Tag: future

Summer 2020

It continues . . . the world outside my windows, I mean. It looks nearly the same as every previous year. Blue sky, white clouds, my brimming garden of blooms. But something is different this Summer 2020.

That something different keeps me from having coffee with friends. No wine with Diane at Edge or quilting circles with Ellen and Padma and Ana and Lois. No shared space with my womens’ circle of friends — we’ve met together for over 40 years but not this year except by Zoom. No eucharist shared in a chapel sanctuary or in a circle outside. Worst of all, no hugs with my dearest sister, Karen. I miss those hugs the most.

Damn you, Covid 19.

Last winter, I planned (without a thought that such plans could be negated) to do garden work with Karen, do puzzles with our Puzzle Club (“Where Friends Gather To Put The Pieces Together”), maybe take a couple of weekend trips to nearby civil war sites with Bill. Now, I am painfully aware that such things likely will be impossible — in 2020 or maybe in my lifetime.

I am frightfully aware that an innocent mistake (I forgot to put on my mask when I went to pick up medicine for my cat) could result in serious illness or my death. So could something simple like being bumped by someone in a grocery store while picking up a necessary ingredient for tonight’s meal, or socially distanced visiting on a friend’s patio where another visitor unknowingly has the virus, or having an in-person ophthalmologist appointment to get a new prescription for lenses. I am keenly aware of risk and take precautions but all it takes is one misstep and this invisible menace can pounce.

I don’t dwell on this each moment. It would make me crazy. But it is exhausting to have to retain some level of alertness in order not to “forget” caution and not to revert to “old” ways and customary behavior.

So it is Summer 2020. A new experience at age 71 . . . and wondering what will be next.

Where will I be in 2021??

I just left the orthopod’s office after my one year hip replacement anniversary check up. I’ll only need to check in once every two years from here on. My hip surgery has been a total success and it was a good decision to undertake it.

I stopped at the check out desk and commented to the clerk that I didn’t need to come back for two years. Would someone from the office get in touch with me to make an appointment closer to that time or would I need to make a note to myself?

“Oh, we’re making appointments for two years out,” she said and opened the calendar software to 2021.

So, I will be seeing the doctor on November 29, 2021 (a Monday in case you wanted to know). It is now in my Google calendar on my iPhone — the first appointment date in 2021!

As I left the doctor’s office, I wondered . . . 2021. Will I be healthy? Will I be living in the house we’re presently in? What will be going on in my life then? What will I have done with these two years?

Two years used to be a long time. Even now, thinking about 2021 seems so far in the future! And yet as any of us grows older, our perception of time changes — speeding up and making it seem like days fly by before we’ve noticed.

Before we’ve noticed . . . that is the biggest wondering I have about 2021. Will I arrive at November 29, 2021 and wonder where the time went? Will the days between now and then hold any meaningful events, quilting projects (;^), interactions with others, counseling or spiritual direction sessions, losses, challenges . . . ? I cannot expect of myself that every day will be an experience of deep mindfulness — I know I won’t be able to bring deep intentional attention to every moment. But what I do want is to become better at reaching out to make connections with those around me . . . family of course, current friends, but also others whom I don’t know yet (or don’t know well).

I have spent my life as an introvert and my introversion won’t suddenly change to extroversion. All the flavors of my active vocational life (counseling, priesthood, spiritual direction, teaching) involved intense, often profound interactions with many people, and I often ended a work day exhausted and longing for some time alone to allow my soul to catch up with the rest of me.

But in retirement, I have lots of time alone. I have awakened in this stage of life to a longing for connection with others. . . a connection that goes beyond casual conversation and into a deeper knowing. Martin Buber, Jewish theologian and philosopher, called the first kind of relationship an “I/it” relationship in which neither person really knows the other. The latter relationship he called an “I/thou” relationship. In the latter kind of relationship, one seeks both to know and be known by the other. There is vulnerability, authenticity, discovery of truths about oneself and the other. Not all relationships or interactions can be I/thou, and there is nothing wrong with having some I/it relationships. But I know I seek more of the I/thou in my life.

So November 2021? Will I be nurturing deep friendships? Will I be seeking to live mindfully as I walk this earth? Will I be striving to leave this earth and its people a better place in some small way (undoubtedly an infinitesimal drop in the bucket — but hopefully in some way) for my having lived?