the listener

Every so often, I speak to the listener. He does what he does best. Listens.

I speak of my dreams, my fears, my frustrations....and he listens patiently. Then gives his advice.

Sometimes I heed that advice, sometime not. Sometimes I laugh, and sometimes I cry. But always I remember.

Finally, finally I realize that I cannot change anyone else.I can only change myself, and by doing so other changes will hopefully follow.

This advice I intend to follow, and then watch the wheels of change move slowly forward. It looks to be a bumpy ride. Wishing and wanting have gotten me nowhere. But life has been on hold for long enough.

I know that I can make it. I have the listener.

My father and I had been estranged for years. This daddy's girl very much blamed him for the divorce that changed my life forever. Some years ago, out of the blue, the voice (my conscience?) spoke, and told me to reach out and send him a Christmas gift. I did so, and in return my father also reached out and invited me to visit him in Arizona. That visit was wonderful. But all visits must come to an end, and the day of my departure saw us both with long faces. Upon reaching the airport, my father excused himself to make a bathroom stop, and my then-husband followed. Soon it was time to start that long walk to the plane. To this day, I remember hugging my father goodbye. I remember, because I think it was the first hug we had ever exchanged. Halfway to the plane, again the voice spoke to me and told me to turn around. I did, only to see my father standing there with the most grief-stricken, yearning look upon his face. For a third and final time, the voice told me to turn back and return to my dad. I did not listen. Soon the ex and I were winging our way back home, and he turned to me and told me about the strange thing that had happened at the airport. He had followed my father earlier into the airport restroom, only to find him standing in front of a sink, crying. The ex said wasn't that odd? My heart sank, because I realized I had not listened. To this day, I wonder how my life would have changed had I listened, and returned to my dad. Would I have become a better person? Would my father have survived his demons and lived to share a life, finally, with me? Would life have been easier for us both? I will never know. He died a month later. I returned to that place of wondrous light and shadow to strew his ashes beneath a palo verde tree. Every time I look in the mirror, I see my father. I miss him.

are you living, or just existing?

Recently I watched a movie in which one character asked another "are you living, or just existing?" Those words made me stop and think. That happens sometimes.

I am very big on handing out advice to my friends who ask, but I'll be darned if I will listen to my own advice. Do as I say and not as I do, and all that. Lately I definitely have been shifting from living to just plain existing. 'Tis the season for me, but for more than one reason.

Fall. Yes, it is beautiful, but fall for me has always been tinged with sadness because I know full well what is coming - winter. Winter to me means aching bones and yet another chance to break something, anything, due to my general klutziness on any slick surface...and let's face it, winter means slick everywhere. I have thought for quite some time that I suffer from SAD in the fall/winter, and so my lunchtime rambles now become more important than ever. Soaking up some sun, no matter the temperature, is good for my spirit. I need all the help that I can get. Walking has long been my primary way to mellow out. But the catch is the knees. The painful knees. They just won't cooperate.

Oh, the aching knees. Right knee has been wonky and on the mend for over a year now. When I injured it, I had been walking up to 4 miles a night, and the injury led to a virtual standstill. Slowly but surely, with much help, I regained much that I had lost, and managed to work my way back up to about 3 miles a night. Then, about a month ago, the good left knee rebelled at having to work overtime for so long. Back to a standstill. No walking at all. This round has been much, much worse. The pain has been severe and constant. But there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Each day now, there is a longer and longer break in the pain. I am determined to overcome and keep going.

I have to. No longer do I want to merely exist.

I want to live. Again.

outside

Outside. Yes, outside. Outside can be many things: scary enlightening wondrous confusing But you won't know what it will be like for you until you experience it....and there is something new, every day. I work in a box with windows. Every break, every lunch hour possible, I go ouside, outside of the box, to see what will pass my way. You see, the neat thing about outside is that outside is totally free. You just have to go, and there you are. Voila! What a gift. Just go! Up until recently, I was quite the daily walker. Something that puzzled me, day after day, was to see all those television sets flickering away, behind closed doors, on all the beautiful days of summer. These warm days are so fleeting, after all. Why not cherish them while we can? I intend to, even though now it means painfully walking about. But it is worth it, since I never know what wonder I might come across. I never know.