musical passage had me in tears, thinking of how much pain I was in while waiting for her to pass. I'd thought an anticipated goodbye would be easier than a sudden departure. Not so. And, over time, the empty space fills with fond memories. I now get together regularly with a group of paternal cousins, sisters plus one. Our parents are all gone, and it is both fun and bittersweet to share stories and fill in gaps I didn't know were there.

What might you say to your five-years-older self? What about to yourself five or ten years ago, when you likely didn't know what was ahead? How does the daily reprieve play out in your life today? What do you do to maintain or increase your spiritual fitness?