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It’s interesting to notice the thoughts going through my mind in the middle of the night as I sit on a kitchen chair in front of the toilet, the porcelain god as we used to call it, waiting for the next vomitous mass to purge itself from my stomach.

The primary theme of these particular thoughts focused on my sporadic, even neglectful, willingness to diligently care for my body. This experience of sudden illness and pain brought on by ingesting the wrong foods or combining foods that should never have been mixed made it clear that I am not doing a very good job. There is definitely room for improvement.

For most of my life I’ve never been too concerned about avoiding certain foods. I could eat anything and usually in large quantities, knowing my metabolism would quickly convert the feasts to energy. Then, about thirteen years ago I suddenly developed a gluten allergy. My body’s initial reaction to this discovery was very similar to my recent puking incident. The doctor’s follow-up advice was simple:  “Stop eating gluten.” For the most part, I have, although I’ve been able to tolerate a tortilla or a couple of cookies now and then without any reaction.

Now, I’m not so sure.

The other issue that’s made itself known recently is a weakness in my hands (thumbs and wrists). Likely arthritis with a possibility of carpal tunnel. It’s especially noticeable when I try to pick up dishes from the upper cabinets. Each hand alone doesn’t have the strength to collect more than one dish at a time. I do much better when I use both hands to lift a small stack of plates from the shelf or carry them to the table. Same thing with pots and pans, especially if there’s food in them. I need to use both hands to carry the cookware from the stove to the sink or place it on the breadboard.

This became such a big concern for me, after dropping a dish or two, that I boxed up the decades-old, heavy dishes – my favorite kitchen plates, bowls, and saucers – and replaced them with a lighter (but fashionable) plastic variety. I’ve always considered plastic dishware only for camping and picnics; I never intended to make them my daily set. However, now I can easily lift these new dishes without instant pain.

I’m learning to accommodate myself, to practice diligent self-care. Too bad it’s taken various levels of pain to bring my needs into focus. Yes, it would be better for me if I didn’t wait quite so long to make these changes.

It’s the avoidance of suffering (a Buddhism thing) that keeps me going back to the gym for much-needed walking and biking on a regular basis. The avoidance of suffering is what helps me go to bed on a regular schedule to get the sleep I need. The avoidance of suffering is what prompts me to plan, shop for, and prepare healthy meals on a mostly consistent schedule each week. The avoidance of suffering is what supports decisions to budget finances and expenditures so there’s money left over at the end of each month. And, the avoidance of suffering is what encourages us to seek medical or health guidance when we’re not feeling our best or vaccines are needed, especially in these advancing years.

I’d like to think I’m getting better at accommodating myself BEFORE I suffer. To respect myself. To practice diligent self-care. To keep myself healthy and strong. To be aware of what I need and then take care of that need before it becomes a bigger issue. I’m truly grateful our bodies have the capacity to correct and heal without waiting for permission or even our awareness that something has to be done.

I really don’t want to spend any more nights sitting in the bathroom, waiting to see what comes up.

# # #

Today I experienced someone (maybe two someone’s) attempting to defraud me.  All we wanted to do was sell some really nice furniture before we moved. Now, I don’t really care if we sell it or not before we go. Here’s how it went…

I posted the photos on Facebook Marketplace. The first person who responded (Hilda) was slow to reply to my confirmation that the furniture was still available, asking if “she” was still interested. Meanwhile, a second “person” expressed interest, too. Once Hilda confirmed she wanted the pieces, she wanted to pay me via the Zelle app so I could take the posting down.

I only recently attached the Zelle app to one of my bank accounts, knowing it was a money application people used for such transactions. However, I’d never used it to know how it really operated. It seemed Hilda had all the answers to my confusion. But as I slowly made my way through what I thought was the correct process, her messages became more intense and pushy.

RED FLAGS went up everywhere in my body! I finally told her I was slow at this and to be patient. I received an email from Zelle that suggested a hold was placed on the money she paid because I had the wrong account type and it wasn’t compatible with her business account. In order to correct this, Hilda needed to pay an additional $500 to me, which I would then “reimburse” before the other $1,500 could clear my bank account.

She expressed concern about me being trustworthy. She asked if I was really going to pay back the extra $500 that was needed to get my account in compliance with the system. I assured her I was just new to Zelle. She recommended that I call the phone number in the email and even knew where on the email that phone number was located. Also, she wouldn’t call me because she was “at work” and couldn’t talk. Then I looked at the Zelle email address and saw it was a bogus Gmail account. More RED FLAGS!

I decided to call my local bank directly instead. I explained to the customer service person (small town branches allowed me to reach her quite quickly) what was happening. She checked my account. There was NO “pending” transaction behind the scenes.

She then explained how Zelle worked for her when she and her brother sent money back and forth – none of which had occurred during Hilda’s invisible transaction. No text from the bank or Zelle. No Zelle-business-email notifications. No phone number or email that could identify Hilda, either. She strongly suggested that I NOT go through with the transaction or find another way to obtain the money. (I wanted cash anyway; this was just too nerve-wracking.)

I went back to Messenger and sent Hilda a short note that this wasn’t going to work… it appeared to be fraud… and that she had a few minutes to agree to cash or I was moving on to the next buyer. Crickets. No response. The next buyer made similar gestures to want to pay up-front and then pick up the items later. I didn’t give him that option. Cash only, I told him. Again, crickets and no follow-up.

I’m angry for a couple of reasons. One, that people like this are scamming others. I’m sure they’re successful often enough to continue creating personas and honing their techniques to risk such larceny. Second, I’m a bit mad at myself that I went that far down the rabbit hole with Hilda and didn’t see the bogus email details earlier to stop the whole thing. I felt really stupid for a couple of hours. BUT… at least I made the phone call to the bank. It allowed me to stop much sooner with the second apparently bogus buyer, whoever it is. Experience does help. And to make sure I won’t forget, they both tried this on the same day!

I’m also putting additional warnings on my accounts, just to be certain enough blockades are in place.

I AM grateful that I hit the “PAUSE” button once my inner voice and nervous system started screaming and jumping throughout my body. I listened. I stopped. I sought proper advice from the right and trusted source. And I’d much rather have to load up this furniture (one more time) than be suckered into giving someone hundreds of dollars because I wanted to sell it rather than move it. The furniture will go eventually… just not today.

After weeks of sharing ideas and evaluating how we want to evolve in this retirement home of ours, we took a step forward with one of the many options and went back to the idea of “simplify.”

First, we acknowledged that it’s been six months since my husband officially retired from his business. We’ve settled into a bit of a routine around the house. We evaluated our pattern of living and what changes we can make for greater comfort. And while we’re keen to keep addressing repairs and improvements, a little at a time, we are in no big hurry to take on too much nor do we want to spend tons of money in the process. We fix that, clean this, improve whatever, and feel like we’re going forward on our home maintenance list. It works for us.

In addition, we’ve increased our levels of physical exercise (walking, Pickleball, Corn Hole) and have purchased passes at the college recreation center up the street. This has resulted in meeting new folks, developing an exercise routine, and feeling more energetic. I joined a virtual walking challenge community and have been racking up miles more than I ever thought I would. I’ve changed what I eat and am noticing the difference in how my body reacts. Room for improvement? Of course, all ways and always!

A big accomplishment over the past several months was learning that we can live on much less income than we once did. While prices in many categories continue to rise and fall (depending on where you live), we’ve learned to adapt within our budget. Also, as mature adults, we just don’t need that much of anything. I won’t bore you with all the ways we’ve done it (in this writing), but the cost and money awareness we now have, coupled with the above changes, means we’re spending much less overall… including what we spend on home improve­ments. HGTV used to be my favorite go-to channel; now it’s YouTube DIY-er’s from around the globe.

So ALL of these areas of life came together this week as we worked out a solution about how to use the attached garage space.

We have really missed our covered patio from our previous home and wanted something like that here… so we can sit “outside” but protected from the winter months of rain. We want to watch the rain – not get rained on. We also wanted to protect our fairly new patio chairs and cushions from the winter weather, as well as the mold that would surely follow if left outside. We finally came up with a solution we could both agree on (the hardest part). We created a “chill” space in the garage… for both of us.

This idea was somewhat fashioned from descriptions provided by friends who converted their garages into summer living rooms… an area to chat with neighbors or hold group BBQ’s. A place to lounge close to the elements yet still have the comfort of home. An extra “room” created without any extra expense.

So yesterday, we took action! A large area rug was unrolled and placed in the center of the garage floor. The motorcycle was repositioned to one side. The patio chairs and footrests, with a small table between, were placed facing the outdoors. A quilt is close by for those chilly, rainy afternoons. There’s even enough space deeper inside to place a twin-sized bed for naps (or guests). The garage is insulated, paneled, electrified, and already feels quite cozy. Now for a good cleaning.

I’m looking forward to more custom touches, using what we have first or repurposing found treasures. We continue to come up with ideas to make it more useful and inviting. Battery-powered lamps. Curtains. Ceiling lampshades for the bare bulbs. There are several more items that will be moved out, sold, or given away so that we have additional room for extra chairs. For the neighbors and new friends and visiting family members… and us.

A place to chat as the deer stroll by. To read and watch the rain. To just chill.

# # #

A few weeks ago I came to a startling awareness that has since impacted another major decision in my daily life.

I was circling the outdoor walking track at the local college with a new friend and walking partner. The day’s discussion was mostly about our attempts to maintain balance in life – physical, emotional, time commitments, and relationships – as well as being respectful and inclusive of other people’s ideas and beliefs.

The conversation centered around my interest in Interfaith communities. I’ve long been open to the world’s religions and delight in recognizing the commonalities most share with one another. In recent months, I’ve been part of a religious community that welcomes people from all faiths, yet professes no set creed or holy text. According to the history of this religion, its creed was once based on the Bible, but religions evolve and this one has mostly moved away from such teachings.

Instead, the philosophy of this community is based on principles (values, virtues) that guide its messages and how the members interact with one another. Members are free to pursue their religion of choice independently, and then they come together each week for a mostly secular message, one that usually does not mention God or Spirit. Sadly, I have not heard members share openly about what belief systems they follow in their lives. Thus, the Interfaith aspect, an opportunity to learn, is also missing.

When I first started attending this “church,” I thought Sunday services with worldly lessons would be enough to satisfy my desire for a spiritual community. I was wrong. They are a lovely bunch of folks, practicing their common principles as they’ve done for decades… yet I want more than this from a spiritual community.

I had already reached the point where I greatly missed the New Thought music and messages and uplifting meditations I’d been surrounded by for almost 30 years. Listening to them privately at home brought some solace, but after two years of mostly pandemic isolation, I was ready to engage with a religious community in-person. However, without the Interfaith discussions I hoped for as a substitute for New Thought, I felt like I was opening a door, but no one was willing to come in. I couldn’t force what didn’t exist.

My walking partner listened quietly until I stopped talking. Then she shared a wisdom that a friend of hers had provided to her years before. “Don’t be so open-minded that your brain falls out,” she said.

Don’t be so open-minded that your brain falls out.

She went on to explain that we can become so open, so willing to understand and learn other points of view, so eager to be part of something that almost fits, so able to compromise… that we give away too much of ourselves – our beliefs, our time, our energy. We dilute our very beliefs, ideals, and principles for living. And while I had been speaking about religion, this idea applies just as much to our thoughts about politics, parenting, communication in relationships, work ethics, etc. And she was right! Boundaries are important for both sides of the equation.

For the past few years, my focus has been directed toward Interfaith teachings and exploration. My mind has been open to other ways of doing religion. So much so, that I’ve neglected regular study of my own faith’s texts. Nor have I consistently dedicated time to deepen the core beliefs I hold dear, beliefs that include certain principles, also found in other religions. I thought that, if I attended this “open” church community and became involved in supporting its lay-led leadership, perhaps the spiritual support they professed to offer for each one’s journey would be enough. It wasn’t. Not for me. I simply didn’t fit. It was time to make a change.

The first thing I had to do with this newfound wisdom was to decide what my beliefs were. What’s important to me now in the religious realm? What values and principles are key to me? What kind of spiritual community would support that kind of thinking? Is there such a group nearby?

I’m no longer interested in starting a church from scratch, but, if necessary, would consider initiating a study group. Fortunately, there is a New Thought church in the community… a slightly different version than what I’ve been teaching or ministering… yet one with a history of New Thought founders similar to that of my own religion’s… and close enough in its writings and teachings to feel spiritually fed and connected.

I decided to attend a special mid-week prayer service and met the senior minister. These folks were openly talking about Spirit, God, Divine Mind. The music! The meditation! The familiar readings! Even the building – a real church – with an expansive New Thought library! I felt welcomed and comfortable. There was an inner Joy, a knowing Light, in the midst of each gathering. We spoke the same language! This, and a few other “test” visits and conversations with the minister, convinced my husband and me that a significant change had to be made regarding our choice of church.

I provided ample notice to the board president of the “open” church so that my volunteer tasks could be covered by others in the future. I hope she and I remain friends. And as difficult a decision as it was to reach, to leave their small group, my heart is now happy. I’m looking forward to once again being part of a New Thought community. It’s where I belong.

It is an important lesson in setting boundaries, of not giving away so much of myself – time, energy, spiritual desires… too much open-mindedness… too much compromise – that my soul becomes heavy and sad. Once again I realize the value and sense of peace in establishing, in having, in honoring spiritual beliefs that bring me comfort, while also exploring different viewpoints. I can be open-minded and still keep my brain (and heart) where it belongs.

# # #

What do you call the act or process of working? Whether it’s income-driven or as a volunteer, is your work a necessity to live? To express? Is it an addiction? Or is it to avoid doing other things expected of you?

My husband and I now call the avoidance tactic “hide work.” We’ll sit in our offices in front of our computers for hours sometimes, just to avoid doing house repairs or yard work or unpacking from our move. I’m also well aware that excessively working has been one of my chief addictions for years. Balance is an ongoing challenge.

Being busy, working, started out in childhood as a way to stay in the good graces of my mother. If we were busy, productive, or doing chores, we were less likely to be tasked with things we didn’t want to be doing or suffer the punishment of the day. We might even hear an occasional compliment. There was no such thing as boredom in our parents’ home. We could play “after the work was done.” But it never was… done.

I brought that incessant productivity mind into adulthood and years of employment. Employers loved it! I volunteered for overtime when I could. I worked through lunches. I honed my administrative skills, took classes, and learned to do tasks more quickly (and accurately). There was a time I was commended for doing the work of two or three people. Unfortunately, that recognition did not often translate into a higher salary, so I would move on to another place that was more appreciative of my efforts… until it wasn’t.

Making the transition from that productive, working mindset to a more relaxed and less demanding pace in retirement has been difficult. I find or create projects that require weeks of list-making, sorting, processing, creating, and that, finally, end up with a pleasing result… before coming up with another idea and starting again. It’s what I’ve always done, up until now.

As I’m about to finish a two-year volunteer project (with others thrown in between), I look over the list of ongoing ideas on my whiteboard and think about what I want to do next. The answer is, “Nothing.” Shock! At least not for a while.

The other day I decided to “take a day off” from my busyness and just read a book. It’s been on my desk for over a year. I promised myself I would stay out of my office and off my computer for at least the one day. It was extremely difficult to keep that commitment, but I did it. It was also a wake-up call… again.

While my mind thrives through structured hours and project deadlines, and I will never give them up entirely, I would now prefer such schedules be the exception rather than the daily expectation. I’m “retired” for goodness sake! I’ve traded my time with the world and a myriad of organizations throughout my life, for income and a sense of serving society. And though I continue to serve as a volunteer for a couple of organizations, I have stronger boundaries in place. This allows my life to be filled with creativity and friends and love and seeing sites and being with family… all the things society promised when a person retires. More of that, please.

As I “rewire” my brain and daily address this workaholism, I already sense a shift in how I’m being in the world. I’ve done much personal growth, healing, and self-development through the last twenty years, and yet, I know there is more to do in these final decades of life. I’d really like to learn how to play and not feel guilty about it. My husband has this down; he’s a willing teacher, too.

Perhaps my efforts are only a shift in perception or I’m simply calling it by a different name. However, it’s enough of a shift inside to create a new set of feelings. Calm. Joy. Abundance. Peace. Awe. Love. Oh, to make those a priority for one’s whole life; truly that would be success. As long as I still have time, I’ll work on that.