spirituality, aging

A Ritual for 75

/ nagneberg48 / 2 Comments

June 27, 2023

Wednesdays are my designated writing days; one day each week to write for venues other than my blog. After recently submitting essays to two online publications, I felt unfocused. I had no shortage of ideas, topics, and themes to explore, but I felt unsettled. As someone who likes to be productive and certainly doesn’t want to waste my precious Writing Wednesdays, I was irritated with myself.

The majority of my essay ideas relate to aging as a spiritual practice. I jotted down possible topics, including clearing the space, sacred yes and sacred no, and opening to a more contemplative life. These topics all appeal to me, and I think are important ones to share with others, but I just couldn’t move my fingers on the keyboard. Sigh.

Then I remembered the collage I made when I turned 70 in 2018. I made that collage both to honor that milestone birthday, but also to envision how I hope to live as I age. For the past five years that collage has been a touchstone as I made decisions about ways to spend my time and use my gifts.

Perhaps it was time to make a new collage. I turned 75 this past April, and frankly, that new number felt daunting to me. Scary is too strong of a word, but I confess I didn’t feel as lighthearted or as blasé about this birthday as I have in other years. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful to be 75 and beyond grateful for the privileged, lovely, and loving life I have, but still, I can feel myself holding my breath as I think about this time in my life.

Making the Collage

I quickly sifted through the stash of pictures I keep in a pretty flowered box; pictures torn out of magazines, outdated calendars, and greeting cards too appealing to toss. I quickly sorted them into two piles: the “maybe” pile and the “nope, not today” pile. Selecting some of the images from the “maybe” pile, I arranged and pasted pictures on two pages of a large sketchbook. I did this quickly, not reflectively.

Almost every collage I have made over the years has included at least one open door, and this one is no exception, but beyond the doorway is darkness.

I also see a hazy picture of a person holding an open book, along with shelves of books in a light comfortable setting that reminds me of my beloved garret. And a sleek fountain pen similar to the one I use when I write in my journal; a long-ago gift from my husband.

Fall scenes and winter scenes. A branch of bittersweet, and an empty porch swing covered with snow. A lit lantern, a feather, a view through the windshield of a car. Two people at sunset.

And words.

Light

Breath

View from here

Prayer

Pause

Content

I selected two quotations, as well.

You don’t always have to try so hard to live each day to the fullest. Each day is full all on its own. All you have to do is notice.

Hold company with yourself so sacred that even when you are alone you are whole.

First Responses

The first thing I noticed was how I felt after completing the collage. I felt calm, quiet. I felt more peaceful about this stage of my life.

My second response was that I didn’t need to understand or uncover the deeper meaning of the collage at that very moment. I am willing to let the collage’s guidance unfold over time, but I am not blind to the fact that this collage reflects my own season of life–fall into winter. And in many ways it is a bittersweet time. And a time of ongoing losses, but still there is light. There is companionship. There is time to read and write and be.

And I chuckled about the word “content.” Do I mean content as in subject matter or materials? Or am I referring to the adjective meaning “satisfied”? Or both?

Ah, there is much more to mine here.

Revisiting My 70 Collage

This collage is busier, full of activity and lighter, greener, lusher. More than one allusion to openness–open gates, open door, open window and a path stretching in front of me. Along with a labyrinth. I think to myself, “There must not have been any pictures of a labyrinth in my box of pictures or surely, I would have included it on my 75th collage.”

Of course there are books, but also a feather in this collage, too. A house that looks very much like our garage and a smiling older woman. I also take note of the prickly plant in the corner of the page and a pile of rocks that seem to taunt, “Beware. Obstacles ahead.”

Scattered on the collage are the following phrases: Choose simplicity, keep growing, learn something new, make room for what matters, and breathe deeply. It occurs to me how much those words describe my life in the last five years and how much those words still appeal to me–and give me direction.

Next Steps

I know over time I will reflect on the similarities and the differences between the two collages and what this new collage offers me in this stage of life. I will ask myself what surprised me and what is missing.

Over the years I have created collages as part of receiving or clarifying my word for the year. I also create a new collage when I clear my bulletin board and just can’t part with each image. In other words the ritual of creating a collage is a nurturing spiritual practice and an aid to ongoing discernment.

An Invitation

Do you have any rituals to mark a significant birthday or occasion in your life? I would love to know.

Summer Spirituality

/ nagneberg48 / 4 Comments

June 20, 2023

After leaving “Paris,” our side garden and quiet, private space where I often enjoy lunch during the summer, and following the walkway to the back door to return to work time in the garret, this is what I see. Lushness. A multitude of colors and textures. Evidence of God’s creation, but also humanity’s creativity and effort.

I often say I am more of a winter person than a summer person, and that is basically true, but then I breathe in this beauty, thanks to the gifts of the master gardener with whom I live, and I think some part of me must be a summer person, too.

Perhaps acknowledging that I am more than one thing–that I am a winter person, a summer person, a fall person–is a reminder to continue the spiritual journey towards wholeness. To reach towards the person I was created to be, as my awareness of that whole creation continues to unfold.

Notice that I didn’t say I am a spring person. Minnesota often skips the spring season, going from snowstorm to heat stroke without the in-between of temperatures steadily and gently becoming warmer. The need for short sleeve shirts and open windows, along with a desire for trips to the lake, happens when our closets are still stuffed with winter coats, hats, mittens, and boots, and beds bulge with flannel sheets and heavy quilts.

Spring seems confusing to me, even irritating. I can do without the spring one day and the return to winter again the next. I have trouble finding a rhythm that works for me in the spring and spend time trying to understand what is basically unknown–as in “Is spring finally, actually here?” Probably not.

L. M. Montgomery, the author of the Anne of Green Gables books, once wrote , “I wonder what it would be like to live in a world where it was always June.” Is that a wistful statement; a statement wishing it was always June? is that mainly an awareness of the beauties of June or is it a desire for the status quo, a comfort with the ways things are in the moment? Or is it a statement of concern? What if nothing ever changed? What if we didn’t grow? What if life was one way and one way only? What would happen if I remained tethered to my younger self and didn’t grow further into wisdom?

If I am to continue to grow into wholeness, as I know in my heart, the Divine, the Holy, desires for me, then I am called to be a spring person, too. I’m not sure exactly what that means, but perhaps summer will give me some perspective.

The seasons change. Today is a summer day and tomorrow will be, too. but it will be one day closer to fall. Today I am 75, two months, and 6 days old, and tomorrow I will add one more day to that tally or, if the unknown and unexpected occurs, I will no longer be any age. I think I am beginning to learn during these elder years how all the seasons of our lives add up to the wholeness of a life, the totality of who we were given the opportunity to be.

I hereby declare I am a summer person. I am a fall person. I am a winter person, and yes, I am a spring person, too. And I don’t want to waste one day or take any day, any season for granted.

Bloom where you are planted.

Mary Engelbreit

So you think this is just another day in your life? it’s not just another day. It is the one day that is given to you…today.

Br. David Steindl-Rast

An Invitation

At the recent writing group I facilitate, I posed the following questions for reflection:

  • What have you learned during the winter and spring months that will enhance these summer months? What do you bring with you from the recent months? What is unfinished? What do you need to leave behind?
  • What do you need this summer? A change of pace and/or place? Rest? Inspiration? Connection? What is the call for this summer?
  • What are your hopes for the summer? What is possible? What might the challenges be this summer?
  • Is there a spiritual practice calling you or a new approach or intention for something you already do? How might you open more to the presence of God in your life?

Your thoughts? I would love to know.

Middle of the Night Musings

/ nagneberg48 / 12 Comments

June 13, 2023

Late in the day the rains came, along with fresh breezes. How good it was to sleep snuggled under a quilt, windows open, the curtains gently fluttering, and the sound of the chimes playing a newly composed melody.

I woke several times during the night, not unusual for this elder, and each time I heard the light sprinkle of the chimes–less an intrusion and more of an invitation to hold lightly the thoughts of the day and the hopes for the ones to come.

The previous days had been dominated by my husband’s garage sale of the discarded furniture he had transformed with paint, stencils, and transfers. As I have mentioned before in this blog, all the proceeds go to support Rezek House for youth experiencing homelessness. Not only did he receive high compliments for his creative skills, but many who stopped by were interested to learn about the work Lutheran Social Services does for youth. And, of course, the sale meant he is able to hand over a nice chunk of cash!

The garage sale is his thing, not mine, and I thought about how easy and outgoing he is with all those who stop by. He is always pleasant no matter how often he hears someone say, “I don’t need a thing.” My inclination would be to say, “Then why are you spending your time going to garage sales?” He reminds me that garage sales are social events, and he enjoys chatting and hearing people’s stories. I just want to leave the lunch I fixed for him and return to the garret.

Instead of being too hard on myself, which would have led to much tossing and turning, I reminded myself that I am an introvert. I know when and how to use the skills of extroversion, but I am always aware of the rhythm that works best for me. I am definitely not a hermit. I am grateful for the friendships in my life, for my beloved community, and all the other ways of connecting with others, but over the years I have learned when it is time for me to retreat.

As the chimes continued to sing in the branches, I recalled words in one of Glenn Mitchell’s daily “Prayer Notes.” He said writing has been “a way to extrovert my introversion.” Yes, that’s it. That’s what I do. Writing, as a spiritual practice, is a form of communion, not only with God, but with others. I took a deep breath and fell asleep.

The next time I woke, the breezes still lifting the chimes, I felt more awake and decided to move into the living room and read for awhile. I put on my robe, enjoying the coolness, and sat in the dark for a moment before turning on a reading light. Ah, the silence, the emptiness of the hour. I’ve learned I am unable to force myself to fall back asleep, and besides, the unplanned extra reading time is never a waste, especially when the book is so delightful. (Stay tuned–the Thursday Book Report will reveal the title and author.)

The next time I woke I heard a siren in the distance, along with the backyard chimes. I whispered, “May all be well,” and also sighed in gratitude for all those who respond to emergencies. I lifted each name on my prayer list–the chimes tolling for healing and hope and love and compassion for each one.

And finally, in the morning the chimes accompanied my waking and moving into the day. Even now I hear them. Companions as I open myself to the possibilities, the gifts of this day.

Perhaps tomorrow the air will be still, and the chimes will need to wait patiently for another time to be an active presence. In the meantime, I will do my best to stay awake to the other ways to know and feel the Presence.

The breezes at dawn have secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep.

Jalaluddin Rumi

An Invitation

In what ways have you experienced Presence recently? I would love to know.

Clearing a Space

/ nagneberg48 / 6 Comments

June 6, 2023

My bulletin board was overflowing, and it was time to clear the space.

I re-read each greeting card from the holidays between New Year’s and June. Valentine’s Day, Easter, Mother’s Day, along with birthday greetings. I felt the love and blessings all over again. In addition there were thank you notes, a get well card for earlier in the year when a miserable cold wiped me out, and a handmade sympathy card sent after a dear friend died. The handwritten message inside another card decorated with hearts said simply and perfectly, “You are loved.”

Along with images that I liked and wanted to keep (a woman standing in front of full book cases, a wintry scene, an abstract of water and sky)were pictures of our family, including one of the last photos taken of my father.

And in the middle was a verse from Romans 15: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.”

It was quite the pile of love.

Ah, a dilemma. Now what? Do I just toss them? Some cards I placed in my current journal, and I added a couple others to the box where I keep images for collages and to use as visual prompts for the writing group I facilitate, but yes, others I tossed. That is part of the deal when you clear the space.

I can see my bulletin board from my desk and over the months I have often lifted my eyes from the screen or the page and glanced at what I saved and treasured. Each time I head up or down the stairs I pass the bulletin board with its energy of hope, and good wishes, and memory, and I am reminded of the fullness, the richness of my days.

For now the bulletin board looks like this:

I need my father’s photo there. Just because. And that is true for the photo of our family taken at Christmas when we were all together. Maybe that will be replaced with a new picture when we all gather in July.

I have no doubt the many little pinprick holes will be filled eventually, and I smile thinking about the possibilities of the days and memories to come. I have made room for them on my bulletin board –and in my heart.

An Invitation

What do you do with cards and other mementos? I would love to know.

NOTE 1:

The bulletin board may be empty, but the backyard is lush and colorful, thanks to the ongoing gifts of my gardener husband.

NOTE 2:

This coming Thursday, Friday and Saturday, June 8-10 my husband Bruce will have his annual garage sale (alley behind our home, 2025 Wellesley Avenue, St Paul). He has been painting and transforming discarded furniture and other home decor accessories all winter. The proceeds from his sale support Rezek House, a transitional living program for youth experiencing homelessness. Rezek House is located in St Paul and is sponsored by Lutheran Social Services. I will post pictures of some of what is available later, but here are some images from last year–everything sold, by the way!

Re-reading Amanda Gorman’s “The Hill We Climb”

/ nagneberg48 / 6 Comments

May 30, 2023

My mouth dropped open when I heard the reports about Amanda Gorman’s poem, “The Hill We Climb,” being removed from shelves in the elementary school section of the library in a K-8 Florida school. One parent said the poem included “hate messages” that served to “cause confusion and indoctrinate students.” The objection to the book did not include examples from the poem to support the parent’s argument.

I always wonder when I hear about yet another book being banned (or in this case, the school argues, it was not banned, but rather, “moved.”) if those who are so concerned about a specific book have actually read the book. In this case I also wondered if they had seen Amanda Gorman read her poem at President Biden’s inauguration–days after the January 6 attack on the Capitol.

When I heard the reports about the attack on her poem, I remembered how striking this young woman appeared in her tailored yellow coat, a column of gold, standing and speaking confidently as our country’s leaders sat behind her listening intently. I remember the beauty of her hands –motioning not in accusation, but beckoning all of us to climb the hill of justice, the people we have always said we want to be. I’m afraid I don’t remember what Biden said in his speech, although I remember thinking, “Good job. This is a good start.” But I do remember, however, Gorman’s play on words: “‘just is’ isn’t always justice.”

I don’t remember words of hate.

I don’t remember thinking “Oh dear, this could be really confusing for young children to read or hear.”

But then again I am an old woman and I forget where I put my phone and just this morning I misplaced a favorite pen, so perhaps I needed to read “The Hill We Climb” again. I had purchased a copy of the poem, with its Forward by Oprah Winfrey –the complainant said Winfrey was the author–as soon as the book was published.

I read the whole poem aloud. And then I read it again, pausing often, asking myself, “Is this phrase full of hate?” 

Somehow, we've weathered and witnessed
A nation that isn't broken, but simply 
    unfinished
...
To compose a country committed
To all cultures, colors, characters,
And conditions of man.
And so we lift our gazes not
To what stands between us,
But what stands before us.
We close the divide,
Because we know to put
Our future first, we must first
Put our differences aside.
...
We seek harm to none, and harmony for all.
...
We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover,
In every known nook of our nation,
In every corner called our country,
Our people, diverse and dutiful.
We'll emerge, battered, but beautiful.
...

I found no hate. I found hope wound in an out of the hard work required of us all.

In a way I am glad this decision by a Florida school has come to our attention, for it highlights the gift of Gorman’s words. Jo Harjo, the twenty-third Poet Laureate of the United States, in her book Catching the Light refers to poets when she writes, “As scribes of our generation, we are called to remember what matters.” (p. 39) She also says every poem is a prayer, and Gorman led us in prayer.

I found no hate.

One more note. I believe children generally know what they can handle, what they are ready to read–and it is usually more than what we give them credit for. People who want material removed from libraries or classrooms often do that, they claim, in order to protect their children from things they aren’t old enough to understand, from what might be confusing or might influence them in an unhealthy way. I am more inclined to believe that those parents are protecting themselves from the need to explore hard questions with their children and from confronting their own contradictions and fears. I wonder if they aren’t afraid they might not really believe what they say they believe if they open themselves to a different vision. 

The new dawn blooms as we free it,
For there is always light,
If only we're brave enough to see it,
If only we're brave enough to be it.

An Invitation

Can you recall a time when a book led to a serious or deep conversation with a child? I would love to know.

Amnda Gorman reciting her poem at Biden Inauguration: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LZ055ilIiN4

A Week in Review

/ nagneberg48 / 4 Comments

May 23, 2023

Have you noticed how some weeks just glow? The days flow with a kind of ease. Perhaps there are more than your usual share of special moments or perhaps the ordinary becomes extraordinary. This past week was one of those weeks, beginning with Mother’s Day and rich family time and ending on Saturday with a top-down drive in my husband’s Miata to a favorite nursery and an outdoor lunch in small town on the St Croix River.

In between I enjoyed productive writing time–writing my posts for the week, as well as working on an essay to submit to a publication. Oh how good it was to write in “Paris.”

I met with my spiritual director and we explored the ways I am lightening my life as I age, including a shorter haircut –silly or trivial as that may sound. I met with spiritual direction clients and the writing group I facilitate. The moments of silence, of sitting with one another open my heart and clear the space for what most needs tending. Such a privilege those times are.

The grandkids delivered homemade cookies one evening (delicious) and another evening we had dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, Sea Salt overlooking Minnehaha Falls. I walked every morning and read on the patio. Finished a book and started another.

We attended a gala for Theater Latte Da, a local theater that specializes in musicals, often new and never before produced, and enjoyed time with friends but also the wonderful musical entertainment. Once I figured out what I was going to wear, all was well!

One morning I went to the Minneapolis Institute of Arts (MIA) to see an exhibit called “Eternal Offerings, Chinese Ritual Bronzes.” Yes, the objects created to honor ancestors or to communicate with the spiritual world were beautiful, but the atmosphere created —sound, murals on the walls, lighting— all added to the appreciation of the objects. I took my time moving through the rooms–allowed myself to relax into the beauty and the history, as well as the spiritual life of a culture not my own. I had not been to MIA for a long time and made a mental note to return soon.

The Foundation of Each Day

I began each day reading a meditation from You are the Beloved, Daily Meditations for Spiritual Living by Henri J. M. Nouwen, compiled and edited by Gabrielle Earnshaw. Perhaps this past week shimmered for me because each of those readings so resonated with me, beginning on Sunday, May 14 when Nouwen writes about prayer as a “careful attentiveness to the Presence of Love personified inviting us to an encounter.”

I felt as if I encountered God each day, wherever I was, whatever I was doing, and whomever I was with.

Contemplative prayer can be described as an imagining of God’s Son, Jesus, letting him enter fully into our consciousness so that he becomes the icon always present in the inner room of our heart.

May 15

…many words from the Scriptures can reshape the inner self. When I take the words that strike me during a service into the day and slowly repeat them while reading or working, more or less chewing on them, they create new life.

May 16

But when we believe that we are created in the image of God himself and come to realize that Christ came to let us reimagine this, then meditation and prayer can lead us to our true identity.

May 17

Listen to your heart…Praying is first and foremost listening to Jesus who dwells in the very depths of your heart.

May 18

Prayer allows us to lead into the center of our hearts not only those who love us but also those who hate us. This is possible only when we are willing to make our enemies part of ourselves and thus convert them first of all in our own hearts.

May 19

Just because prayer is the most precious expression of being human, it needs the constant support and protection of the community to grow and flower.

May 20

Here it is day three of the current week, and my days continue to flow, to glow, to shimmer, to open me to the movement and presence of God. Ah, how grateful I am.

An Invitation

What do you notice as you review your days? I would love to know.

Notes about Spiritual Practices

/ nagneberg48 / 8 Comments

May 16, 2023

Every morning our neighbors across the street walk the block and a half to the Catholic Church for mass.

Every morning.

Attending the service is certainly a spiritual practice that no doubt strengthens their faith, but the walk itself is a spiritual practice: a time to prepare for the ritual of worship and prayer; a time to open to the movement and presence of God, a reinforcement of the gifts of contemplation; and perhaps, incentive to be partners in God’s reconciling love for the world.

That’s a lot happening in a short round-trip walk, but when you make room for a spiritual practice in your daily life and commit to a regular practice, God will notice and you will notice God. 

Is there anything I can do to make myself enlightened?
As little as you can do to make the sunrise in the morning.
Then what use are the spiritual exercises you prescribe?
To make sure you are not asleep when the sun begins to rise.
                              Anthony de Mello

I’ve written often in this blog and elsewhere about spiritual practices and the role they play in aiding the discovery of and living as the person God created me to be. That process is an ongoing pilgrimage, and I need spiritual practices to fortify and sustain me in my intentions:

  • To feel God’s presence and support,
  • To feel connected to the whole,
  • To integrate the model of Jesus into my life,
  • To give my life meaning, even as I age,
  • To move from fear to love.

I have core spiritual practices; practices that have been part of my life for a long time, including writing in my journal and starting the day with meditation and prayer time, but at various times in my life, and often with a change of the season, I add in other practices to spark and surprise me as I move through my days. Two examples:

  • Take one photograph on my daily walk. Just one. Right now as spring is bursting how tempting it is to click, click, click on my walk, but confining myself to one photograph only seems to open my eyes even more. When I see something of beauty, of interest I stop and ask myself, “What do you notice? How is this a sign of God? What does this sight awaken in you? What of this moment will you carry with you?” Even when I decide not to take photograph at that moment, the pause, the taking a breath, the observing is a gift that becomes part of who I am and how God is present in my life. And somehow I seem to know when it is time for the one photograph of the day. No doubts. No hesitation. It is time. Do I ever regret not taking a picture of something I’ve seen. Not so far, but that could happen. Instead, that makes me aware of the abundance of wonders all around me, and understanding I can never capture them all. Why not let my one picture of the day symbolize the whole, the all.
  • Adopt a mantra and whisper it throughout the day. Lately, thanks to a meditation in You Are the Beloved, Daily Meditations for Spiritual Living by Henri Nouwen, I recite the words, “I am the glory of God.” I repeat the sentence as I walk up the stairs to the garret or make the bed in the morning or open the refrigerator when it is time to fix dinner. I change the mantra to “You are the glory of God,” as I see my husband working his magic in the garden or I insert the name of a spiritual direction client as I sit in silence before the beginning of a session. Here’s what Nowen writes,

Make that thought the center of your meditation so that it slowly becomes not only a thought but a living reality. You are the place where God chose to dwell, you are the topos tou theou (God’s place) and the spiritual life is nothing more or less than to allow that space to exist where God can dwell, to create the space where his glory can manifest itself. In your meditation you can ask yourself, “Where is the Glory of God? If the glory of God is not there where I am, where else can it be?”

May 10, p. 144
  • Planning the week. On Sunday I turn the page of the notebook I keep on the top of my desk and I write down the schedule for the week. The events, the appointments. Yes, those are on my laptop and phone calendars, but writing them on this clean page is an act of mindfulness, of blessing. I also create my To Do lists for three categories–Writing Tasks, Church Tasks, and Other Tasks. Again, doing this on the Sabbath is an act of mindfulness and blessing. I’ve been blessed with a fresh start, another week to live with intention, but even more than that, with gratitude for this life I am privileged to live.

During the Sunday service one of our members played a gorgeous piano solo. He is a busy physician, husband and father, and I imagine that playing the piano is relaxing for him, but as I listened to him, I had no doubt this was a form of spiritual practice for him, also. All of us listening received the fruits of that spiritual practice.

Practices are a way of embodying the spiritual journey rather than merely thinking about it. Practices help us to bring the reality of what we seek into the physicality and earthiness of our lives.

Christine Valters Paintner

An Invitation

What are your spiritual practices? What is currently part of your life that is actually a spiritual practice without your realizing it? I would love to know.

Clearing and Creating New Space

/ nagneberg48 / 10 Comments

May 9, 2023

Recently, my husband “suggested” that it is time to simplify the kitchen cupboards. After all, we have twelve white plates, but we use the same two over and over.

And bowls–how many bowls are really necessary? Cereal bowls, mixing bowls, pasta bowls, serving bowls. I admit I do have a thing about bowls. One of my favorite bowls is the light blue bowl on the top shelf, and I only use it when I make cherry walnut bread at Christmas time. I suppose I could use it at other times, too, but somehow, that doesn’t seem right. And then there are the 24 small vintage bowls or as my grandmother called them, sauce dishes. I bought them several years ago when we hosted an informal soup supper for Bruce’s colleagues. How likely is it that we will ever again need 24 bowls at the same time?

Over the years we have hosted many dinner parties and parties. I have spent days planning menus and cooking and cleaning and have loved the whole process, but it now seems unlikely that we will host large groups again or even have more than six people for dinner.

Our entertaining style has changed. What we most enjoy now is inviting two people over (We have four comfortable chairs in our living room.) for “4 o’clocks”–a drink and appetizers. Cheese, sausage, crackers. A dip, maybe some fruit. Something hot. Nibbles. Often a recipe I have wanted to try. Most important is the relaxed, but intimate atmosphere for fun and meaningful conversation. Oh, and much easier clean-up. Now with warmer weather we will enjoy our “4 ‘clocks” on the patio.

I realize the issue here is not my deep attachment to a material thing, but instead I sometimes struggle accepting who I am now–my age, my energy. At the same time I have become more and more clear about how I want to spend my time and use my gifts. Still, however, I cling to the earlier images of myself. Those stacks of dishes and a bowl for every purpose under heaven represent the ways I lived in earlier years when I had much more energy. The more the merrier when it came to entertaining.

I still have a good amount of energy and lots of interests and am blessed with many people with whom I enjoy spending time, but how much of a good thing I can hold in a day is more limited. Susan Moon in Alive Until You Are Dead, Notes on the Home Stretch, reflects on what she can do with “joyful effort” in her late 70’s. I love that.

An Ongoing Process

Our daughter and son-in-love have hosted the previous two Thanksgiving dinners, but this coming year they may be visiting our granddaughter, who will spend a semester in Greece. How grand is that! Our son and daughter-in-love usually come for the Christmas holidays, and we love all of us being together. But what does that mean for Thanksgiving? Well, my husband, open and generous person that he is, suggested we should host a friendsgiving for all those in our life who are alone. Only a few years ago I would have rejoiced with the idea, but this time I didn’t respond–at least not aloud. I admit I thought about all the work, all the energy that would take (and the bowls!). I know this is a decision that doesn’t need to be made now, and there are lots of ways to make an event like that happen, but it is another one of those opportunities to pay attention to who I am now.

If you have read my essay in Next Avenue (https://www.nextavenue.org/your-children-may-want-your-stuff/) you know how decluttering and managing the stuff of life is an ongoing process. I suspect that leaving some room on the kitchen shelves will open some space in my heart and mind to more fully live as I age.

Words of Wisdom

When I look around the crowded room and wonder why I am keeping the large desk when a smaller one would do just as well, something inside of me is beginning to change. When three sets of dishes are two sets too many, I have begun to need more than just things. When the house is too crowded and the car is too big and the perfect lawn too much of a bother, I have begun a whole new adventure in life…It is the shaping of the soul that occupies us now. Now, consciously or, more likely, not, we set out to find out for ourselves who we really are, what we know, what we care about, and how to be simply enough for ourselves in the world.

The Gift of Years, Growing Older Gracefully by Joan Chittister, p.91

My Intentions

  • I will pay attention to what I actually use–how and when I use what fills my cupboards. Just looking at the above picture, I see two bowls that can go.
  • I will add some of my kitchen treasures to the annual garage sale my husband has in June to sell the discarded furniture he has rescued, painted, and given new life. The proceeds from his sale go to a program for homeless youth.
  • I will simplify the stack of 24 sauce dishes –keep 6 of them. Or maybe 8.

An Invitation

What outer and inner shelves in your life need to be cleared? I would love to know.

Spiritual Practices for My Elder Years

/ nagneberg48 / 8 Comments

May 2, 2023

When I turned 70, I made a collage to honor that milestone birthday, but also to envision how I hoped to live as I aged.

I quickly sifted through the stash of pictures I kept in a pretty flowered box; pictures torn out of magazines, outdated calendars, and greeting cards too appealing to toss. I sorted them into two piles–the “maybe” pile and the “nope, not today” pile. No judgment. Just a quick “yes” or “no.” Cutting and pasting, I arranged selected images on the paper.

Only later did I sit back and ask, “What are the messages for me in this collage? How can this collage be sacred text for me?”

An image of the labyrinth anchored the center of one side. A candle with wispy smoke and a feather suggested the tentativeness of life. Chairs gathered around a fire and an aged hand that held the model of a house with a red door, just like our house, reminded me of my love of home tending. A big basket seemed to contain memories, as did the leaves gathered into a harvest handful. Of course, there were books stacked along the bottom of the paper. My terra firm.

Almost every collage I have made over the years has included at least one open gate, door, window, or path. This one includes two gates, an open door, and a window, plus a green path, all beckoning me onward, forward, it seemed. I remember, however, feeling some inner hesitation. What was across the threshold? What awaited me down that snow-lined path?

A prickly plant in the corner of the page and a pile of rocks taunted, “Beware. Obstacles ahead.”

Youthful innocence and naïveté were no longer my companions.

An older woman, smiling, pleasant looking, gazed at the labyrinth. I heard her whispering the words I included on the collage:

Choose simplicity.
Keep growing.
Learn something new.
Make room for what matters.
Breathe deeply.

She is my observer, my witness, my companion. My guide.

Being 75

Now I am 75, and I must admit, that age feels a bit daunting,

Since creating my 70th birthday collage, I have experienced losses–the death of my father and a dear friend, for example. I have sent so many sympathy cards and frequently re-order copies of Healing After Loss by Martha W. Hickman to give when someone in my life loses a loved one. And then there were the COVID years. Enough said! My health remains good, however, as does my husband’s, and we both continue to pursue our interests and to serve in ways that matter to us. True, I may not pack as much into a day as I once did, but my days remain full and rich.

I am grateful for these past five years.

I know I need to tend my days wisely, not only not to waste them, but to unfold into the gifts of this time. I’m not done yet, for I am both living and aging, but I respond now more with patience and curiosity, then with urgency and a desire for productivity.

I embrace a posture of contemplation.

A New Spiritual Practice

Recently, while browsing through my library of books about aging, I re-read a section titled “Pebbles of Life” in Aging as a Spiritual Practice, A Contemplative Guide to Growing Older and Wiser by Lewis Richmond. He shares a story about visiting the home of a fellow Zen priest who had a bowl full of pebbles next to a Buddha statue. Richmond’s friend said each pebble represented a week in the rest of his life, based on statistics about average life expectancy. Every Monday morning after his meditation he removes one of the pebbles. One week gone; who knows how many left to go.

“A mindfulness practice.”

The average life expectancy for a woman in the United States is 80. I am 75 so if I live five more years that equals 260 more weeks.

I counted out 260 little glass discs and placed them in a green glass jar. I was a bit dismayed at first that they didn’t fill the jar, and I wished I had started this practice when I was 70 or even younger. I no longer overflow with weeks ahead of me, I thought.

“A mindfulness practice.”

Of course, I have no idea how much longer I will live, but my mother died at 79, several pebbles shy of her 80th birthday. However, my father died just three years ago at age 96. He would have needed more pebbles in his jar.

I realize some of you readers may find this practice depressing or it might make you anxious, but my hope is that when I remove one of the glass discs every Monday morning that I will reflect on a week lived in gratitude and joy. I hope each glass disc will remind me to live in the present moment; to live with purpose and to open to ways I can become more of the person I was created to be.

I hope the words from my 70th birthday collage will continue to direct and honor my days.

Choose simplicity.
Keep growing.
Learn something new.
Make room for what matters.
Breathe deeply.

These elder years are found time. Sacred time.

An Invitation

What are your guiding words and spiritual practices during these elder years? I would love to know.

My Morning Meditation Shift

/ nagneberg48 / 9 Comments

April 25, 2023

In a recent post https://wordpress.com/post/livingonlifeslabyrinth.com/1883 I documented how I rearranged furniture on the first floor of our home. Just because I felt like making a change. The most major of the changes was to move a desk, which I always refer to as my Lady’s Writing Desk, from the entry way into the snug. I confess I have rarely used this desk with all of its cubbies since we moved back to St Paul. Instead, I have almost exclusively used my desk in the garret.

Well, in its new location in the snug I find myself drawn to using it once again–not so much for writing blog posts or working on the content for the writing group I lead or for other writing projects, but perhaps for the use this desk was first intended: correspondence. Thank you notes and birthday and sympathy cards. And letters. This little desk is now stocked with note paper and stationary and favorite pens and stamps.

I love having a window on the world of our block, watching the neighborhood kids racing up and down the sidewalk and the dog walkers and joggers. Bruce even checks in with me much more than when I was tucked away in the garret.

I don’t like how the desk looks from outside the house looking in, but oh well.

In the past year I have worked hard to end my writing work life by 4:00 in the afternoon. I turn off the laptop and the lamp light and retire to the snug to read for awhile before fixing dinner. That is a good thing for me, but at the same time I have noticed a decrease in writing letters and other correspondence; something I have always enjoyed. I like writing at a desk, but if I return to the garret desk, I often end up working on other projects.

Because this desk is in the snug, I feel called to return to a part of my life that has given me so much pleasure in the past.

Another Change

Most mornings I head straight up to the garret, even before I get dressed, for my morning meditation time. I sit in the comfortable Girlfriend Chair, to pray, to meditate, to write in my journal, and to read sacred texts. During COVID when I wasn’t meeting in person with spiritual direction clients, I moved the chair into the larger space in the garret where I meet with most of my clients.

But guess what? My designated meditation chair in the garret is close, very close to my desk, and meditation often becomes muddled with work. Hmmmm.

In warm weather what I often do is walk first thing in the morning and move my meditation time into our Paris garden. But, alas, we have had one day of warm weather so far this month. and while the snow has finally disappeared and walking is possible, sitting in Paris is not. And who knows when that is going to happen.

While writing letters at my Lady’s Writing Desk on Saturday, I had one of those ah-ha moments, Why not start my day in the snug, instead of going up to my garret office right away. Another comfortable chair. Plenty of space to keep my meditation materials, and writing in my journal at a desk is much easier. And there will not be the temptation to answer email or dive into the day’s To Do list.

And it is a change. A change of scene often brings a change of perspective. A change shows me I can be flexible. A change often inspires creativity and problem solving, too. And, if it doesn’t feel right, I can easily move back into the garret.

And when I do go up to the garret later in the morning I will be ready to focus on my work.

So far, so good, but it has only been a couple days. Stay tuned!

Making changes doesn’t mean you’re not content. It means you’re paying attention.

Myquillan Smith

An Invitation

What change have you made recently that has enhanced your life? I would love to know.