And so, life changes again…

We have decided to leave Colorado and move to Oregon’s southern coast, specifically the Coos Bay-North Bend peninsula. Coos Bay, Oregon – Wikipedia

stock image – photographer unknown

After two weeks of vigorous packing and decluttering and cleaning, our lovely Grand Junction house goes on the market this weekend. We anticipate and envision a quick sale. Followed by a mountain of boxes prepped and loaded into containers of some sort. Followed by a two-day drive to the Pacific Coast. Followed by a search for our “new” home. Followed by adventures.

While everything seems to be moving quickly right now, this decision came slowly. My husband is a Colorado native; I have lived in this state for most of 40 years. But the seed of this idea to move closer to the ocean was planted in 1997 when we traveled to Sydney, New South Wales, Australia to live. Mike’s job provided us a three-year adventure near the sea. It was life-changing! And the waves never left our hearts. We felt that same pull on our visits to Coos Bay in recent years, especially during our time there last month.

If not now, when? And why Oregon?

Stock images Rocky Mountain Scenery – photographer unknown

The past two years – most of which have been lived in semi-isolation due to the global pandemic – included the deaths of three dear friends. Others close to us have left the area to explore their passions or new horizons. We miss them all. They also inspire us. Life is too short.

Creation’s still small voice for “something more” has gotten louder. We can’t ignore it anymore. We have entered another phase of life. The autumn days of aging. When colors are bursting forth with vibrant energy. New ideas are waiting to be birthed. We must heed the call. No more waiting!

Yes, we have family in Colorado… and Utah… and Alaska… and many other states, including Oregon. That, too, is a big part of the draw for where we’re headed. We have family there, including grandchildren anticipating our arrival and with whom we can share a few years before they, too, are grown and on their own.

Stock images of Oregon coast – photographer unknown

The ocean can’t be moved to Colorado. We look forward to cooler temperatures, a more humid climate, and ocean breezes. We experienced similar weather during Sydney’s winters. We survived the rain and cold and learned to adapt. To rug up. We’ll do the same in Oregon.

While we appreciate the variety of all the retail therapy a larger city provides, we choose not to live in such densely populated areas. Thus, the attraction to a small coastal town. Plus, we’ve made a concerted effort through the last three moves to downsize our possessions to right-size our lives. We’re almost there. Whatever extras we want will be at the end of a leisurely drive inland or can be shipped to our doorstep. Everything we need can be found locally.

Given the pandemic restrictions and cautions… and the technology of social media… you’ll hardly notice we’ve left the state. Our photographs will be different. We look forward to more outside activities, especially near the beaches. We will continue to evolve… to explore… and to love those far and near.

Dry Run. Night Fun: 7 Lessons Learned

Earlier this week we slept in our converted camping van for the first time… with our two small dogs… in the driveway. Given it was the first time, we decided to stay close to home should anything major go awry. That decision turned out to be a good idea!

We purchased the 2004, semi-converted Chevy van only six weeks ago. I’ve spent four of those weeks tearing out and redesigning the interior to accommodate our foray into part-time #vanlife during our semi-retirement years. The intent is to visit our children and grandchildren. They are now scattered about, living all over the western United States. Because their homes are filled with children, there are no longer any guest rooms for us. A wonderful trade-off!

We had stayed at hotels, but didn’t like the associated costs nor having to board our dogs when we traveled. The van is to become our “hotel room on wheels” so we can visit our family (guesting in their driveways), bring our dogs, stay as suited for everyone’s schedule, and not spend a fortune in the process.

Mosquito screen envelope-style (double layer) with magnets on outside

In our younger days, my husband and I did remote tent camping, car camping, and even trailer camping. However, due to where we live now, an older, reliable, converted camper van seems our best option. It will also be my daily around-town vehicle. The biggest requirement was that it had to fit in the garage. And it does. Just.

After a week of removing what was already in the van, then discussing desirable camping features with my husband, I spent three weeks re-designing the internal layout. I insisted on a “no-build build” idea so everything can be changed if we need the vehicle for something other than camping.

Displaying a few of the lighting options – inside

I did most of the installation, which included sewing, shopping, crafting, arranging, installing, and set-up. I selected everything from a sofa bed to fairy lights to a “Luggable Loo” toilet. My husband provided his input, the money, and muscle, too. We packed everything we might need (and more) for a vacation into the 70 square feet. Still, we decided a test was wise to be sure we didn’t forget anything.

While we had packed the van during the day with snacks, clothes, water, etc., our evening test began well after sunset. That was our first mistake. We did consider that, if something was missing – even though I’d made multiple lists – we could just dash inside the house and collect it.

Lesson 1:  Set up camp in the daylight.

Dog and crate area

After loading up the dogs in their crates and providing them with water, our next task was to connect the long extension cord to an outlet in the garage. Although I had been the one to initially store the cord in the van, my husband was the one to get it out and unwind it. Unfortunately, confusion ensued about how it had been wound to begin with. It was difficult to unwind in the dark driveway. And why were those small bungee cords wrapped around it? We turned on the garage lights to illuminate the cord mess into a workable solution.

Lesson 2: Set up camp in the daylight.

Next, the extension cord was snaked from the garage through an open window into the van to power a surge-suppressor, multi-outlet unit for the computer and monitor (for livestreaming movies). That was the moment we discovered the outlet unit had not yet been stowed. Another trip to the house.

Lesson 3: Test systems completely and keep parts together. Set up camp in the daylight.

Once the electrical cord and outlet unit was turned on, we powered up our computer-related devices. Two small portable fans were already buzzing – one with its own battery and directed at our bed; the other USB-style fan, plugged into an external, fully-charged battery power supply, which gave the dogs a cooling breeze. Both fans – combined with the mosquito-netted, open front door windows – provided adequate air flow throughout the van. It also helped that the temperature was only in the mid-70’s.

Wait! No Wi-Fi? We had assumed we’d be able to connect to our home’s internet account from the driveway. It had worked before when we were parked in the garage, but now, less than 20 feet from our previous test spot, and we had no connection. We tried several times to connect on various devices. No luck. At least we had remembered to bring books and magazines for our nighttime ritual.

Lesson 4: Have internet HotSpot capability – OR – bring reading materials or external DVD/CD drives for movies. Set up camp in the daylight.

Although we had meant to keep the house off-limits for this experiment, that rule had already been broken several times. I ended up walking the dogs through the house (on their leashes) to the backyard for their final pee of the evening. I then marched them back to the van, locking doors and shutting off lights behind me. While I was walking the dogs, my husband shut down the devices and put them away. When the garage door came down, the reality of sleeping in our van in the driveway became really REAL.

Dogs locked in their crates? Check. Van doors locked? Yes. Phones and keys nearby? Of course. Water bottles handy? Indeed. Toilet set-up for late-night routines? Absolutely!

I had earlier given my husband a tour of where all the touch-lights were located and how to use them. The privacy curtain for the toilet area was also in place. All other window coverings insulated us from the outside world.

Lesson 5: Take your time; be methodical. Set up camp in the daylight.

I crawled across the sofa bed to my cozy, corner spot and collapsed into the pillows. As my husband read his paperback crime novel with the aid of a small solar-powered light propped on his chest, my eyes explored the van interior. My mind reviewed all the plans we had discussed and the hot days of working in the garage to achieve this moment. I’m happy with the aesthetic results.

What was disappointing, however, was the sofa bed. So hard! Neither of us slept well after the first hour. We’ll soon add some kind of topper to soften it. The bed is narrow for two people, but we can deal with that. We were both warm without coverings most of the night. Only in the pre-dawn hours did we feel the need for the quilt.

Also during the night, I became keenly aware of the slant of our driveway. While it’s not much of an incline, my body seemed to slide down the mattress toward the street. I repeatedly pulled myself up toward the pillows. Apparently this wasn’t an issue for my snoring husband.

Lesson 6:  Find a level place to park. Set up camp in the daylight.

The 6:10 a.m. alarm was louder in the van than it had ever been in the bedroom. I threw on clothes and made another run to the backyard with the dogs. As I tried to get the dogs back into the van, rabid barking ensued. They were surprised by a neighbor out for her morning walk… across the street. Their  loud vocal response made clear their feelings about such an intrusion in their corner of the neighborhood.

The kitchen area after morning coffee

Thanks to the handy electrical cord and outlet unit, we heated the water in the electric kettle and enjoyed pour-over coffee. The ice in the small cooler chest chilled the coffee creamers loaded up the night before. Strong coffee never tasted so good. While there was enough hot water to make oatmeal, we decided on having breakfast later after we “got home.”

Our overnight test proved to be a success. We survived! My husband retracted the electrical cord from the window. We both shared in storing it in a new way. I hopped into the driver’s seat to move the van back into its place in the garage. Once the garage door was secure, we released the hounds, cleaned up the van, and fixed a welcome hot breakfast.

Lesson 7:  Be flexible. Plan for what you can. Enjoy the adventure. And set up camp in the daylight.

Morning wake-up after first night in van

Our future excursions will be more than 20 feet from our back door. We’re excited, but nervous, to “get on the road.” We’ve never had a vacation without a timeframe or urgency to return. It’ll be interesting to see how Life shows up in our journeys.

Trash or Treasure?

Our community provides a special type of trash pick-up a couple times each year. Folks put their unwanted or broken items on the curb at a set time period and the municipality arranges for trucks to come around and collect the discarded items. We experienced a similar service when we lived in Sydney, Australia many years ago, although the setting-out period seemed a bit longer than it is here and now.

What is interesting of both experiences is that during the setting-out period and right up until the collection happens, a trove of “collectors” drive through neighborhoods looking for salvageable items. Because I, too, was once a “dumpster diver,” I no longer arrange garage sales or consignments for my unwanted items. Instead, if something has lost its use or appeal in my world, I wait for these community collections and simply set those things out on the curb. I know they will find use in someone else’s life.

For example, the photo shows what’s left of the treasures we placed on the curb just a couple of days ago. These remnants are truly trash. What you don’t see is the 24-year-old foldable beach umbrella, the treadle sewing machine in an oak cabinet, new but unused light fixtures, a charcoal barbeque grill and accessories, and tail lights from a car of the previous owner of our house (left behind when they moved four years ago).

I was a bit sad to release the treadle sewing machine. It served as a reminder of the way I learned to sew, taught by a Polish neighbor lady when I was nine years old. This particular machine had been given by a family member as payment of a debt owed to me, but it languished in the garage for a couple of years while I waited for the cigarette smoke to dissipate from the oak cabinet. That never really happened, and we need the space for other items. Thus, it was time to truly let it go.

I’m finding it easier and easier to let go of long-held memorabilia that I once found so dear. Certain ones, family heirlooms and artwork, are finding their way to my children now. The rest? If they still hold a space in my heart, they stay… like religious statues on the bookshelf or family photographs on the walls.

Trash or treasure? Now I keep only what holds meaning for me. And when it doesn’t? It’ll be time to let that go as well.

Time and the Space Between

I often have a love-hate relationship with time. Never enough. Can’t save it. Runs out. My “to do” lists have shortened over the years, but I struggle to accomplish what I put on paper. This time challenge affects another life objective – balance. How do I accomplish all I set out before me AND experience self-care?

Lists help me to feel accomplished in my daily tasks and to stay organized. Paper lists get checked off and then thrown away. Spreadsheets can be tedious to update. Calendar notations get an “X” when a task is done. My computer calendar (Google) displays across platforms to any device; notifications advise me of appointments. I finally figured out a way to combine the best of all of them.

My areas of Life focus fall into five major categories: Spirituality, Home, Writing/Working, Creativity/Art, and Relationships. I also have time designated for the “Space Between” major categories and end of day reading. A nod toward balance. Each category is color-coded for easy identification on my phone or computer. The colors and a set time serve as a welcome structure that allows me to dedicate time each day to things that matter to me AND achieve mental balance. Most categories are scheduled for every day of the week, while having flexibility within each allotted timeframe to prioritize tasks.

Right now, I’m in the “Space Between” (a gray area). We had an early dinner, so my writing was interrupted and delayed for a few moments. Next comes “Relationships” (lilac) when we’ll watch a binge series or a livestream college volleyball game my granddaughter plays in tonight. Sunday’s holiday lunch with family is in red.

This new system gives me permission to pace myself through all my many interests. Today I’ll do what I can in the time I have. Tomorrow, I’ll do a bit more. The schedule helps me stay focused and progress. Each day I’ll fully utilize the time given to me and do so with balance and serenity. It’s working already!

Garden Experiment: Day 5 – Coming Alive!

On the second day I snapped a picture of the dirt in the egg carton. A sunny day meant that the seeds could be warm outside. Zoey, one of our dogs, kept watch for birds. None appeared. After a couple of hours, I brought the mini garden back inside.

Today is Day 5 (4/8/2020). Last night there was an explosion of growth! Look at the radishes! I’m excited mostly to know that the seeds – as old as the envelope said they were – are still able to produce a plant. How exciting is this already!?

These little seedlings got to go outside today for the morning and early afternoon. Perfect spring weather. The sun really dried out the soil. Once back inside I re-watered the radishes and their sleeping buddies for the night. It’ll be interesting to see how much they grow overnight. I’m now looking forward to the morning and more garden growth. Stay tuned.

Gardening Experiment 2020

DAY 1:   I planted seeds.

Since we made eggs this morning and used up what was left in the paper egg carton, I decided to use the carton to start a vegetable garden. First, I dug through my garage supplies and containers to make sure I had seeds. Success! They’re pretty old. 2013 seeds. I’m starting with the seed packs that are already open. Green beans, yellow corn, radishes.

I crumbled up the four eggshells from breakfast and broke them into bits, the remainder of the white albumen and all. I put a bit of this chunky mess into each of the twelve egg slots of the carton as fertilizer. I used wax paper to line the bottom of the open top cover (didn’t have any freezer paper) and put eggshell bits on that side, too.

Then I added the garden soil from a bag I had in the garage. I love my garage supplies. It’s always a pleasant surprise to see what I’ve managed to save or recycle for “someday” projects. Dirt is a garage supply staple in my opinion. I even have some potting soil for cactus plants… another project for later.

I heaped enough garden soil to fill the carton egg holes to over-flowing, knowing the soil would likely shrink when I watered the seeds at the end.

I really over-seeded this tiny start-up garden. Instead of two or three seeds per hole, they got six to eight. If they actually sprout – and it’ll be interesting to find out because the seeds are so old – then I can transplant the seedlings later into my many empty pots in the garage and use more of the big bag of garden soil that I still have sitting there. I’m not willing to put this baby garden outside yet, except during the warm sunny days. Fortunately, the large tray I have helps me carry the egg carton back and forth from the outside to inside. It also catches any water overflow.

The seeds all received a generous bath of water and the soil shrunk down like I thought it would. I left the empty seed packets near each section to identify them later. Since it’s a bit chilly outside today, I’ll keep them inside on the counter near a window for a couple of days (see photo).

It feels good to be planting something. I haven’t had a garden for several years, as evident by the date on the seed packets. And since this “quarantine” makes it possible to stay home for an extended period, I might actually be able to attend to these plants regularly and watch them grow. All I need to do is make sure the seeds get sunshine, stay warm, and be somewhat moist until they sprout.

Come along for the journey. Prayers and good vibes welcome for these baby plants.

Our Responsibilities with Death

Today my husband and I had one of those “difficult” conversations. In the midst of the coronavirus pandemic affecting the globe and hearing about thousands of people dying, I insisted that we review our Wills and other final documents. While there is some comfort in knowing we made certain arrangements a dozen years and five house moves ago, clearly it’s time for an update.

The subject of our eventual death need not be one we avoid nor approach with overwhelming emotion. The fact is we are all going to die at some point. It’s just a matter of when and how. We may not have control over either of those decisions, but we can make known to family, friends, or an attorney our wishes about certain things being done upon our exit from this life. It is the responsibility of each individual to determine his/her final wishes in the last chapter of one’s life story.

Eckhart Tolle said, “Life has no opposite. The opposite of death is birth. Life is eternal.”

Let me make something clear: I love my life. I LOVE my life! It is better now than it’s ever been. While certainly there are some experiences I would never have consciously chosen for myself, I’m grateful every day for the journey that brought me to this place and time.

And I take care of myself in a way that supports my body for a long experience on this planet. I still have much to do and be before I make my transition from this plane to whatever is beyond this earthly existence. Any fear of death I carried into adulthood continues to be replaced by decades of studies in world religions, death traditions, rituals, beliefs, and spiritual growth. And, yes, I do believe the soul or essence of who we are continues in another realm or dimension. It’s a mystery and a future adventure.

Meanwhile, as we practice social distancing, personal retreats, or self-quarantines, and follow the guidelines to keep one another healthy and safe, I believe it is also important to be practical, responsible, for any unforeseen (but possible) situations… death being one of them. As the number of deaths from this virus increase each day, it can be difficult to consider we could become part of those statistics. However, currently we’re part of the living and that provides us with an opportunity to be responsible adults.

Ernest Holmes, founder of Religious Science, wrote in the Science of Mind textbook in the chapter on Immortality some of my favorite lines of this philosophy: “And so we prepare not to die, but to live. The thought of death should slip from our consciousness altogether; and when this great event of the soul takes place, it should be beautiful, sublime . . . a glorious experience. As the eagle, freed from its cage, soars to its native heights, so the soul, freed from the home of heavy flesh, will rise and return unto its Father’s house, naked and unafraid.”

For me, preparing “not to die, but to live…” means that I take care of those tasks, documents, directions, expenses, etc. that are mine to do. This includes my funeral arrangements, cremation, designation or distribution of personal items, and so forth. No one can guess what I have in mind unless I write it down and offer some directions. I believe my wishes will be honored by those who I’ve entrusted with such requests. And, the thing is, once everything I need to clarify and list and label is recorded and shared appropriately, I can focus on Life and all it still offers.

A few years before my father died, he shared with me certain things he wanted to have done after he was gone. His list was not a long one. Unfortunately, he didn’t write down what he had shared with me. Then another family member took control of his life and finances in those final months. While more than two years have passed since he made his transition, I intend to honor him and his verbal requests as best I can, and in more ways than he originally suggested.

The 2017 experience with my father’s death and his unfulfilled final requests inspired me to create a “Funeral Planning Workbook.” It has since been published (on Amazon) and used by a growing audience of folks, like me, who are willing to address their eventual death and consider what final arrangements are desired. In so doing, we are being accountable to ourselves by taking care of tasks NOW so that our families won’t need to be burdened with them later.

Whether you choose to purchase and utilize such a planning tool or start handwriting your list on a notepad, I encourage you… in these days of isolation, reflection, self-care, and with a focus on your health and longevity… give some thought and direction to what you can do to ease the burdens of those you will leave behind. You might discover ways to simplify life even further.

As we’ve seen on the news or in social media, this virus doesn’t care about your age, gender, social or economic status, race, profession, or where you live. So if you’re reading this, you still have time to complete a very important life task… and let someone (or two) know where to find your final documents and instructions. Research online. Download templates to get started. Consult with legal professionals. File whatever forms are necessary by mail or email. And once it’s done, having considered the worst that could happen, you will have a better appreciation for this awesome experience called Life and can joyfully look forward to the best it has in store for you.

# # #

Moving… finale…

UPDATE (6/10/19):  The home inspection did not go as planned and we canceled the contract on this property. We have decided to pursue alternative ideas toward our financial goal of being mortgage-free and to stay in this home for as long as we can.

        Today we started packing. Filling boxes. We’re moving again. This will be our fifth move in five years. Insane, I know. Especially considering how “mature” in years we are. We pray it’s the last… again.

        I jokingly, at times, claim to have gypsy blood. Today I have no doubt. Why else would this seem like a normal thing to do? What’s the bottom line? Why would we be willing to do this again in our mid-to-late 60’s?

        We – my husband (Mike) and I – want to be mortgage-free. No debts, especially the house loan. The sale of our current home will allow us to achieve the long-held goal for us to NOT “have to” work. It greatly reduces the self-imposed mental and financial stress. We can do other things with our time and money… travel, develop hobbies, build a spiritual community, visit grandkids… the possibilities are unlimited!

        The other key reason is this. We’ve had many discussions about what we would do with this large, beautiful home (where we now live) when one of us dies. It’s going to happen. We may as well talk about it. BOTH of us have stated – we’re in agreement – that whoever is the survivor would sell the house and move into something smaller, more manageable. So, we figured, why not do that now? Do it together, get settled, and then when that grieving time comes, the remaining spouse would NOT have to do it or make such decisions during such a sad time. And after running all the numbers, it just makes good financial sense.

        For some folks our age, this mortgage-free goal has already been accomplished. Not for us. We attribute the delay to having multiple marriages (both of us) and having to “start over” to some degree after each divorce. Not recommended, but it’s in our pasts. Also, we don’t remember having good financial role models.

        It also took us awhile to learn good money management skills. Budgets. Emergency savings. Retirement funds. Sharing. Allowances. And healing the wounds around money issues from childhood into adulthood and through the present. The scabs of those wounds get lifted on occasion, but mostly they’re quickly put back into place where they belong… the past. We’ve looked at our beliefs and (mis)trust issues around money and abundance MANY times and often. There have been arguments, blow-outs, tears, and recovery. Not so much anymore. Thank goodness.

        One thing we’ve done correctly over the past five to eight years is make better decisions about what we do with the funds after the sale of a home. Those decisions have brought us to our beautiful resort-like home, which will soon be put on the market. We’ve lived here two years. We could continue to live here. We can afford the payments. We just don’t want to do it anymore. So we’ve decided to downsize, once again, but in a different direction and with more experience behind us. We’re aware of how much of a downsize we can handle.

        The previous moves included going from large homes (3,300 to 4,500 square feet) to smaller ones (1,600 square feet) with large lots. The house was either too small or the property too much to take care of. We learned what we could or wanted to maintain. We learned how much space we needed for a home so we could live together and still like each other. This time we’ve selected a manufactured home (think double-wide) of 1,800 square feet on a rented lot that we can maintain or hire out.

        We call it #18 (part of the address). We’ve had “919” and “22” and currently we’re in “474.” It’s a thing we do when we remember the different places we’ve lived. In Australia it was simply “Margaret Avenue” or the “Turramurra” house. In childhood (for me) it was “Swan Creek” or “Gratiot Road.” We like the numbers better. And, yes, we read the house numerology descriptions along the journey.

        Thankfully, this time, the downsize process won’t require us to get rid of too much of what we’ve accumulated in furniture. We did most of that two moves ago. What we don’t really need will go into a storage unit for now until we get the rest all sorted out and in-place. Whatever is extra can be given away or sold.

        We can keep our books for “the library” room. I have room for my sewing machine and craft supplies and keyboard. We’ll both have offices. And we have approval to keep our new hot tub. Whew! However, the covenants, as we discovered, allows for only one dog. We have two.

        Our little Zoey will be carefully re-homed to someone who will care for her as well or better than we have. She’s a likeable and sassy miss that is more adoptable than our Casper. It’s taken a long time to get him to trust us and heal from his wounded past. Both dogs were rescues over three years ago, but Casper had a much more dramatic past to overcome. Zoey has been his teacher. He’s come a long way, but has further to go to be the wholly, healed dog I see him to be. Zoey’s got it covered. She knows who she is and lets you know it! She’s already a love-bug (when she allows it). Casper is still overly cautious about who is allowed to come near him (or us). Perhaps being an only dog will give Casper the extra attention and space he needs to discover himself.

        There you have it. The “why” and a bit of the “how” of it all.

        We’ve selected a comfortable home in a beautiful, treed setting just a few miles from where we are. A small town and all its shops are within walking distance. A bike trail and river are just a few minutes’ walk from our neighborhood. We’ll be surrounded by vineyards, orchards, and parks. We’re still a short drive to friends and restaurants and other activities. We’re planning to do a few upgrades and changes before we move in. Things we’ve done at other homes.

        And what helps us KNOW we’ve made the right decision is how quickly and precisely EVERYTHING has “fallen into place” in the time since we made the decision. Even our ego-voices have nothing to say at this point. This has totally been a God-thing.

The process began just a week ago. The price of the next home came down. The initial mortgage was approved; preliminary papers have been signed. The inspection is scheduled. The realtor for our current home is on-board and ready to list it early next month. The packing is underway to stage our home for sale… and there’s not a lot to do in the way of repairs. Just decluttering and cleaning. This house will sell quickly. It only takes one… and what if it’s easy… is our frame of mind (mantra) and our experience.

        And it’s all happened easily and effortlessly around the plans and projects we already had scheduled. Everyone involved has been helpful and friendly. We’ve received TONS of support and validation about our decision from friends and family. The timing is perfect!

        I’m looking forward to enjoying our new lifestyle after all the boxes have disappeared and the paperwork is filed. We’ve both worked a long time to get to this point, even with all the life detours we made along the way. I like (and love) my husband. I pray we enjoy this new place together for at least 20 years. The last owner of #18 lived to be 102 years old! Maybe we will, too. It’ll be fun to discover who we are in this different mode of living.

        Thank you, Spirit! I love this creative Life!!

Coat of Many Dreams

During the time I was a single mother (late 1970’s-early 1980’s), I struggled financially to support my young son and myself. I made sure we had shelter, food, clothing, and sometimes recreation or fun things to do. We often dreamed about the places we wanted to visit, the activities we thought would be fun to experience, and what we would love to have.

For me, getting the large Spiegel catalog a couple times a year set me off visioning for myself, especially about how I wanted to present myself in the world by wearing the clothes offered in that catalog. I saw myself in the elegant and classic styles of that time.

Occasionally, I managed to save enough money to purchase a sweater or slacks. One time I even saved enough to buy a military green, long duster coat. I wore that coat for years. It protected me through many snowstorms on my travels to and from the bus stop. But the photograph of the model wearing a long, wool, tailored coat with princess lines… that was the one that seemed beyond my reach.

Fast-forward thirty-five years. My son is grown and gone. Spiegel is no longer in business. However, my desire for that wool coat never wavered. A few years ago, I found a sewing pattern in the style I remembered and loved. More time passes, and, through an online fabric outlet, I bought yards of washable wool in a light gray color at a price I can easily afford. Months after it arrived in the mail, I took a small sample to a local craft/sewing store and purchased satin lining to match.

By the time I had accumulated all the necessary materials, I was living in a mountainous, cold area of Colorado where a wool coat would certainly make winters more comfortable.  But between finishing up a school degree project, remodeling a house for sale, moving, and then engaging in the new community’s activities, the large sewing project waited for almost two more years.

Until now.

Several weeks ago, I placed the first pattern piece onto the wool fabric. I trembled as I cut the material. It was really happening. My fashion dream would become a wearable reality. And piece by piece, step by step, I took my time throughout the long-awaited process. At first, I questioned my sewing abilities to take on such a project. But as the coat began to take shape, my confidence and skills met the challenge. When necessary, I watched sewing lessons via DVD or online. I’d waited this long; there was no hurry to rush through with a bad job.

The end result was exactly what I’d hoped it would look like. Tailored. Classic. Feminine. The long length and swirling hemline a bit medieval. I cried as I completed the final stitches. Success! Completion! Persistence had paid off in self-satisfaction and pride – and I had a lovely coat to show for it. One that I could wear for many years.

This has been a year of recognizing the longing and desires of my heart. I’ve sought guidance from those wiser than me. Weighed decisions carefully before responding. Established new boundaries and interests. Released worn-out things and toxic relationships. Welcomed new friendships. Finished long-desired projects and developed new skills.

It feels like I’m at a turning point… reconsidering the frantic way I’ve always done life. I want to be busy, but at a pace that breathes with life and joy.

I’ve taken a few days to enjoy “finishing” the coat, as well as completing a book series I’ve been reading. I’m ready to jump into “what’s next” yet I do hear the internal warning to pace myself… take care of myself. I feel a bit apprehensive that the next creative endeavor will require a longer commitment from me and I want to be sure I’m willing to make it.

What I know for sure is how much I enjoy the process of creation, something I refuse to give up. Thus, whatever the next step turns out to be, I’ll be challenged, enlightened, and required to grow in some way. I am ready for that!

Community Everywhere

Not too long ago I bemoaned feeling disconnected from a group with whom I’d spent many active months of participation, but in which I was no longer actively involved. I started looking around for other options and realized my life was filled with connection!

My newest exercise schedule includes walking, inside, at the large shopping mall in our town. Yes, I’m a “mall walker.” I log ten to fifteen miles each week as I traverse the brown tile path along the many large, glass windows stuffed with mannequins and clothing trends and assorted items of interest. It helps to go early. Before the stores actually open. Less temptation to buy things. Many others share these halls and that brown tile path. I’m never really alone.

We are a walking community. That is our common bond and purpose for being there each morning. No long conversations except by those who bring along their own walking partners. The dimly lit, wide halls are mostly silent until the mall music begins.

There’s the gentleman wheeling his oxygen tank behind him and the younger woman (maybe his daughter) who tags alongside. One tall, white-haired man, always wearing a flannel shirt and bent slightly forward at the waist, shuffles alone. A woman in a blue sweater with perfect brown hair has her purse strap diagonally strapped across her chest with a perfectly-matched brown purse hanging over her left hip.

The security guard in his yellow, uniform shirt with bold black letters strolls in the opposite direction and down the middle between the regulars. He seems oblivious to the rules of walking. His walkie-talkie positioned on his hip is silent most days as well.

Another man – small thin frame, gray hair, glasses, and walking shorts – has such a fast pace he’s almost running. He always waves “hello” from across the concourse. I wave back quickly before he’s out of view.

A thin, petite woman, her long, gray and white hair piled high on her head, walks in private up and down one of the side wings of the tentacled mall layout. Back and forth, around the edge of her own routine, her head struggles to hold up the heavy hair as her chin and neck jut forward to maintain balance. Her tiny frame is dressed in a sweater, knit leggings, and tennis shoes. Her arms swing front-to-back like a power walker on a mission. She has the most engaging smile through bright red lipstick.

Then there’s Kathy, the mall worker who washes the entrance door windows, dusts the concourse furniture, and always has a smile and a “hello” to share, if you can catch her eye. Her earplug wires connect her head to some device in her back pocket but never seem to get in the way of her duties as she goes inside and outside to clean the windows.

It was through a short conversation with Kathy that I discovered I’m the walker who wears the cute hats. The day we exchanged names I wasn’t wearing one and she nearly didn’t recognize me. Now I make sure to always wear a hat before I enter this quiet community of dedicated walkers. If anyone’s taking attendance, I want to be sure I’m counted.

I’ve come to see that community is everywhere if you’re but willing to look and engage with those around you. Whether it’s greeting the store staff as they lift metal doors or fill display cases with jewelry, there’s a familiarity among the regular walkers. As I deepen the connection through these casual waves and acknowledge the repeated “hello’s,” I find it’s also what keeps me coming back. Each of us is contributing to community just by showing up.

# # #