In tiny slivers of moments, I appreciate being old. Much of the time I live within vast, silent disbelief at the density of lifetimes it appears I have been given, during this one. Yet, more and more, interruptions in that density occur.
Like slivers of light, awe-filled gratitude cuts through.
Being older is slowly beginning to mean:
I’m trying much less hard to get you to like me. (It takes too much energy!)
I really am worrying less. (It doesn’t help anyway—why bother?)
I’m not comparing myself to you and everybody else quite as much. (A new, mature principle of living is emerging: Who gives a shit?)
Mostly I am experiencing freedom from these old attitudes, except, of course, when I’m not. Then I watch myself get sucked into all those older, well, younger patterns. These days, my return time, my recalibration time, is shorter; the stints in Busy-Mind-Time are easier, less murderously mean.
Aging! It seems to offer massive opportunities to practice kindness to myself.
No shit, Sherlock.
Last night I was fiddling with Pandora music. I despise apps and all Things App. (Is Pandora an app?) Anyway, somehow, my preference for folk music is cellularly remembered by the tiny people who live inside the minuscule Pandora icon on my phone. And there, as only in the magical realm of the World of Cyber, without my overt request, Judy Collins out of the blue began loudly singing, Turn, Turn, Turn.
It was startling and magical, to have Judy’s presence so surprisingly fill up my space.
And, at the same time, I was so moved by the song!
Okay, you have heard this song 500 times, as have I, sung by everybody from the Byrds (note cool spelling) to Johnny Cash, to Dolly Parton, and to even Marlene Dietrich, with orchestra accompaniment by Burt Bachrach,“Für alles kommt die Zeit (Glaub’, Glaub)”.
But last night, through my aging ears, I heard it anew. Please listen. Promise me you will spend these few minutes and listen. Listen with your ears of today. Listen to Judy Collins in 1966, at the age of 27. Today she is 79 years old.
OMG, you guys. The depth of acceptance, the message of fluidity, the invitation into acknowledging the inevitable.
It all changes.
Okay, Ecclesiastes, we know all this; we know things come and go. We know things shift and change. We are good and attempting-to-be-mindful people. But/and, if ever there were a time, a time to allow the changes, perhaps this is it, you guys, this, the last week of October 2018.
Perhaps this is the time to acknowledge the inevitability of turning.
To everything – turn, turn, turn
There is a season – turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep
A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing
A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time for love, a time for hate
A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late!
The season shifts.
The temperature drops.
The earth hardens.
The trees seem unimpressed by their effortless release of leaves.
Piles of dry leaves crunch beneath our feet.
We head toward the voting booths.
We pray for the best for ourselves,
For our children,
For our country,
For all children,
For all countries.
We pray for our earth.
We pray, oh, we pray for our glorious earth.
The Marlene Dietrich German adaption (“Für alles kommt die Zeit /Glaub’, Glaub)”) translates from the German as “Everything has Its Time—Believe, Believe”.
I am inspired by that; I am reminded by that, that belief is needed, belief in that which is truly running the show.
Belief in the turning.
Folks, let’s together believe that the highest will unfold for us all.
Perhaps not in our time, but in its right timing.
Let’s believe that grace will guide the way; that the seasons will unfold, that the sun will rise, that life will continue to bless us in its perfect rhythm.
Let us turn to this new season—to this new month.
Let us turn toward this new moment—to this new day.
Let us believe.
Dear Friends, what are you noticing—what turning is impacting you right now? What does your believing look like? Please do keep in touch. I am firstname.lastname@example.org.