the writing life

Life in the Elder Hallway

/ nagneberg48 / 6 Comments

July 2, 2024

Come join me in “Paris.” On gorgeous summer days this is where you might find me–writing letters and emails, dipping into my basket of miscellaneous meditation books and saved articles, jotting notes to myself, adding to my To DO and TBR lists, and often taking a deep cleansing breath, as I open my journal for more reflection time.

These are rich, but quiet days. Days I need right now.

I am reading for the second time How To Walk into a Room, The Art of Knowing When to Stay and When to Walk Away by Emily P. Freeman. Freeman uses the metaphor of a “room,” to reflect on decision-making and changes in our lives. Freeman emphasizes the importance of naming the room we inhabit now, and I am more and more aware that my current room is a room of elderhood, of old age.

This room is spacious with several corners and areas designated for different aspects of my life: my work as a spiritual director, as the facilitator of a writing group, as writer of this blog, along with my identities including wife, mother, grandmother, friend, sister, and active church member. The room has a number of doors often open to welcome others and windows, reminding me to pay attention to the diverse movement around me. There are places to sit for solitary reflection and for attentive conversations.

In my 60’s I often said I hoped my elder years would be a time of expansiveness–a time to grow bigger–and I needed a BIG room. Now, however, in my 70’s I have revised that thought. Instead, this is a time of deepening. And I think my room encourages that intention to deepen, to grow deeper into who I was created to be. That fits right now, but at some point, perhaps my room will be smaller, and I won’t need as many designated areas. My room will modify into a room of contentment. Not passiveness, but a contemplative contentment.

My father seemed to live in that room in his last years–his 80’s into his 90’s. He spent much of his day in prayer and meditation without realizing that he was living as a contemplative in his last room. That was not a word familiar to him, but when I offered it to him, I could see that it resonated, and he accepted, even welcomed it.

This summer, however, I think I am in a hallway. Wandering beyond my room, but not far from it. I am just a bit antsy, for I have had more open time than what has been normal for me. Most of the time that feels good, for it means I have more time to read and more time to respond to whims, and more awareness of how I want to use my energy and the pacing needed along the way.

Freeman describes hallways in this way:

A hallway is a place of permission. It's a space where you're allowed, compelled even, to ask your questions, perhaps the kinds of questions that your rooms haven't allowed. It's a space to try on possibilities and to reimagine what could be.

The hallway may be the space between two rooms,...but it could also be a pause, a space where you enter just for a time, to clear your head, to take a beat, to weigh your options, to remember who you are...it's a waiting room, a bridge, and a deep breath. pp. 94-95.

In this hallway I have encountered some words to ponder.

  • Job died, an old man and full of days. (Job 42:16) Margaret Silf in her Daily Readings says, “To die an old man is one thing; but to have lived a life in which every day was really lived, that is quite another. ” p.201
  • From a laugh-out loud novel I am currently reading, Sandwich by Catherine Newman: “(‘Dad and I defrosted the chest freezer’ is an actual text I once sent in response to a question about our weekend and how it was going.)” p. 45
  • Sara B. Franklin describes Judith Jones in her new book The Editor, How Publishing Legend Judith Jones Shaped Culture in America in this way, “she wore her age like a fact.” (quoted in the NYT Book Review by Alexandra Jacobs, Sunday, June 30, 2024)
  • “I’m making space for the unknown future to fill up my life with yet to come surprises.” Elizabeth Gilbert

Each of these quotations feels true to me, to whom I am now and the person I am becoming and the person I was created to be. The trick is finding the rhythm, the space in my room, for each of these truths. And that’s where the hallway comes in –or in my case “Paris.”

You are welcome to join me there.

An Invitation

How would you describe the room you are inhabiting now? I would love to know.

Notes for Democracy:

What will you do today to save democracy? I plan to write more “get out the vote” postcards. Check out my recent post, “A Postcard Primer” https://wordpress.com/post/livingonlifeslabyrinth.com/3619 for links to participate in postcard campaigns. And I highly recommend reading today’s newsletters by Robert Hubbell and Heather Cox Richardson about the Supreme Court’s attack on democracy. https://heathercoxrichardson.substack.com https://roberthubbell.substack.com

Book Report: So Many Choices

/ nagneberg48 / 4 Comments

May, 16, 2024

EEEK! My bookshelf of current to be read books overfloweth. My challenge is to accept that as a good problem to have –and not a time-limited contest or a requirement for completion. However, the piles of seductive choices are hard to ignore, and I am greedy. Perhaps it is time to declare some cabin time for myself–stay here at home but pretend I have gone off grid for a few days with books as my only companion. I’ll let you know how that goes!

Here are the books that are currently enticing me.

Library Books

  • The House of Doors by Tan Tan Eng. Set in 1921 in Penang, Malaysia with the writer Somerset Maugham as one of the main characters.
  • Finding Margaret Fuller by Allison Partake. A historical novel featuring not only Fuller, who becomes a role model to Louisa May Alcott, but Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Edgar Allan Poe, Frederick Douglas, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and so many more.
  • Anita De Monte Laughs Last by Xochitl Gonzalez. I so enjoyed Olga Dies Dreaming by this author and am eager for her second novel, which is the story of an artist who died in 1985, but in the late 1990s is rediscovered by a young art student.
  • Like Happiness by Ursula Villarreal-Maura. Waiting for me at the library. The author says, “I wanted to write the story of a woman who sometimes wasn’t even the main character of her own life.”
  • An Unfinished Love Story, A Personal History of the 1960s by Doris Kearns Goodwin. I am almost done reading this excellent book that documents Goodwin and her husband Richard Goodwin sorting through his archives. He was a speech writer and more for John F. Kennedy, Lyndon Johnson, Eugene McCarthy, and Robert Kennedy. Fascinating.

Gifts

For Mother’s Day I received The Paris Novel by Ruth Reichl and The Hazelbourne Ladies Motorcycle and Flying Club by Helen Simonson. Both are so tempting I can hardly finish writing this sentence. In the Reichl book, Stella receives an unusual inheritance–a one-way plane ticket and a note saying, “Go to Paris.” Helen Simonson wrote Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand, which I remember loving. Did I miss her The Summer Before the War? I need to look up that book. This new novel focuses on the changes for women at the end of WWI in England–the freedoms women gained are being revoked as men return home.

I also received a bookstore gift card–that’s like gold in my hands, but I am restraining myself at the moment.

Also on the shelf are the books I received for my birthday, which I mentioned in an earlier post. but have yet to read: Vesper Flights by Helen MacDonald, Mastering the Art of French Murder by Colleen Cambridge, and Rogue Justice by Stacy Abrams. Perfect for cabin days!

Books for my Morning Meditation Time

  • Zero At the Bone, Fifty Entries Again Despair by Christian Wiman. I am not a person who often, if ever, feels despair, but I so respect Wiman’s insights and reflective voice, so I will read this, but maybe wait till winter.
  • How To Walk into a Room, The Art of Knowing When To Stay and When to Walk Away by Emily P. Freeman. Freeman is a podcaster and spiritual director who offers guidance during times of uncertainty. I have encountered this title in a variety of places—a sign!
  • Being Here, Prayers for Curiosity, Justice, and Love by Padraig O’ Team. Poet. Theologian. Host of Poetry Unbound. Obviously, I couldn’t resist.
  • Somehow, Thoughts on Love by Anne Lamott. I am almost done with Lamott’s latest book and am enjoying it more that her last couple books. Those felt repetitive to me–same books with different titles, but I love this one. I will write more about it in an upcoming post.

Books I Couldn’t Resist

  • Books #8 and #9 in the Lane Winslow Mystery series by Iona Whishaw, Lethal Lesson and Framed in Fire are waiting for me. How restrained I am that I have not ordered #10, To Track a Traitor and #11, Lightning Strikes the Silence.
  • A Little Free Library find: Four mysteries by Marcia Muller. Has anyone read these? The copyright for the first in the Sharon McCone Mystery Series is 1977, Edwin of the Iron Shoes. McCone is a private eye In San Francisco. Oh for a rainy day!
  • Still awaiting my attention are four other bookstore finds: Wild Atlantic Women, Walking Ireland’s West Coast by Grain Lyons. The Fall of Light by Niall Williams. I am slowly reading all of his books. The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune, which has often been recommended to me, but somehow I have not yet read. It is time. The Mystery Writer by Solari Gentill because I enjoyed her earlier book, The Woman in the Library. These are stand-alone mysteries, but alas, I recently discovered she has written a series, The Rowland Sinclair Series set in Australia in the 1930s and there are ten of them.

And guess what? Anne Bogel of “Modern Mrs Darcy” and her podcast “What Should I Read Next?” is releasing her summer reading recommendations list this week, which is sure to add to my TBR and my bookshelf. Sigh!

Alice Munro

I can’t close without paying homage to short story writer Alice Munro, who died this week. I remember at some point in my life immersing myself in her books of short stories. Such a fine writer.

A story is not like a road to follow…it’s more like a house. You go inside and stay there for awhile, wandering back and forth and settling where you like and discovering how the room and corridors relate to each other, how the world outside is altered by being viewed from those windows. Alice Munro, 1931-2024

Happy reading everyone!

An Invitation

What’s waiting on your shelf? I would love to know.

Guiding Words

/ nagneberg48 / 15 Comments

April 30, 2024

NOTE: I am going to take a brief break and won’t publish posts on Tuesday, May 7 or Thursday, May 9. I will post my April Book Report Summary, however, on Thursday, May 2.

As always, the weekly writing group I facilitate, In Your Own Words, Contemplative Writing as Spiritual Practice, includes time for silent meditation. “Close your eyes lightly, not tightly. Take a deep cleansing breath. Breathe gently in and out, finding your own rhythm.” After six or seven minutes of sitting in silence with one another, I read the guiding words for the day. For example:

The word “orientation,” like “Orient,” comes from the Latin, orient, which refers to the “sunrise,” the “east.” If we know the point where the sun rises, we can determine all other points of the compass and find the direction we want to take. Some words can help us in a similar way. Words full of light, they beam, as it were, like the floodlights of a lighthouse and build a bridge over troubled water. Such luminous words can also become keywords that unlock new insights for us. We can learn “to think along language,” the way we walk along a path through meadows enjoying flower by flower, ever new discoveries as we go. You Are Here, Keywords for Life Explorers by David Steindl-Rast, p. 3

I then read the writing prompts for the day, which recently included the following:

“Begin by listing words on the accompanying table that have had meaning for you or seem to be occurring or appearing in your life right now….List the words (or brief phrases) without judgment.”

I end by saying, “The time is yours,” and we write for 20 minutes.

My Father’s Guiding Words

I filled in the first three blanks on the sheet divided into small sections easily. “Beloved,” my 2023 word of the year. My current words of the year, “enfold/unfold.” And a question I often ask myself and my spiritual direction clients, “What is possible now?” I was surprised, however, when on the next line I wrote, “Your day will come.”

I began to write.

My father said those four words often. “Your day will come.”

I confess I sometimes resented those words–and that he said them with such a knowing smile on his face. I heard judgment and privilege. I felt admonishment–that I wasn’t old enough or hadn’t paid my dues or didn’t deserve something. I can’t recall specific instances when his response was “Your day will come,” but I remember my impatience and my irritation. Why should I remain patient when I wanted something, to do something, to be something, but apparently MY DAY had not yet come.

But I also wondered if the day for __________ would actually ever come or would life pass me by? Would the day truly come when I would know a lasting and fulfilling love? Would the day come when I would know my purpose in life? And would the day come when I would know how to fulfill that purpose? How would I actually know my day had come?

Dad didn’t offer any answers, instead he repeated his pat answer without becoming engaged. His wisdom rolled over me, only lightly touching my skin. I vowed not to use that phrase with my own kids, if I was lucky enough to have any. I don’t think I’ve broken that intention, but you’ll have to ask them.

Now, of course, at this third chapter stage of my life, I realize my day has come–as so many days have gone, have left. So many days have been lived. Some more fully than others. Some days have passed me by. Some days have drifted away unnoticed by me.

And now this day has come.

My day here and now.

My day of becoming more of the person I was created to be.

Often when Dad was in his 80’s and even into his 90’s, he announced he was ready to die, “just not today.” Eventually, his day came. Our creator God announced to him, “Your day is here. The day of your death, your full transformation is here.”

I don’t know when that day will come for me, but now when I think of those words, “Your day will come,” I hear an invitation to use these days wisely, to live these days fully. Doing that, I prepare for the day of my own death, the day my day comes.

Thanks be to God.

An Invitation

What words or phrases have special meaning for you right now? I would love to know.

NOTE:

The writing group I facilitate meets Thursday mornings from 10:30 to noon at Gloria Dei Lutheran Church, St Paul, MN. There is no charge and all are welcome. If you have interest in participating in the group, let me know. If you are not able to participate in person, but would like to receive the guiding words and prompts, send me your email, and I will add you to the list.

Book Report: Savor AND Devour

/ nagneberg48 / 12 Comments

October 19, 2023

In my Thursday, October 12, 2023 post, I set myself a goal to slow down when I read. To savor, rather than devour.

Now, after reading Signal Fires by Dani Shapiro, I’ve decided I can savor and devour at the same time.

I loved Shapiro’s memoirs, Hourglass: Time, Memory, Marriage (2017) and Inheritance: A Memoir of Genealogy, Paternity, and Love (2019) in part because she says a lot in a short number of pages. No 500 page tome for her. In fact, Signal Fires is only 219 pages long.

The length of a book is not enough to recommend it, however. No, it is what is written on those pages. How well do we, the readers, get to know the characters? Is the plot engaging? What about the setting and the structure? Now I am sounding like a writing teacher, and guess what, Shapiro teaches and writes about writing, too.

Back to the novel. Family ties. Family secrets. Two families and their lives over a span of time. In a less capable writer, the stories in this book would overflow into a much longer tale, but Shapiro reveals just enough, never wasting a word, and does that as she moves back and forth in time.

Some basics: Ben, a physician, and Mimi have two children, Theo and Sarah. The Shenkmans have one son, Waldo, a genius who is obsessed with the constellations in the sky, much to the irritation of his father who wants Waldo to be a “normal” kid. Two events influence the life of these families. One is a tragic car accident when Theo and Sarah are teens, and the other is the emergency delivery of Waldo by Ben in the Shenkman’s kitchen. I don’t want to say more, but here are two favorite quotes. The first is a reference to moving into a new house.

She doesn’t believe in ghosts, but ghosts are all around them…She has to believe that they’re all here. That they’ve made an indelible mark. That all their joys and sorrows, their triumphs and mistakes and hopes and despair are still as alive as they ever were. That no one ever completely leaves.

p. 37

…Ben Wilf has come to believe that we live in loops rather than one straight line, that the air itself is made not only of molecules but of memory; that these loops form an invisible pattern; that our lives intersect for fractions of seconds that are years, centuries, millennia; that nothing ever vanishes.

p. 126

I admit I devoured this book, but sitting this past weekend in the coziness of our house all decked for fall, I also savored it.

A Word About Shapiro’s Writing Book

I am currently working on an essay about a recent discovery about myself as a writer. Actually, I am struggling with this essay. Perhaps I need to step away and re-read Still Writing, The Perils and Pleasures of a Creative Life. (2013) or at least what I have underlined.

About meditation and writing:

When I sit down to meditate, I feel much the same way I do when I sit down to write: resistant, fidgety, anxious, eager, cranky, despairing, hopeful, my mind jammed so full of ideas, my heart so full of feelings that it seems impossible to contain them. And yet…if I do just sit there without checking the clock, without answering the ringing phone, without jumping up to make a note of an all-important task, then slowly the random thoughts pinging around my mind begin to settle. If I allow myself, I begin to see more clearly what’s going on. Like a snow globe, that flurry of white floats down.

p. 11

It never gets easier. It shouldn’t get easier. Word after word, sentence after sentence, we build our writing lives. We hope not to repeat ourselves. We hope to evolve as interpreters and witnesses of the world around us. We feel our way through darkness, pause, consider, breathe in, breathe out, begin again. And again, and again.

p. 110

Yup, I need to both savor and devour this book.

One Last Quote

“She reads books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live.” Annie Dillard

An Invitation

Any books you have savored or devoured lately? I would love to know.

The Necessity of Prayer

/ nagneberg48 / 14 Comments

October 17, 2023

Last week was busy, but in ways that enrich and fulfill.

It was a week of sacred encounters: time with a spiritual directee who is blossoming into a different stage in her life, a lively and engaging conversation about community during a 3rd Chapter event at church, a session on re-examining our own stories with the contemplative writing group I facilitate, and a reinforcing time of connection with friends who live at a distance.

It was a week of spaciousness: A full day to write, to prepare sessions I lead, and other times to read.

It was a week of the ordinary: Kitchen time, making applesauce and a big pot of soup for more than one meal. Paying bills and running errands. Returning library books and picking up others waiting for me. Dusting and vacuuming and doing a slight bit of rearranging along the way.

It was a week of paying attention: The golden light of autumn filtered through the falling leaves. The temperatures required a sweater or a shawl and socks. The neighborhood erupted with pumpkins on steps and black cats and dragons and witches on front yards.

It was a week of feeling blessed.

It was also a week of wondering how I dared to move through my days so effortlessly. How dare you, I asked myself, have such an easy life when there is so much strife and fear and injustice and uncertainty in this world?

That’s why it also needed to be a week of praying.

As I often do when world events are overwhelming, I turned to two books of prayers, Illuminata, A Return to Prayer by Marianne Williamson and Life Prayers From Around the World, 365 Prayers, Blessings, and Affirmations to Celebrate the Human Journey, edited by Elizabeth Roberts and Elias Amidon. Both books open automatically to prayers I have read so often, too often.

from Illuminata

Dear God,
There is so much danger in the world today.
There is so much insanity, so much darkness and fear...
Dear God,
Please send a miracle.
Into every country and every home, into every mind and every heart, may the power of Your spirit now trigger the light, activate our holiness remind us of the truth within. 
May a great love now encompass us, a deep peace give us solace.
For Lord we live in fearful times, and we long for a new world....
May the world be reborn.
Help us forgive and leave the past behind us, the future to be directed by You...
Amen.

from Life Prayers, a prayer from The Terra Collective

May our eyes remain open even in the face of tragedy.
May we not become disheartened. ...
May we discover the gift of the fire burning
     in the inner chamber of our being--
     burning green and bright enough
     to transform any poison.
May we offer the power of our sorrow to the service
     of something greater than ourselves.
May our guilt not rise up to form
     yet another defensive wall.
May the suffering purify and not paralyze us.
May we endure; may sorrow bond us and not separate us.
May we realize the greatness of our sorrow
     and not run from its touch or its flame.
May clarity be our ally and wisdom our support....
May we be forgiven for what we have forgotten
     and blessed with the remembrance
     of who we really are.

This week is busy, too. Appointments with directees and one with my own spiritual director. Time with both writing groups–the one I lead and the one in which I am a participant, receiving and offering support. A haircut and also flu and booster shots are on the schedule. And there will be some time to read and to do the ordinary stuff of life.

And time to pray.

An Invitation

What prayers are on your lips? I would love to know.

A Sabbath Afternoon at My Desk

/ nagneberg48 / 4 Comments

September 19, 2023

Isn’t “sabbath” and “an afternoon at my desk” a contradiction of terms? Am I justifying work done on Sunday by calling it Sabbath time?

Good questions.

God questions.

Questions to explore and ponder.

Sabbath Morning

Sunday morning means church for us. We attend the 8:15 service, and I set the alarm for 6:30. Sunday is the only morning of the week I do that, but I don’t want to rush. I want to enter the sanctuary awake and open.

I want my whole being ready to pay attention, to honor the day and those who have chosen to also be present. My sense of belonging accompanies my desire to welcome.

I bring my concerns and my hopes, my love, my blessings, but also my need to shed my many judgments. Along with my plea for forgiveness for what I have done and what I have left undone, I remind myself of the ways I am called to forgive.

I come knowing I need to empty and make room, but also to fill more fully with a deeper understanding of the person I am created to be.

That is a tall order, but not impossible.

Sabbath time is full of possibilities.

This Sunday was no exception. How good it was to greet and be greeted. How good it was to see a stream of children march up the aisle for the children’s time. How good it was to hear a lovely girl read the lessons. Clearly she had practiced, but at the same time it felt like she was encountering the words for the first time, giving us a gift of freshness and insight.

We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves. If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.

Romans 14: 7-8

How good it was to hear Pastor Lois’s excellent sermon based on Peter’s question about how many times should we forgive. “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times,” said Jesus.

Stop counting, Nancy, I think to myself.

How good it was to receive the bread and the wine. To share the peace. To sing. To pray. To be together. Sabbath time.

After the service, I hosted the first adult forum of the year. The topic was “Building Community: Holding Each Other Sacredly,” based on a Lakota word, “kiciuzapi.” Because it was the first forum of the new program year, I wanted to set the stage for this part of Sabbath time. A time when we practice community. A time when we become more present to one another and to God’s presence.

What followed was a chance to share stories with one another, for as Wendell Berry said, “Community exists when people know each other’s stories.” Storyteller Gretchen Sage-Martinson gently guided us into the process of telling one another stories.

Laughter.

Tears.

Deep listening.

Warmth and openness.

Sincere questions.

Presence.

Sabbath time.

Sabbath Afternoon

While eating lunch on the patio, I read the NYT Book Review. The day was cool, but not too cool, and I wondered how many days I could sit there without adding an extra later –a sweater or a shawl. I thought about how to spend the rest of the day. I am reading a good mystery (more on that in my Thursday Book Report post) and spending the afternoon in its company would be delightful and restful. Or I could make some zucchini bread using a chunk of the ginormous zucchini a neighbor gave us. I certainly could get a jump on the coming week’s work, but the Sabbath feeling lingered.

What did this day offer? What beckoned me? What whispered Sabbath blessings?

Without a clear answer I walked up the stairs to the garret and sat at my desk. I had a vague notion of cleaning my email’s inbox. Yes, that would be a good thing, but a Sabbath thing?

Without thinking too much about it, I decided to move my laptop from my workspace to my desk in the snug. Just for the afternoon, a Sabbath afternoon of responding to friends’ emails in a chatty, rested, spacious, and loving way. I relaxed into reading blogs I subscribe to, online publications that interest me, and other articles and essays others had sent me because they knew I would appreciate them. I had told myself I would read them when I had the time. Ah, Sabbath time.

And as I wrote, sometimes selecting a card and handwriting a note of love and concern to someone on the prayer list, I paused now and then to watch the sidewalk traffic. The Catholic church up the street held its annual county fair all weekend and families walked by on their way to rides and games and food. The fall day was perfect for the fun. Sabbath fun.

I noted how the trees are entering the new season, a reminder to me of my own movement into this season of my life. Sabbath season.

I moved steadily, mindfully through the overflowing inbox. Now and then I made a note to myself–an idea for a future writing prompt or a resource for my own writing. None of this felt like work. Instead I was in a Sabbath rhythm.

I like what Dan B. Allender says in his book, Sabbath, “Sabbath provides a weekly marker for the contours of life. It is the moment to receive all time and to allow the past and future to congeal, to thicken into ripe, holy fermentation.” pp. 56-57.

That’s just how the day’s unfolding felt.

Sabbath Evening

We met our daughter and grandson for casual supper at our favorite neighborhood bar. Unfortunately, our son-in-love was not feeling well, so didn’t join us. The four of us, however, had a good catch-up. I left feeling like I had experienced a Sabbath Bonus.

Once home I reunited with the mystery I mentioned and read contentedly until bedtime.

A good Sabbath day. A very good Sabbath, indeed.

An Invitation

What does Sabbath mean to you? I would love to know.

Note #1

An essay I wrote, “My View From Here,” has just been published in a lovely online publication, Sage-ing, The Journal of Creative Aging. You can read my essay –and, in fact, the the entire publication at this link.

http://www.sageing.ca Let me know what you think.

NOTE #2

I will take a bit of a break from posting: Tuesday, September 26 through Tuesday, October 3. I will return with a post on Thursday, October 5.

No Post Today

/ nagneberg48 / 7 Comments

August 7, 2023

I apologize for the problems reading my post on Tuesday. I still have no idea what the problem was, but if you were one of my subscribers who was asked to subscribe again and then still couldn’t access the post, well, I have NO IDEA what was going on. I am so sorry.

And I don’t know if the problem persists, so I am taking a brief time-out to try and figure out and solve the problem.

When technology works it is such a good thing and when it doesn’t, well…you’ve each experienced tech issues at one time or another.

I don’t know if any of you subscribers will even be able to read this today.

So….all for now. Stay tuned. And thanks for reading my posts and for your many kind words.

What Are You Doing These Days? And Other Difficult Questions

/ nagneberg48 / 12 Comments

August 29, 2023

“What are you doing these days?”

“How’s your summer been?”

“Doing anything exciting? Traveling anywhere?”

At recent gatherings my husband and I have been asked these or similar questions. Twice I answered,
“We’re just boring old people.” That may be true, but we are not without interests and activities, and it is rare that I feel bored.

Why then is it so hard to answer the question? It is easier for me to share Bruce’s gardening at home and at church and his painting and then selling discarded furniture with proceeds going to Lutheran Social Services programs for homeless youth. And it is easier to share the activities of our grands–Maren’s semester in Greece this fall after working at Northern Lights Family Camp all summer and Peter’s recent hiking trip in the Rockies and now starting his sophomore year of high school and playing football.

Why is it so hard for me to share what I am doing? After all, I love what I am privileged to do.

Most of my days feel rich and full, so why am I uncomfortable sharing the ways I experience this time of my life?

I don’t have an easy answer, but I wonder if at least part of the answer is that what I do, I do most days. I read. I pray. I hometend. I pay bills. I go to Target. I watch yet another series on BritBox. I answer emails and go for walks. I spend time with friends and family and roam backroads with my husband. I go to church.

The stuff of life. The normal stuff of life. The movement from day to day.

I also meet with my spiritual direction clients and plan sessions for the weekly contemplative writing group at church and organize occasional events for Third Chapter, Spirituality As We Age, also at church. I write two posts every week for this blog and am always working on an essay to submit to various publications.

These activities are also the stuff of my life. The normal stuff of my life. The movement from day to day.

In that ongoing movement I try to pay attention and notice the movement of God.

That’s what I do with my days.

Perhaps I need to practice answering the question. I need to have an answer I can pull out of my back pocket–an answer that is simple and accurate, but in some way expresses the constellation of my life.

“Thanks for asking. Life is rich and full. How privileged I feel being able to do what matters to me. Yesterday, for example, I ….”

I love the familiar Annie Dillard quote, “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing.”

Exciting days? Not so much. Big travel plans. Not really, except for our weekend rambles and our road trip to see our Cleveland kids in the fall. No, we are not going to Greece to visit Maren. This is her time, her adventure, and we will rejoice in what she shares.

Instead, we are living fully and deeply and joyfully in the stuff of each day.

An Invitation

How do you answer the “what are you doing?” questions? I would love to know.

Note:

One of the women in my personal writing group has just had an important article about the perils of wetlands published. I encourage you to read it. https://minnesotareformer.com/2023/08/25/u-s-supreme-court-has-put-precious-wetlands-in-peril/

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.

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.