The "I's" of Living in the Here and Now

Old age makes for an easier time of living in the here and now.

Except for my many projects, I do not have to work towards any major life goals (except maybe health.)

I am comfortable in my condo, do not need to buy any furniture, have everything in its place, and have a housekeeper to help me keep the place clean.

I live in downtown Evanston near many restaurants, Whole Foods, an 18 screen theater, the library, the post office, two transportation lines, ice cream stores, book stores, an immediate care office, and many other shops. What more could I need.

My car is parked in a protected garage, in a reserved space, on the tenth floor where the car has a better view of the lake than I do from my condo.

During cold weather, I just turn up my heat and do not have to worry about shoveling the sidewalk or cleaning the snow off my car.

During hot weather, I just turn up my air conditioning and sit out on the balcony with an ice tea and a good book.

I do not need to worry about my career path, work deadlines, pleasing my boss, or work towards future retirement.

I do not have to prove myself to anyone (except maybe Gigi and Emma :-)

I am OK financially and it seems like I will be for the rest of my life.

I have never “lived in the past,” am not fixated on any particular time and place in the past, and while I miss Gregory, even here I think I have done a fairly good job of moving on.

I think I do not need to retell my stories over and over, relive them, or get fixated with them (except documenting them currently in my publications.)

I know that I will never get there as to my future self, one never does, but after 75+ years, I am closer to my future self than I am needing to find or work on achieving that place on earth. 

Did I miss anything?

Order, Design, Composition.

Order.
Design.
Composition.
Tone.
Form.
Symmetry.
Balance.

From: Sunday in the Park With George. Steven Sondheim.

The above quote from the musical seems to summarize a recent feeling I had about the direction my life has taken. Things seem to be even, no great highs and no great lows. Very few fears, doubts, concerns. Minimal shoulds and oughts. Always ambitions, projects, and hopes but tempered.

My home and life reflect the quote but not in a compulsive way.  I find that having my home in order is a way of having my mind and life in order. When things are out of order, periodically and for a brief time, no big deal. But I do find that when I am able to line them up again, I feel better.

Gregory helped me learn how to be organized and I perfected the skill when he needed help with organizing his  life during his 12 years with Alzheimer's. I miss Gregory and always will. After a year, my grief has calmed. I have changed the old physicality of our relationship into a new way of carrying him with me and I am doing well.

If I visit the mysteries of life and death, I can get freaked and overwhelmed. If I spend too much time re-visiting the "ordeal" we lived for 12 years I can make myself distraught. But for the most part those digressions are under control. When they need my attention, I can sit with them and grieve. Then they calm and I am able to look for new lessons and awarenesses they can bring me.

When I look closely I see that both Gregory and I were NOT victims of Alzheimer's but rather, we were both HEROS doing the best we could to live with the circumstances and at the same time take as good of care of each other as we could. And not only me taking care of him but him taking care of me throughout the entire time!

I wake each day looking forward to its events. I try not to over schedule the day and sometimes take an entire day off from accomplishing anything. I do feel a little lazy, a little guilty, a little "bad boy," but mostly I tell myself, "Good for you!"

A feeling of great joy comes over me when I know that my life is in order. Nothing major is waiting to be done: no major renovations to the condo, no big shopping needs, no friend or family phone calls or visits long overdue. The refrigerator and pantry larder amply filled, all doctor appointments have been executed or are on the calendar, bills paid, immediate projects completed, future projects allowing plenty of time to accomplish.

My collections of things are beautifully displayed and seeing them brings me joy. The many small "shrines" devoted to the beauty and magic of life fill the condo with a sense of love, place, peace and calm. The photographs of departed family and friends fill the alter in my bedroom closet and I commune with them every day reaffirming my gratefulness for the role they played in my life.

The condo is clean and every item in its place. A neatly made bed, clean kitchen sink, orderly bathroom, dusted living room tables, and somewhat organized desk area bolster my sense of order as well. 

My two cats, Emma and Gigi, cause me to laugh as well as wonder at animal intelligence and while I feign anger at their bad behavior, their determination  and the creativity they use to get into trouble amazes me. They play and romp, doze and sleep, seek attention and love, respond to the call for "treats," and then doze and sleep again.

The Christmas tree is up, a few decorations placed around, and a few holiday cookies about to be baked. All gifts have been purchased and await wrapping but there is plenty of time for that with shiny green paper and red raffia ribbon at hand.

Visits with several groups of friends took place over Thanksgiving, a few "coffee & cookie" parties will be organized before Christmas, Michigan Family visit scheduled for this coming weekend, Texas Family visit coming up after Christmas, and then three weeks in Mexico is on the books. 

There is nothing I have to do that I do not want to do or dread doing. I have few obligations and those which remain I have turned into gifts of compassion and/ or love.

My finances are in order, my bills paid, and I have made a number of contributions to good causes including La Casa Norte and following up on Gregory's wishes to donate to Wesleyan University and his fraternity Alpha Delta Phi in Middletown, Connecticut. 

Based on a tradition Gregory and I started a few years ago, I began this holiday season carrying $100.00 in singles in my pocket every time I go out and every time someone on the street asks for help I give them a dollar or two. 

I know that all of life is impermanent and subject to change. On a moments notice, possible loss follows. I know that I cannot always control or bring order to those things which await me in the future.

So I live for today (with an eye towards tomorrow to help keep perspective,) am grateful for the good life which I am able to live, for Gregory's love which continues to fill me each day and night, for the love I am able to share with others, and for the wonderful people in my life. 

I am content. Since this ended up sounding like a "Christmas Letter," let me wish you and your family the best of the season and the best of life. I appreciate you being part of my life and value our relationship!

Michael

Happiness Is Here And Now

Gregory could be singing this piece from Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh's Plum Villiage. In many ways, I am singing it as well.

In The Moment

In the moment. Experiencing the here and now. And I am not necessarily comfortable with this.

After a thorough Thai Massage yesterday with massage therapist Sarah McLaughlin, with whom I have been working for, what, five years now; I got into my car, completely relaxed, and feeling a strange feeling. I stopped as I was sitting in the driver's seat, car yet unstarted, to think about what I was feeling. It was an uncomfortable feeling. It wasn't a good feeling or a bad feeling. It wasn't filled with happiness or sadness. It just was. But it was uncomfortable.

I realized that besides scattered bits of conversation with Sarah during the hour long massage, my world had stopped. It had stopped except for the sensations of my body being stretched, pushed, pulled, rotated, massaged. My mind focused on each part as it was manipulated. I sensed the pain, and the good feelings, and the tensing and release of muscle. But I did this without labeling the sensation or the body part.

I didn't need to label my arm and the muscle tension slowly disappearing, I just was focused on the moment. I did not label each hip in turn or the pain and release which radiated from the hip towards the knee and at times on opposite sides of the body. I just focused on the moment.

Today I had a similar experience. After catching up on e-mails, paying a few bills; after updating my iPad and iPhone including a call for help from Apple SOS; a light breakfast of toast and yogurt and later another cup of coffee; a brief nap, one or the other of the cats chasing each other, rubbing my leg for attention, or a yawl or purr; running a few loads of laundry and folding the results; I decided to lie down for half an hour before meeting a friend for dinner in the neighborhood.

As I lie in bed, still in m P.J.s, I experienced this "In The Moment" again. I felt the crisp smooth sheets against my body, the nubs of the cotton blanket under my fingers, the soft pillow supporting my head, the sound of the HVAC, the gurgling of the water in the cat fountain located in the bathroom just opposite my bed, the soft fur of the cat lying next to me and slightly leaning on my thigh while cleaning herself.

As an exercise, recently studied in one of my Buddhist books, I tried to experience each physical feeling and each auditory experience without labeling the object or the noise. I actually was able to do this. But agin, like yesterday in the car, it felt uncomfortable. Not good or bad, I just didn't like the experience.

So I stayed with that thought to see why I was feeling uncomfortable. I did not want to label the experience GOOD or BAD but was disturbed that I was uncomfortable. An awareness came to me. I am so used to the sounds around me, and distraction, and all sorts of odd jobs and activities, always doing something, always thinking about how to do what is happening now or what's next, thinking about future travel plans, tonight's dinner, are the sox ready to come out of the washer and be put into the dryer.

With the ability to stop all that "noise in my head," I had truly achieved being "in the moment," experiencing the "here and now." And I was not used to this. I had experienced it while spending time with Gregory and just being focused on being with him, not what was next, not the Alzheimer's, not what I would be doing later that night. But even then the "here and now" was filled with activities of the present, even if the past and the future played no mind.

This time, it was a place I had not been before in such this way. It was so strange, foreign, uncomfortable. Perhaps even fearful. No labels, no names, no explanations or descriptions. Just in the moment. Time seemed to stop. Past and future did not exist not did the present. In some ways, I wondered, is this was death feels like? Just not so permanent?

So what is next? Not sure. Learning to become more comfortable in the absence of things and activities of life? Learning to listen more carefully to the calm that exists within me when I can turn off the "noise in my head?" Not sure. Not sure.