Befriending Solitude

 ~ Solitary Aging ~

We found each other, solitude and I 

when death came by 

and chose my heart to die

Alone, I searched the silence 

to help the days go by, to create 

fresh meaning for this life;

sort out my new identity 

Aging on one’s own 

is a personal endeavor   

a private path where solitude 

can become one’s better half

one’s main companion

in all sorrow and in joy

A treasured echo of one’s self

with listening arms to harbor 

fleeting thoughts, ponderings

safely shared and held

Where ideas can be brainstormed

while understanding forms in

the quiet of alone pervading 

this singular new norm

JoMae

5/31/24

Hope from my Journey — Befriending Solitude

Dream: Woman Wading

~ Woman Wading ~

I seldom, if ever, wake up knowing I have dreamed.  Yet this morning was one of those rare days.  Makes me wonder, why this morning? The only thing I can think of is that I knew going to sleep last night that this would be a totally open ended day. No phone date to work around. No one stopping by. Some notes to write or other pleasant ‘might do’ items on my daily list. No musts or shoulds breathing down my neck. 

After a wonderful weekend with guests, Monday was empty and perfect for regrouping. Tuesday was a rare gorgeous Spring day with my grandson who came to help clean up the yard - followed by a fun zoom with widowed friends in the evening.  Wednesday was loose with a long wonderful phone call scheduled in the afternoon. But today, nothing is scheduled. I love a totally open ended day like this when it happens. I often spend much of it writing. It feels extra indulgent in my already indulgent life with no one to be responsible for but myself. 

So I wonder why I woke this morning knowing I’d just been walking in a huge lake - or perhaps it was the ocean. Not dressed for swimming. Just in shorts and summer top. I’d been sitting on the sand in the sun and simply decided to get up and walk out into the shallow water.  Then  finally, when up to my waist, quietly turned around and walked back to the shore.  I don’t know if I was alone or with others - or who those others may have been.  I was simply enjoying myself. 

For 5 years now I’ve been having quiet days alone. Adjusting to suddenly being on my own. Thankful for my home and all the memories captured here. For my family. Yet without John there is always the ache for what was so long familiar - now severed.  The camaraderie of long lived love. 

My main occupation now is to read and write. In need of having a purpose in my life, (this chapter where for the first time in all my days, absolutely no one needs me or depends on me for anything) I study and ponder a great deal - which occupies most of my time. Not only does no one need me, I have not found a niche in which to do for others in a meaningful way. A nudge to participate in the give and take of what was once daily living. I do participate in zoom gatherings a few times a week. Also in phone calls, texts etc with my kids. But I think I’m past the time for me to go out to volunteer. At 84, no longer driving, and not steady on my feet, I don’t see much that I could do. 

I rarely watch tv or movies. But this week, for some reason, I’ve craved escaping into a film - and have watched one Prime Movie each day or evening. Pure escape. Often silly. Totally non purposeful. I don’t know how long that yen will continue. Nor what switched in my mind that something once deemed frivolous and unattractive suddenly has become a delightful escape!

Perhaps it is connected to other changes I am working toward. Within a year (I hope) I will be leaving the warm blanket of this old home where we/I have lived almost 45 years - and downsizing to an apartment in a Sr Living Community.  While I am comfortable here, I’ve become quite isolated and find myself more than ready all of a sudden to be in community again. A place where I can physically participate in as many or few activities as I please, yet be self sufficient in my own apartment. I’m quite  excited at the prospect. 

After so many years of being active in one group or another, the mainstay of which has always been our church, death, and then the pandemic - along with aging, has effectively put an end to all of that. My group contacts are mostly via zoom now and I guess I’m suddenly ready for more. I’m not looking for a bosom buddy, but I do hope to make a few friends in my new place. It does seem to be a friendly climate. When I have toured or visited, the people tend to smile when passing in the halls with a pleasant hello.  

Here in my neighborhood of large old city homes - most of which are now apartments, even after all these years, strangely, I don’t know most neighbors. We used to take frequent evening walks. Now I cannot do that - nor do I care to by myself. In the summer I often work on the front porch and nod a warm hello to folks walking by who might catch my eye. Some may even be familiar, but I don’t know them.  I’m hoping to get to know a few people at the Meadows. 

So back to the young woman in my dream. She is confident, happy and content.  As she walked deeper into the water, she was tempted to dive in and swim but it had been so long she wasn’t sure she still knew how to swim, (nor, she thought, was she prepared with a towel) so continued enjoying her wet walk.  

Perhaps she is a reflection of the woman I am today. Sticking to what she is confident about, yet moving forward with joyful anticipation. A bit  cautious yet eager to try something new.

JoMae

4/7/22 

Dancing With Words

~ Dancing With Words ~

When mourning turns to dancing

in the rhythm of the words that

pour onto the page to purge

the depths of sorrow, rage

to search for meaning in

disaster, comfort in the

loss as insight buried

deep within rises to

the surface of the

mind — bearing

wisdom stored

for such time

as this 

like a firm

fishing pole

patiently finds

its catch so my

pen  plumbs the

depths of my quest

to understand a loss

so deep, yet wider than

any ocean, as empty and

disorienting as being adrift

at sea — until answers begin

to emerge in the shape of hope

and direction as to navigating this

unknown world with new purpose

JoMae

1/14/22

Love Stays

 ~ Love Stays ~

Loss cannot destroy our love

only change the shape  of

how it stays with us, now

an  echo beating in the

heart, a foundation to

build a new life upon

new forms of

Joy 

JoMae

1/4/22

Love  Loss LifeLessons MovngOn NewJoy 

Morning Routine

~ Morning Routine ~

I come with coffee

to my pondering chair

where I begin to read or

write or wonder for a while

until something stops me in

my tracks, compelling me to

write down what it brought to

mind a poem memory or new

insight to explore to help me

understand,  enjoy this life

this gift that I’ve been led

to after loss.  This new

person I am finding in

the quiet of my day

This New Joy  

JoMae

1/4/22

A poem emerging...

Dreamers

~ Dreamers ~

We pour our minds onto the page like spilled ink 

not black ink, but many colors of the rainbow

sharing our dreams, spilling our sorrows

sorting worries that have turned out ok

and what we can make of all not ok

We look back, look forward; rejoice, despair

we tear down,  we repair,  life goes on

Our dreams remember the good and the bad

sprout blossoms of what might have been

and what still can be - who we can be

what we can make of ourselves

to color our world again

JoMae

11/2/21

Dear Heart

Death - Birth Of New Beginnings

~ Dear Heart ~

When you were lifted from the train

it stopped and I was taken off as well

each thrown into separate destinations

against our will - yours was named death

mine, death of all I’d ever found familiar

Stepping into unknown foreign worlds

I floundered into a dark void  where

silence reigns, terrains heave and

old norms seem upside down

<><><><><>

Until in time new time begins

an after chapter writes itself

out of old ink melded from

before - a fresh identity

gliding on the sweet

echo of your wings

dear heart, a new

JoMae

JoMae

9/19/21

A gift of death that did us part…

Mantle Of Love

~ Mantle of Love ~

As subtle as a wispy cloud

the visions come to me

breathing softly on my heart

in dreams of memory

Moments long now disappeared

float as a mystery to cheer, to

bring a smile, recall the touch

of the love we held so dear

Soft as a geranium's blossom

warm as a tender hug, may

the mantle of our long love lost

soothe my soul forever

JoMae

9/11/21

Winter Solstice

Winter Sunset - Photo by Emelia Spoelhof

~ Winter Solstice ~

Beyond the window skies are overcast

within the heart as well. Grey hovers

over Christmas with unseen clouds

of melancholy tempering one’s joy

Between - inside the room, a smile beams

if anyone should ask - we’re doing well

- a mask worn like a decorated cast

to hold one’s self together

It’s December, for some a month of loss

yet the season of expectation to be

joyful in spite of multi-level angst

pandemic pain, new mourning

Yet when the sun’s warm glow

creeps past cloudy edges amid

 cheerful bursts of Christmas tunes

smothered joy breaks through anew!

~ Messiah Mystery ~

Trusted Light of Hope

JoMae

12/22/20

Labor Day

~ John's Labor of Love ~

~ Labor Day ~

I wake to another Monday Morning.  One that should feel a little different because this is Labor Day. A holiday. We often did not make a big thing of holidays. Simply spent them together. We might not go any where or gather friends around, yet the day felt different.  That in itself colored the hours as we lingered over coffee or fixed a hamburger. 

When we spent holidays alone we liked it that way. I marvel over what a difference it makes when a couple is alone or when one is alone.  This day too, I’ll spend with myself.  And it’s ok. Almost 4 years now, I should be used to it.  

Thankfully, I keep busy with my pages.  Books. A lot of thinking. The pages I fill with words born of that thinking - and with my blog pages and other media waiting for the work I wish to share.  

It will be a day like any other.  Every once in a while I’ll look up and remember that this is Labor Day.  I’ll read articles considering this special day. I’ll wander to the kitchen for another cuppa and tell the sink full of dishes - hey, it’s Labor Day after all.  Maybe later. Then return to my favorite chair and the page I’m working on.

At first, coming to grips with being on my own, I saw this as a new chapter. So different than the one before. So unexpected, foreign and disorienting. A chapter difficult to find my way into; difficult to write.  Gradually I realized, these years are not just a new chapter.  This is a whole new book.

I’m trying to make it a good book. One that shows how in every loss lies buried gifts - to be opened when the time is right. Small seeds to nurture into blossoms.   New responsibilities to grow into. A book reminding us that every ending is a new beginning - and to trust, to savor it’s unfolding. For I’ve learned already that when/if another loss occurs, I will be ok. I might be scared, but will be ok.  

If mine were a real book, I’d name it 

~ Hope ~

JoMae

9/7/20

Suddenly Solitary

~ Aging Alone ~

I used to see old widows suddenly on their own

and wonder what she did all day alone inside her home

and now I know

I find something fun to read, to make me laugh aloud

I read a psalm to frame my prayer

I think of some old friend to let them know I care

I stumble on a thought provoking article and write my feelings out

I read a novel to travel worlds away and back again refreshed

I study life long interests and ponder new development

I write to sort out all that I am gaining

I’ve learned to gather via zoom and even study there

my days fly by

Another’s list is different. We’re each unique

yet I’ve learned beyond death’s loss

life can be complete again 

JoMae

9/2/20

This morning I was reading an article totally different from these thoughts yet it triggered a need to stop and capture these first lines as they popped into my head. The rest poured out like a brain burp.

Psalm 56 Echo

~ Finding Peace on Dark Days ~

(Pondering Psalm 56)

Psalm 56:1-4 NIV

For the director of music. To the tune of “A Dove on Distant Oaks.” Of David.

A miktam. ^b When the Philistines had seized him in Gath.
https://biblehub.com/niv/psalms/56.htm

Be merciful to me, my God,

for my enemies are in hot pursuit;

all day long they press their attack.

My adversaries pursue me all day long;

in their pride many are attacking me.

When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.

In God, whose word I praise—

in God I trust and am not afraid.

What can mere mortals do to me
<><><><><>

How can David’s song inspire my day all these years later and as far removed by situation as by time.  I am not oppressed by enemies wanting to harm me.  I know others in my day are. I know that many in this very summer live in the palpable fear of being attacked by the covid19 pandemic and/or its accompanying crisis, while I live rather isolated in my comfortable home, cautious yet protected by family and friends willing to care about and shop for me. 

Yet I wonder if Psalms like this, while reminding of life threatening fear and suffering many endure, also hold a template to help express the agony of non lethal life struggles. 

Godde was certainly merciful to me when my enemy, death, was in hot pursuit and with one last hard pressed attack, won the battle. Removed the one who loved me more than any - and in so doing caused the self I knew, to die as well.  No. Physically I did not die. Yet in the twinkling of an eye, ALL changed for me as well.  Life norms, so long familiar within the safe circle of ‘we’ were now gone. I’d been transplanted into a foreign world whose terrain, customs and culture must be learned. Whose language I did not understand. 

So I found refuge in the safe embrace of the familiar home we built together - loathe to leave its walls and all the memories they held. So much the same, yet even here each room held an ’elephant’ named silence. Deathly quiet formed a huge black hole, a vacant void holding the deafening echo of John’s absence, his missing presence.  It seemed only half a home without our mingled voices.

——

Now over three years on this path of being on my own. Of being ‘me’ - no longer ‘we’ - I’m finding ‘home’ again.  Still rooted in the old yet discovering new skills and interests, (while honing the old) polishing emerging gifts, learning new ways, embracing the joy of solitude.  At first, alone and lost in the void, unable to focus even on reading a book - which had always been my escape and rescue - I grabbed the only other lifeline within reach.  I began to fill a page with words - another long loved habit/hobby. I’d often written notes to myself in an effort to sort out the chaos inherent in raising our wonderful boisterous growing family. In thinking through the best way to respond to unexpected questions and challenges. It had become a pattern for reflecting on life and truth. 

As I wrote and pondered, the loss didn’t go away, but out of it, new gifts appeared. Small skills developed. Poems popped up.  A dream to share them was born.  I felt thankful, not for death - which by now I had accepted, but for silent time to read, think and write to my heart’s content - which did flow from death’s wake.  I am now thankful for this new life to which I've been transplanted and for all I’m finding here. Thankful also for this era of online media where one’s work can so readily be shared and find a home. And most of all, for the joy of writing born anew.

Thankful for friends and family far and near, including those online I will never meet in person, yet whose writing and voices steadily sustain.  And for my Godde whose Love encases all, who holds me safe with frequent rescue and guides me back when wandering. When I am afraid, I put my trust in Godde whose Word I praise — in whom I trust and therefore need not be afraid. 

<><><><><>

When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.

In God, whose word I praise—

in whom I trust and am not afraid.

What can mere mortals do to me

 (Ps 56:3-4 NIV)

JoMae

7/25/20

Today's reflection prompted by Psalm 56