contentment

Accentuating The Positive

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A friend recently congratulated me for getting back to “normal”, and “improving” after the years with The Calamities. The quoted words angered me. Though it wasn’t her fault, I launched into a text rant so interesting, honest, and cruel it scared me. She was only trying to be positive but…

The words are the problem. The message, not the messenger, so I apologized and hoped The Rant did not affect her own senior mental state. For me, it was cathartic to finally be able to verbalize one of the many cloudy issues plaguing Old Age: we age physically faster than we age mentally, at least most of us do. There are anecdotes of early onset cognitive impairment, but for most of us getting old is a lot like long, birth labor or “failure to progress”. A part of our existence, the mind, is not at the stage of life the body is, so…

Many of us are still the quarterback of our high school football team well into midlife. Or for a female symbol: Carrie Bradshaw.* My personal manly physical prowess was consistently overestimated** well into my 50s. Minor honest efforts were made to retain that prowess, but age adds a sliding, disconnect between what we do and what we think we have done and the gap separating the two gets larger each season.

Suddenly, and for a reason we tell ourselves we don’t understand, we look in a mirror one day and see the body of someone else.

It is shocking, but our minds still allow for some wiggle room: even when we buy all new pants, we still think we’ve got “It”, and will lose the weight.

Back to The Rant and my friend. Her words incited The Brain to find a way to explain the real “progress” aging means to the rest of my body including both Inner and Outer Voices: once we pass a certain age, we NEVER “improve” and the “normal” changes daily, and not in a good way. Every element of my existence is thankful for the instruction.

We can still have moments of physical, mental, and spiritual clarity leading to contentment and possible satisfaction with life, but we will never be what we were, ever again. It is what it is and we are what we are at each and every age. And the age we accept that realization is different for each of us, with some never accepting it at all.

When we are young, each mile of the race is faster, even as we go up the hill, then we hit the top and start down that long, knee-pounding decline to the last mile, and finally, The End. “Improving”? “Normal”?

We can work with normal. In fact, it has a measurable component in sports. If you run those miles*** you know how long it takes from the first step to the last. If you’ve kept a record, you could use Ai to plot a graph or chart. It’s amazing how clear life is when you see your run times charted and that physical hill appears on the graph. Up, up up, then down, down, down. Life.

So where is the positive? First, at least you were able to do things, great things, normal things, and things you loved. Never forget that bit. Second, the disconnect between what we feel we are and what we really are is finally understood late in life, especially by those who pay attention. The Wisdom we used to hear about when we were young. And even as you run your race slower and steadier, there may be times you can let loose, and get close to your best time for at least a few yards…

But improvement and normal have to be flexible and on your own terms. Carpe linguam and change the narrative.

*Younger women and men will need to Ai the name. Or not care to know.

**Not a good word for it since there was no conscious thought of my “estimation”: I simply knew I was still in great physical shape, inconvenient truths be damned. Ora at least ignored.

***Or swim those laps. Or bike those roads. Or complete those marathons…et.al…

Happiness or Contentment?

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A recent conversation at our early morning Turning Stone Resort and Casino Fitness Center Meeting sparked an interesting idea: would you rather be happy or content?*

You can’t answer if you don’t know the difference between the two. You can google or Ai both words on your own time, but it’s worth noting “contentment’s” etymology: “From the Middle English ‘contentement’, satisfaction of a claim or debt.” Did you think being content had anything to do with financial stuff?

Jury’s out, but let’s look at examples.

I was the first to the meeting and as I sat on the couch in front of the fireplace in the beautiful entrance hall, it occurred to me I was content. I was pain-free, did not lose any money in the morning’s gambling, was waiting for friends, and had no current life-threatening medical issues. The fireplace makes navel contemplation easy and contentment was the result of a contemplation free of issues, free of doubt, free of discomfort. And it was warm. And friends were coming to join me. It was a time for a clear mind to get out of the way and just bask in the glow from both the fire and the “satisfaction of a claim or debt”.

Minutes earlier on the gambling floor, I had won big on a favorite machine. ** As the “one-armed bandit” ramped up its big-payout bells and whistles and sirens, I was happy. Out of this world happy. How much would I win? Could I take a trip to the Bahamas?

Eh. Not the Bahamas but as noted earlier, the win was an integral component of the ensuing contentment. It wasn’t The Big Win, but it wasn’t a loss. It was enough to not spoil the morning but not enough to change a life.

I’m a big fan of contentment but wouldn’t kick happiness out of bed for eating crackers, if you’ll pardon the immature, misogynistic comment. It appears contentment is also “trainable”. You can teach it to sit and stay, for example.*** Contentment is like fruit on a tree, it’s there anytime you want it if know how to get it. It might even be shareable(sic) with a close friend or someone in need.

Happiness seems to involve luck. Serendipity. Being in the right place at the right time and—again—being able to recognize it ****. And as my machine blared my success earlier this morning, a look around the gambling floor revealed faces not exactly happy with my happiness. They may even have been harboring bad thoughts, or hoping my final amount would not be enough to make me too happy.

One thing noted as this essay unfolded: contentment is readily available if we notice it and cultivate it. We can get it anytime. It’s like a small, ocean-rounded rock you put in your pocket.

Happines? Not so much, it is mercurial, it comes and goes on the whims and impulses of The Gods.

Can they exist together? No. Happiness can help cause contentment, and contentment—probably—can help inspire or attract happiness, but only contentment is a life-changer: once you know to find it, the world is your oyster…most of the time.

And if you can’t find contentment now, be patient. Wait. It might be around the next corner…lurking…waiting for you to say hi.

*Spoiler alert: don’t read this footnote first cause happiness is sometimes defined as a feeling of contentment, and this essay is attempting to reduce confusion, not add to it.

**As a 50-cent per play bettor, winning $5.50 is a “big win”. In Trump math it’s about 1,000%.

***Still working on “fetch” and “roll over”.

****Ever wonder how lucky you are to NOT be in a place at the Wrong time? Ever drive by an accident and Thank God you were not in that exact spot 5 minutes earlier?

Ai, Ai, Oh No…

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Apologies to those who know the story and song of Old Macdonald’s Farm. He had all sorts of animals, but we never know if he is happy about it*. How could he be happy with all those animals to feed? He must have been a billionaire. Ai says there is no real ending to the Old McDonald’s Farm song, it can go on until the singer gets bored or tired or runs out of animals.

Life kind of feels like the song, now. Except for a new animal every verse substitute a new trouble, war, or unhappy event. As an essayist, it is harder and harder to come here and write something happy, something peppy, something uplifting. It is so easy to write WTF essays, “why is this happening essays”, and warning essays. Probably shouldn’t use the word easy, because writing about what is wrong in the world (in my opinion), is not easy, it’s annoying, and seems pointless. It’s not even cathartic anymore. There is a sense the turbulence of this world is not necessary, and that my golden years should be full of—at least—apathy, and not despair, unhappiness, anger, resentment.

I tried to sign up for DirectTv, yesterday but their website wouldn’t approve any of the 5 credit cards I tried. “Oops! There is a problem. Please try later.” The Ai chat bot took all my information, guided me to the website, and walked me though every step to get me to where I already was and then Ai asked: “And what does your screen say?” Oops. I asked for an agent and after a 5-minute wait one came into the chat and typed: “So how can I help you?” I typed “Oops! There is a problem. Please try later.” And the rep started by typing the same questions the Ai bot did. Hey! This is progress? This is better?

See how easy it is to complain?

 This essay will be an effort to not complain. I vow to find more positive things to write about, more good news to share, more ideas to inform or uplift, not brow beat or spotlight anger. Yes, most of the usual space has been used up already with the normal bleating, but there is still room for a few paragraphs of light.

The Rich have taken over the United States and will soon take over the world. And they don’t give a crap about anyone Not Rich. How can they be stopped?

Sorry. Old habit. As a retired person my days are my own to shape and one of my favorite times of those days is 2pm to 3pm. I recline on my favorite couch, put my tablet on my chest, and listen to NPR. The hour begins with 15 minutes of news and then the VoxPop show cuts in and a gentleman named Ray Graf opens his mouth. This only happens Mondays through Fridays, but VoxPop is enough to make a day better, and have that “better” last for at least the hours until VoxPop comes back on the airwaves. Ray has a way of yakking that is not only entertaining, but informative, and…bright. Happy. Content. Unhurried. Almost therapeutic. No more will be said except he is not available in all NPR areas. Wait, maybe VoxPop is, and can be heard over the wonderfully cluttered Internet of Ideas and Chaos. The station broadcasting Ray Graf’s VoxPop is WAMC, out of Albany NY. It’s unclear if anyone outside New York State can get his show, but try, and get back to me, will you? Google or Ai “VoxPop with Ray Graf” and see what happens in your area. I’ve not said much about the actual show, hoping the mystery will pique your curiosity and get to you look for it, so…do it. Now. It might get you off the snide** of current life and back into the gentle but challenging currents of real life. Real normal life, not Rich and Powerful Life.

Sorry. Old habits die hard.

*Or what tense of verb to use. Is Old McDonald alive? Dead? Mythical? The song does say he “had” a farm. Did it get repossessed? Fall into ruin? Or does he and the farm come back to life every time we sing about him? And where is this “farm”? And why the hell should we care?

**The Internet of Ideas and Chaos is often what we make it. Google snide, for example, and enjoy.

Tuesday Morning Wha’??

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On Tuesday morning, October 8, 2024, God (Of any denomination) saw fit to install a rainbow outside the balcony of my apartment. It was awesome. Spectacular. Divine. It was full size and the entire arc of its beautiful design could be traced with my finger. I took lots of pics and videos but mainly stood there, jaw dropped, while the camera clicked away. The rainbow was so bright…and it had a partner. The second rainbow ran parallel to the first for most of the arc of the first, but didn’t have enough oomph to make it all the way. For moment I felt bad for the second, but then remembered There’s Two rainbows outside my window!

Never, ever have I witnessed two rainbows at once. Not in over 72 years filled with rainstorms, morning afters, and weather catastrophes. Never. even after Our Tornado this summer.

The colorful entities filled me with a sense of wonder lasting hours, and never fully dissipated until after the hours of rain the rainbows had presaged. There was a feeling of satisfaction, too, that someone, somewhere, felt I deserved not one, but two morning rainbows. My life on earth is being monitored and appreciated. The Boss had noticed my work!

A reason the awe and wonder faded was as the morning went along, I talked with others and they, too, had seen two rainbows…just before the rains. I wasn’t the only one….

Who cares about the others? The rainbows were there for me. The ‘Bows became a sign, an omen, to me. The rainbows were a delight, a blessing, a message to remember what’s important in life, and not stoop to cheating, lying, and taking advantage of others in our modern, self-centered world. And to remember to be happy with enough, and not long for too much more than what we need.

Then, another thing happened: contentment washed over me and settled in my pockets, my hair, and all the horizontal surface areas of my body. Even up my freshly plucked nose and recently shaved ears. I felt it burrow into my beard. It was going to be around for awhile. I wasn’t going to shower, ever.

As with the rest of you, there is a lot going on in our lives. Whatever it is, whatever bothers us, it’s nice to know a rainbow (or two) can make it all go away…for a day or two.

Contentment…Awe…Happiness…Grace…

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A friend sent a link to a discussion on Awe, (google Dr. Dacher Keltner for more).

It reminded me of my essay about talking to the tree: it was so old, so big, so majestic…it was awe inspiring.

It’s hard to remember all that’s written, but somewhere in past essays I’ve explained my life has moments of grace, which is a form of awe and close relative to contentment and it’s older brother, happiness. A family of deep, rich, feelings one is truly blessed to experience.

But…doesn’t everyone have these experiences? More particularly, doesn’t every OLD person have these experiences? They seem to be coming with greater frequency, as if compensation for The Calamities. Is that happening to everyone, else?

It’s doubtful. Most of my older conversational partners are trapped in mindsets longing for the good old times, a way out of the times they are in, or a way to numb themselves to what they know is to come.

Sidebar: a religious article this morning led me to ponder an old question: if you are truly righteous and believe in an afterlife, why not get there as soon as possible? Why wait? And it’s not just Christianity.

Related to the Fraternity Of Good Feelings, is The Sorority of Sad Feelings. (Not a sexist insult, simply an artistic attempt at humor. Sue me.) As noted last week, a very sad day visited but left in time to not ruin the next. It was an odd bum-rush of a feeling I used to kind of enjoy when younger. If you belong to the school of Context and Perspective, sadness helps describe and enhance happiness/contentment. How do we recognize one if the other never exists?

Another sidebar? It may be the exercise I’m doing here, right, now, is part of the reason for lower levels of sadness and higher levels of undefinable Good Feelings.

One of the things Dr. Keltner mentions in his podcast is the gratefulness he feels for how his parents raised him. For my entire life I have felt the opposite. Farm life was hard. My father was not perfect. My mother was. Maybe it’s time to stop blaming them for a life I seem to enjoy so much, now. (Oh, God, Not Nature vs. Nuture, again.)

Look. Seriously, look. For some reason sunsets and sunrises have to be photographed. I have to listen to hours of Jackson Browne. Trees talk to me. I love The Chair. And Buffalo Chicken Pizza. And…

It’s easier to find reason to be content, to be awed, than to sit and absorb the reasons to angry, sad, resentful.

Just look….

Why Now?

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Mysticism: a belief or experience involving a direct connection with the divine or ultimate reality, and can also refer to an altered state of consciousness.

No one really understands the brain. We’re close, but not close enough to mapping the 86 billion neurons making up an average brain. Add to the complexity, each neuron can have hundreds of thousands of synapses, or connections to other neurons. 86 billion times 100,000 equals…

So when someone says they have a mystical experience, what does it mean? Is it in fact a connection with the “ultimate reality” (safe way to include all deities), or is it a misfire, a malfunction of something in the synapses and neurons?

As a young man, I experienced episodes of “dazed happenings” lasting from 30-60 seconds. They were times when my mind went wandering and I let go, resulting in feelings of connection and “great peace” with the world. They faded with maturation but were never forgotten. I labeled them “Grace Periods.”

With the onset of The Calamities in 2023, and after months of drug treatments and radiation, the Grace Periods tried to make a comeback. Maybe. In the months following treatment, the “mind wandering” would start, but the first few times it continued down a darker path and felt like approaching death, so I fought the wandering and found my way back to “normal”. Subsequent UNC research revealed a name and possible cause: Orthostatic Imbalance from too much potassium. Limiting potassium and quick, body position changes ended the “Dark” wanderings

But as you can probably tell by my last post, the wandering has returned. And if the wandering is unchecked, the result is trees talk to me and there is beauty everywhere. God’s beauty, or the “Ultimate Reality’s” beauty. Its a funny thing (strange funny) to feel. “Things” disappear. Things like worry, anxiety, pain, the unfathomable, bottomless questions about “being”. All gone. Nothing but contentment. Not happiness, just a feeling everything will not just be okay, but it will be what it is meant to be. The wandering is still not understood. But, all is well.

As a senior citizen, my first understanding of why these things happen is the close relationship to death. Or closer, relationship of age. A few months back I wrote about a midnight revelation (See: “Whoa…really?” from May 10, 2024.) which may be related to the Grace Periods.

A rational, scientific mind could interpret what I’ve described as the misfiring of complicated bionic equipment and connections in an aging brain.

A mystical person, however, would revel in the evidence of a Grand Design from the Ultimate Reality, who has something fantastic in mind for one of His/Her/Its creations.

Maybe someday we’ll know but right now, both explanations sound right to me. Contentment is a wonderful thing, even if it’s not understood.