Iris Ruth Pastor's Blog, page 26

Ever Been at a Tantalizing Intersect

Ever been at a tantalizing intersection?

I was – just this week. Torn between keeping up with news of the yet another presidential impeachment, the upcoming preparations for the Inauguration and the latest updates on Covid vaccines versus tackling my New Year’s Resolution List.

The List won out.

My neurons were all fired up to tackle the most responsible items on my list first: the techy ones that I always have put off in the past. These include, but certainly are not limited to, passing on my passwords, making a list of what files I have my most important digital information stored in and designating someone to be the recipient of all this “fascinating” info. That was #1 on my list.

That was way too daunting.

Deciding to be flexible, I skip to #2 on my list instead: Locate Living Wills and Medical Directives. After much aggravated searching, I lay claim to both documents and with wild relief and great satisfaction place a big black checkmark beside item #2.

New Year Resolution # 3: Decide Who Gets What:
My grandmother’s tea cups
My vast collection of books
My great grandfather’s swords from Russia
My dad’s World War 2 army gear
And any and all other momentos

This is a way too cumbersome a task to deal with – calling on me to not only face my own mortality, but to be organized and attentive. Not happening.

I skip to #4: Practice Good Mental Health

Here I have lots of options: Get out in nature. Stay in the moment. Slow down. Simplify life. Eat healthy. Practice gratitude. Do good deeds.

I’m stoked, especially after reading a directive from the World Health Organization. Due to the pandemic, mental health conditions are rapidly rising due to anxiety and isolation – resulting in depression, trauma, abuse and grief.

Who wants to be saddled with so much sadness? Not me. I’m all in on this one. What can I do to practice good emotional health in 2021? I know! Have fun.

That, I happily report, was accomplished this past week

My sister is in town for a month and staying in a condo about 45 minutes from my house. We both registered for a very properly social-distanced collage course at a regional fine arts center nearby.

The day of our first class arrived. We started off the morning by shopping and buying clothes (we didn’t need) at a trendy boutique where we were the only customers.

Then we ate lunch outside in a nearby neighborhood café – ordering not one low calorie, nutritious item. And then, for three glorious hours, we proceeded to lose ourselves in the very therapeutic act of working with our hands.

I like to think of us as amateur folk artists – telling our stories through our creations.

Here’s two of mine:

BLOOM WHEREVER YOU ARE

LIFE IS PUZZLING, JAGGED AND MESSY

Sometimes, simple is best: a day of fun with someone who loves you unconditionally. I can’t wait to repeat item #4 again.

Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
Iris Ruth Pastor

Weighing In on the New Year

It’s Wednesday afternoon. CNN is playing in the background as I sit at my computer penning my weekly newsletter to you. TOPIC: Weighing In on the New Year.

Halfway through, my attention rivets to the TV screen a few feet away. Hordes of angry, hyper-active people are storming the Capital Building, scaling walls, screaming obscenities. One guy is wearing a sweatshirt sporting the phrase “Camp Auschwitz.” Another proudly carries a Confederate flag – shortly thereafter, he will be filmed wandering in the Senate vestibule proudly waving it.

Part of me is horrified at the enfolding scene of chaos blasting from my TV. Part of me is highly irritated because every paragraph I have written for my newsletter now suddenly seems trite and irrelevant.

But it isn’t.

My original thought for this week’s newsletter was to write about the fear of the scale and what transpires when instead of avoiding the scale, we begin weighing ourselves every day – an action I have been performing since October.

I was going to issue a SPOILER ALERT: If you have never agonized over getting on a scale and weighing yourself, save yourself some time and skip this week’s column. You simply will not relate.

I was going to write about my late mom (of blessed memory) who had no problem with THE SCALE. She ate mindfully, moderately and healthily. And never had a weight problem.

I was going to write about what it felt like to weigh 110 pounds in fifth grade. That was ME. Bigness was my buddy and my physical image of myself never wavered: Overgrown Lummox.

I was going to write about a morbidly obese friend who I greatly admired for her spunk and creativity. She then lost over 100 pounds and my admiration doubled. How does she maintain the loss? She weighs herself religiously every morning at the same time.

And then I was going to chat about the rest of us:

The ones who put off going to the doctor for a yearly check-up because we suffer from FOTS (fear of the scale).The ones who, when we work up the courage to step on that digital monster, strip completely – including, but not limited to, hair adornments, bikini underwear, gold hoop earrings and rubber mouth guards.The ones whose blood pressure scoots up dramatically by even the thought of seeing the scale tally up our poundage.

My new year’s resolution for 2021 was simple: I WAS GOING TO CONTINUE TO WEIGH MYSELF EVERY MORNING.

Why?

Because when I do daily weigh-ins:

My fear of the scale diminishes.I get less sensitized to each day’s fluctuations.And as the impact lessens, I turn my energy and attention to other endeavors.

Minutes tick by on Wednesday afternoon. I tear myself away from the screen to dash to my 3pm hair appointment. My stylist and I track the developments from my I Phone. We see marauding thugs climbing up walls, shattering windows and pouring forth into the hallowed halls of our government. As a 220 year-long tradition of peaceful transfer of power is broken, she and I remark in unison: “We will always remember where we were at this moment of chaos.”

This is unprecedented. Mobs storming the U.S. Capital Building and forced evacuation of Senators to an undisclosed location. Domestic terrorism is playing out in real time – not in a Netflix series.

And I realize that in today’s world, our watching the daily news – glued to it sometimes – has had the same effect as weighing ourselves daily:

We become desensitized.Only extreme fluctuations even register on our personal radar.As the impact lessens, we also react less viscerally to reality. In this case, where our country is concerned, we become used to the spewed hate, racial injustice, anti-Semitism and baseless attacks on our constitution and election processes.

My revised New Year’s resolution for 2021: Yes, I am going to continue to weigh myself daily. Yes, I am going to continue to watch the news daily, track the trends, and maintain heightened awareness. But most of all, I will neverforget to revere justice, seek the truth, and value our United States Constitution and Democracy.

Keep Preserving Your Bloom and G-d Bless America,
Iris Ruth Pastor

Three Things You Will Need in the New Year

I love this picture above. It is marked The Circle of Life, but for me – it has value beyond that simple phrase. This photo to me depicts HOPE and RESILIENCE.

HOPE for the future as exemplified by this little tyke as he begins to walk in his own.

RESILIENCE as exemplified by this elderly gentleman who doesn’t let the increments of aging hold him back.

I believe HOPE and RESILIENCE will get us through the coming dark days of rising Covid cases and buoy us up until life returns to a semblance of normalcy.

HOPE

RESILIENCE

Below are some quotes to hold close reflecting HOPE and RESILIENCE

Life consists not in holding good cards, but in playing well those you do hold.
Josh Billings

Every survival kit should include a sense of humor.
Anonymous

Hope sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible.
Anonymous

Imagination is more important than knowledge.
Albert Einstein

Wonderful things happen to us when we live expectantly,  believe confidently and pray affirmatively.

A diamond is a chunk of coal that made good under pressure.
Anonymous

Hope is faith holding out its hand in the dark.
Anonymous

Between tomorrow’s dream and yesterday’s regret is today’s opportunity.
Anonymous

They (the good old days) were never that good, believe me. The “good new days” are today and better days are coming tomorrow. Our greatest songs are still unsung.
Hubert H. Humphrey

Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds that you plant.
Robert Louis Stevenson

If you think you haven’t much to be thankful for, why not be thankful for some of the things you don’t have.
Anonymous

The human capacity for burden is like bamboo – far more flexible than you’d ever believe at first glance.
Jodi Picoult

Hang on to your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.
E.B. White

Scar tissue is stronger than regular tissue. 
Henry Rollins

What makes people resilient is the ability to find humor and irony in situations that would otherwise overpower you.
Amy Tan

Let your smile change the world, but don’t let the world change your smile 
Anonymous

And now for the FORK

There is one thing that gives radiance to everything. It is the idea of something ‘round the corner.
G.K. Chesterton

A young woman was diagnosed with a terminal illness and contacted her clergy person to discuss her final wishes.

She explained which songs she wanted sung at the service, what words she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in. As the clergy person was preparing to leave her home, she excitedly exclaimed, “Wait, there’s one more thing. I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand.”

The clergy person was puzzled.

“My grandmother once told me this story,” the young woman explained. “She always remembered during social events that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, ‘Keep your fork.‘ It was her favorite part, because she knew that something better was coming…like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!

“So, I just want people to see me there in that casket – with a fork in my hand – and I want them to wonder ‘What’s with the fork?’ Then I want you to tell them: ‘Keep your fork…the best is yet to come.’”

HOPE and RESILIENCE and a FORK: May all three remind us to have faith that our ideals will be upheld, the constitution adhered to, the country united and the pandemic squelched in 2021 – that truly, the best is yet to come.

Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Happy, Healthy 2021

Iris Ruth Pastor

A Perfect Christmas Activity

It’s midday on a Tuesday. CNN is playing softly in the background as I routinely empty the dishwasher – ruminating over my present state of aloneness.

   How much longer until I see my kids?

Tickle and hug my grandkids?

As I separate clean knives and forks and drop them into the slotted drawers, my musings are interrupted by a few key phrases I hear from the nearby television.

Ray Dalio, head of the world’s largest hedge fund, appears with CNN correspondent Poppy Harlow in a pre-recorded interview. Dalio is deeply worried about a divided and profoundly unequal America as President-elect Joe Biden prepares to take power. Dalio warns of a toxic brew: worsening income inequality, political polarization and mounting debt.

 “Main Street is in crisis,” he notes.

Though his message is dire, his delivery is calm. Logical. Not overly dramatic. Definitive, but cautious. I further note that he is dressed casually and the backdrop behind him is not carefully curated.

“Wow,” I think, “this guy has it ‘all together.’” He’s a self-made billionaire, a generous philanthropist and a breeder of confidence. My late father would definitely have titled him “a lucky bastard.”

Except, just days after that interview, Ray Dalios’ good fortune took a turn for the worse.

At the conclusion of the pre-recorded interview, Poppy Harlow added a footnote: Dalio’s 42 year-old son was killed in a car crash when his Audi burst into flames after crashing into a Verizon store at a shopping center in Greenwich, Conn. The cause of the crash is still being investigated by police. Devon Dalio leaves his parents, three brothers, wife and a young child.

Ray Dalio’s luck ran out. Ours could too. At any time.

It’s a chilling reminder that money, fame, security, smarts and power – none of that – can protect us from the capriciousness and delicacy of life.

Suddenly I’m tired of my sticky thoughts – unproductive ruminations about Covid – that only mire me in frustration and yearning. I want to leap out of this abyss – but how do  I change my narrative?

Days later I get an answer to how I can make my hibernation more productive. My sister tells me about the Chanukah present her daughters gave her and her husband. It’s called Story Worth.

Once a week, Story Worth emails them both questions and they simply reply with an answer. At the end of a year, their stories are bound into a beautiful keepsake book and sent to them. https://welcome.storyworth.com/

There are several hundred questions a giver can choose from or the person gifting can write their own. Below are some samples:

   What is one of your favorite children’s stories? Why?

   What was your dad/mom like when you were a child?

   What have been some of your life’s greatest surprises?

   What was the neighborhood you grew up in like?

   What do you think are the secrets to a happy relationship?

   Tell me about a song that brings back an interesting memory from your youth 

   What do you worry about?

   What are some of the most important elections you’ve voted in, and what made them important to you?

   What’s a gift you always wished someone would give you?

   What advice would you give your 20 year-old self?

   What was one of the hardest things about growing up? How did you get through it?

   If you had to go back in time and start a brand-new career, what would it be?

   What’s a small decision you made that ended up having a big impact on your life?

I’m not advocating we all go out and purchase Story Worth. I am advocating that the next time we feel ourselves slipping down the Covid rabbit hole of despair, we stop. We then begin the process of asking pertinent and substantive questions to those near and dear. And noting the answers.

Why? Because you never know what curveballs life will throw you. By using this time of self-imposed cocooning wisely, we may find out the answers to a lot of questions we didn’t even know we wanted to ask.

So, if the unexpected tragedy strikes, we will have stories worth remembering – stories worth passing on – to sustain us through the darkness.

It’s Christmas – a great time to start documenting those memories.

And, may each new day dawn gently as we go about Preserving Our Blooms and writing down our stories,

Iris Ruth Pastor

THE SECRET TO LIVING THE LIFE THAT YOU CRAVE DURING COVID!

The Center for Disease Control and Prevention is reporting high rates of depression – and political and economic uncertainly is contributing to our feelings of despair – even with the dawning of a number of vaccines on the immediate horizon to fight Covid-19.

How can we counteract these feelings?

How can we surmount our mood of helplessness and hopelessness?

So many of us have missed weddings, graduations, bar and bat mitzvahs, births, and funerals

So many of us have postponed trips

Canceled milestone celebrations

Curtailed social outings

It’s so easy to slip into a permanent mindset of annoyance, frustration, and disappointment – bitterness even – because we won’t get these times back.

What can we do?

Here are some suggestions to change a few things:

All of which involve self-care

All of which involve putting yourself first.

Let us practice resiliency. 

Physical resilience is the ability to spring back into shape after bending, stretching or being compressed – and our lives are certainly being compressed.

And when the definition of resiliency is applied to people, it means being able to withstand or recover from difficult conditions.

So how do we cultivate and practice both types of resiliency?

We focus on the positive – we look for the gifts in the still waters.

Let us utilize our imagination, resources and innovative talents to come up with life-affirming actions we can put into place NOW:

Calling a friend who is lonely to say hello
Collecting food for a family in need
Exercising
Communing with nature
Reaching out to our own support system for sustenance and encouragement
Making a list of what we’d like to do post-Covid – it’s easier to get through difficult times when we have an event or activity or trip to look forward to
Taking advantage of COVID confinement to learn a new skill – knitting, cooking, survey of literature, painting – there are a vast number of courses online
De-cluttering our stuff
Documenting our belongings and keepsakes for those who will come after, identifying all those unfamiliar faces in those long-ago pictures
Writing an ethical will
Going on a healthy exercise and nutrition regiment
Fine-tuning our sleepy time routine to ensure we get as much restful sleep as possible

Let us employ self-compassion

Let us treat ourselves with the same kindness, warmth and patience that we treat people who are near and dear to us.

We may still be in the Covid tunnel of Hell, but the light at the end of it has appeared in the form of vaccines and is glowing brightly and steadily stronger as we approach it. . . 

G-d Bless you all and G-d Bless America.

And Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Iris Ruth Pastor

Hugs, Iris

Read this column if you like doing things YOUR way!

What I love:

You know what I love about having my very own weekly newsletter?

It can be any length

It can be about any subject

It can be with or without images

It can be with or without subtitles

And the subject line can be as long or as short as I choose

For those who know me well, it will come as no surprise that I like doing “my own thing.”

What does that entail?

When it comes to good deeds, I like giving back, but I do so in non-traditional ways:

   The side pocket of the driver’s side of my SUV is stocked with cans of V-8 juice, which I hand out generously whenever I come upon a person walking the intersections of my city, beseeching drivers for food.

   I donate many of my hand-knitted pouches, packed with individually wrapped peppermints, to assisted and independent living facilities around the holidays to bring cheer to those shut in.

   Early in Covid-19, I fashioned face masks out of yarmulkes (Jewish skullcaps) and distributed them in gift bags to all of my neighbors within a two-block area.

What I like:

I like changing things up. Being creative. Innovative. Different. In fact, one of the most consistent comments I get about my weekly newsletter is that readers “expect the unexpected.”

What I do:

This year, I find myself way too often looking around my house in search of projects to de-clutter and re-design my living space. I often quip that “I am organizing my life, not living it.”

 

I decide to tackle the ridiculously large number of books gracing every crevice of every book shelf in my home – threatening to surround me like this poor woman above! I start pulling out volumes I am emotionally ready to part with. This results in a ridiculously large number of books stacked up on both sides of my two-car garage.

My favorite librarian at a quaint little library nearby tells me the local libraries aren’t accepting book donations during Covid. Oh no. I donate to the Salvation Army instead.

There are still many bags of books left in my garage. I sell some to the used bookstore near the university.

I wrack my brain for an innovative, meaningful way to dispose of the remainder of the books – before I waver from my good intentions and place them back on my still over-crowded shelves.

Inspiration strikes. And I hit on an idea:

A BOOK GIVEAWAY FOR MY READERS!

If you’d like one of the books listed below, simply E-mail me at irisruthpastor@gmail.com, request a specific title and include your address. If you are the first to select that title, I will send it right out to you. Free of charge! It’s my way of participating in holiday giving.

Here’s the list of novels in alphabetical order by author:

My Husband’s Sweetheart

by Bridget Asher

Umberlina

by Helen Barololini

The Embers

by Hyatt Bass

Mystery Ride

by Robert Boswell

The Inheritance of Loss

by Kiran Desai

Siracusa

by Delia Ephron

All That I Am

by Anna Funder

The Impossible Lives of Greta Wells

by Andrew Sean Greer

New Year’s Eve

by Lisa Grunwald

Lilah

by Marek Halter

The Museum of Extraordinary Things

by Alice Hoffman

Someone Else’s Love Story

by Joshlyn Jackson

The Journey of the Fottoumo

by Naguib Mahfouz

The Lakeshore Limited

by Sue Miller

And We Are Called to Rise

by Laura McBride

The Winter People

by Jennifer McMahon

The Member of the Wedding

by Carson McCullers

Run

by Ann Patchett

The Tiger’s Wife

by Tea Obreht

Wild December

by Edna O’Brien

After Anna

by Lisa Scottoline

Thera

by Zeruya Shalev

Almost Missed You

by Jessica Strawser

Ashes in the Wind

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

Small Blessings

by Martha Woodroof

Happy Reading,

Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

And let me know how YOU give back,

Iris Ruth Pastor

P.S. A week from today I’m giving a one hour “pep talk” on how to lead the life you crave – especially during Covid!

Below is the link to sign up and a video describing my talk.

https://san-diego.oasiseverywhere.org/product/wisdom-to-live-the-life-you-crave/

What’s Guaranteed to Raise Your Spirits?

What’s Guaranteed to Raise Your Spirits?

I’ll give you a few hints.

It’s available,

cheap,

accessible

and effective.

It’s HUMOR.

Take the following joke as an example:

My wife and I were sitting at a table at her high school  reunion, and she kept staring at a drunken man swigging his drink as he sat alone at a nearby table.

I asked her, “Do you know him?”

“Yes”, she sighed,

“He’s my old boyfriend. I understand he took to drinking  right after we split up those many years ago, and I hear he  hasn’t been sober since.”

“My God!” I said, “Who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?”

Now don’t you feel better already?

One thing that consistently helps us deal with obstacles,

road blocks and bumps in the road

is humor.

Developing our own sense of humor,

and looking for the humor in the daily doings of life

helps us weather instability and change

helps us find balance in very strange environments

helps us evolve and find a comfortable place for ourselves.

Humor reduces stress,

put things in proper perspective,

takes the edge off

and helps us concentrate less

on our disappointments, frustrations and woes.

I recently came across a book titled

Love Poems (for Married People)

by John Kenney.

This is the type of poem

I expected would be included:

Feeling

by Gary R. Hess

Feeling your love caress my heart

Feeling your light touch my soul

Feeling like the golden sun

Feeling the way you move me

Feeling your mind touch my life

Knowing I can’t lose you

For you are my life, heart, and soul

Forever I am yours

That is NOT what I got in

Love Poems (for Married People)

Instead, I read about a guy

who misses the birth of his baby.

Why?

Because he was hungry

and went across the street from the hospital

for a burger and beer

and kinda lost track of time –

Another poem simply titled “Orgy”

ends with the following lines:

Did I say orgy?

Sorry, my mind wandered.

I meant yard work.

Check out your books at home.

The information page at the beginning of the volume

most likely will say the following:

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form …failure to comply with these terms may expose you to legal action and damages for copyright infringement.

Not exactly a warm and fuzzy beginning.

This is how

author John Kenney

starts his book:

Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copywrite laws by not reproducing, scanning or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

Most books have a dedication page

that reads something like:

To Charlie and Brenda

Who make it all possible

Or:

In loving memory of my mother,

who guided me throughout

Not John Kenney.

He simply lists a bunch of first names,

crosses each name out except the last

(his wife’s)

leading the reader to believe

there were many before her!

(There weren’t.)

Love Poems (for Married People)

is the perfect holiday gift.

Inexpensive.

Personal.

Relatable:

And guaranteed to dispel

the “Covid Gloom.”

Happy reading!

Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Iris Ruth Pastor

Thank Goodness Thanksgiving is Over!

Whew.

Thanksgiving is over.

I got past the disappointment of not being with all five of my sons sharing turkey and sweet potato casserole the first time in decades – and then looking around the table at my huge family network as it expanded and contracted over the burgeoning years.

I embraced with optimism the fact that vaccines are on their way. And I continue to adapt to more severe social distancing and cocooning at home now that the Covid 19 deaths and diagnoses are sky rocketing once again.

And when I start to go down the Covid rabbit hole of despair and disappointment? I remind myself that I have a very nice roof over my head, no food insecurity and a shelf in my garage filled with toilet paper and paper towels.

Which brings me to the next issue: How to be kind to my husband. Confined at home, it’s so easy to get naggy and irritated by the random little things he does. Why? Because I am spending so much more time with him now that Covid is raging.

So, as reminder to myself and to others, I decided to run this week a column I wrote on keeping an aging marriage sparkly.

Preserve the Practice of Ritual

When we were first married, every morning my husband would sit on the edge of our king-size bed and circle my slim waist with his massive hands. Facing him, with a large toothed comb in one hand and globs of conditioner in my other hand, I’d transform his mass of dark curly locks into a more professional look. Then he would pull me close for a warm embrace before reluctantly releasing me from his muscled grasp.

This “Harlequin Moment” gradually dwindled both in brevity and regularity with the arrival of babies who grew into toddlers and toddlers who grew into nursery-school goers. Early morning chaos replaced the previous Zen-like beginning of our day.

My husband’s curly locks and heavily muscled back are gone, as is my slim waist. The toddlers are grown with families of their own. No pressing work demands await us. And we wake up once again – just the two of us.

Our new morning ritual begins with me now facing his back, not his chest. Magical cream designed to block nerve pain has replaced the hair pick and conditioner. With long, smooth strokes, I carefully apply the cream to his back, shoulders and lower torso – cream that enables him to walk a few city blocks with relative ease.

The series of actions I performed according to a prescribed order has changed, but the ritual of doing something intimately and consistently with my husband has been re-ignited.

Show your Best Side to your Spouse

My charm, cleverness and sense of humor are often other-directed – into my writing. To my wide circle of friends. To utter strangers. How was I treating the man I had been married to for nearly forty-five years? With shock, I started noticing a shrillness creeping into my voice when I spoke to him. A dismissive, insensitive tone. A condescending way of answering his never-ending basic questions about how to use the note section in his cell phone.

I silently instigated a campaign to “lose the snippiness.” I stopped myself from getting irritated at the way he clapped too loud when watching sports events on TV. I stopped criticizing his relatives, even when I felt I was right. I stopped complaining about his clothes thrown on the floor and his cane invariably left in a place where I would most likely trip over it. I stopped denigrating his food preferences for what I considered to be bland and uninteresting.

Apply Kindness

Instead of leaving him a written, blistering note full of directions and exclamation marks (and a few expletives too), I started politely asking him to call the landscaper and check on the bushes against the southern wall that were withering. Instead of bitchily shooting off strident directions, I started laughing at his inability to take a decent picture with his iPhone. Instead of displaying ill-concealed and irritated impatience, I started respectfully listening to his political opinions with full attention.

The random acts of kindness, gentleness and compassion I’d been showering on friends and strangers was now drizzling down to the most important person in my life – my partner.

It’s funny. There seems to be less clothes on the floor for me to trip over. His camera skills may be improving. He’s not clapping as loudly when OSU scores a touchdown and he’s experimenting with new foods.

Or is it just my imagination?

Perhaps it’s just that my new approach has sharpened my focus on why I fell in love with him in the first place.

Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Iris Ruth Pastor

Maybe

Maybe tomorrow

I’ll walk down to the end of my block

and watch the sun rise

over the bay

at 6:56am.

If I’m not too busy

stretching out my back muscles,

rotating away the

tightness in my shoulders,

unclenching my jaw,

softening my brow.

Maybe tomorrow…

But the plants need watering.

I promised a new blog post

to a coveted website

by the end of the week.

The dryer’s filled with a mass of t-shirts

begging to be folded.

And the pieces of my Thanksgiving project –

destined to replace our lively get together this year –

are sprawled crazily over my kitchen counter –

calling for completion.

Maybe tomorrow,

I’ll walk down to the end of my block

and watch the sun rise

over the bay

at 6:56am.

Maybe.

This Thanksgiving,

when so many of us

are aching to be

with family and friends,

let’s lament our losses less

and glory in the wonders

of nature more.

Take the damn walk. 

Barring the Belly Button at Midlife and Beyond?

Now that the election is over – though by some, the results are still being contested – maybe we can return to the more “important” things in life to consider, such as whether to bar or not bar our belly buttons at midlife and beyond. This is an important question – surfacing at least once a week when I make a furtive trek out of my home into the Covid infested environment.

Susan Bordo, author of Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture, and the Body, says contemporary culture has a hankering for a new piece of feminine beauty to focus on. It seems that with the great amount of surgical breast enhancement going on, the bosom’s enduring symbol of femininity has been diminished. The newest location of body fascination to be prized and flaunted is a flat, evenly tanned, taut belly.

I’m grateful for a lot of things. One is that my mother took great care to make sure my belly button was an “innie” and not an “outie.” As it turns out, that’s a good thing. What with everyone’s preoccupation with flaunting their tummies, I wouldn’t want, at age 73,  to be at a greater disadvantage than I already am.

Being saddled with a protruding navel is the least of my worries at this stage of life, however. I’ve got other issues needing to be resolved as I ponder the question of whether to bar or not bar my midriff.

Evolutionary psychologists are having a field day. The dilemma of the modern day, affluent woman is once again mired in contrasts. We are wealthy enough to eat what we desire, but hemmed in by societal demands to look emaciated and hungry. And what better billboard to project our self-control and self-righteous denial than our midriffs? The buffer the better.

But barring the navel presents another indicator of sorts for professionals to study. Research suggests that the renewed interest in the stomach area shows what has been known for centuries: abdomens have long been the focus of sexual interest. (Belly dancing was said to have begun as a fertility and childbirth ritual.) The exposed navel is now not only a symbol of youth and self-control, but also of fertility and reproductive power.

Hmmm. I’ve had five kids and some abdominal surgery. My body telegraphs my advanced years with aching accuracy. My belly is white, not tan; fleshy, not taut; scarred, not unblemished. Rooted in reality and complacency, I am not motivated to indulge in a tanning booth, begin a rigorous routine of abdominal tightening exercises, nor go under the knife for plastic surgery to smooth out the scars and tuck the tummy.

Am I doomed to be un-hip? Viewed as powerless and unnecessary?

Not oblivious to the constraints I need to work around, I’m resigned to passing up the opportunity to participate in naval tattooing and donning a dangling navel pin. But I’m eagerly contemplating another couple of holes in my ear lobe and slipping on a few toe rings as necessary accouterments to establish the fact that this aging baby boomer is still not out of the game.

Maybe all that real estate surrounding my navel needs to be viewed in a new light. Barring the taut tummy signals fertility. Keeping it covered could just as readily signal that my mission has been accomplished: fertility has been affirmed and my feminine function fulfilled. Surely the presence of my five sons attests to that.

So, I’m showing some deferred maintenance and signs of exterior aging and obsolescence. Let it be noted that vintage is good and that endurance lends a shining patina to my body’s assets.

And everyone knows that real estate assets should be put to the highest and best use. I’ve appraised my property and decided to keep my personal buffet of features under wrap and undercover. I’m not putting it on the market. Instead, I’m going back to the stage of human development when desirability was based not on over exposure, but on mystery and shadowy sightings. And that is the course I choose to follow.

Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Iris Ruth Pastor