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“When one door closes, another one opens.” Have you ever gone through security doors where the one behind you closes and locks before the one in front of you opens? The door behind clicks shut but there is no sign of the one in front of you opening. You trust the mechanics of the doors, the company that manufactured the door, its mechanisms and the people who maintain the door. There is no doubt that the door in front of you will open.
Too often, though, there seems to be doubt when one door in life closes that another, better door will open. You feel stuck in the middle, wondering what next? Going back is not an option; the door behind is closed and locked. You can only move forward even though door in front is not opening as quickly as you would like. If you can trust the mechanics of the door, why not trust the Universe to open the right door at the right time; the one that will bring joy, happiness, abundance and success beyond our wildest dreams.
The house had a beautiful facade—what the Realtors like to call “street presence”. The landscaping was immaculate and the flowers were in bloom.
Walking through the front door, the foyer was warm and inviting. “What is that strange odor?” Proceeding farther into the house I notice many closed doors. These rooms seem to be off limits. Approaching the rear of the house, the odor becomes stronger. “What in the world could be causing such a stink in a beautiful home?”
Reaching the back door expecting to see a continuation of the lovely landscaping in the front, instead I find the lawn strewn with garbage. Piles and piles of garbage. “Why in the world would anyone pile up their garbage in the backyard instead of carrying it to the curb so the garbage man can haul it away?” I find the homeowner rummaging through the piles of garbage.
“Poor me,” she replies. “I have so much garbage that I just don’t know what to do with it.”
“But why are you going through it? Why not haul it to the curb so it can be hauled away?”
“That seems like an awful lot of work. Besides, I might need my garbage. Other people give me their garbage as well.”
“What are those rooms closed off in your house?”
“Those are full of the garbage I haven’t had time to deal with yet. I’ll get to it one of these days. In the meantime, I’ll just pretend it isn’t there. The garbage piled in the backyard is the garbage other people have dumped on me.
“Why have I allowed them to dump it on you?”
“It’s really not my fault. I’m the victim here. You should feel sorry for me. None of it is my responsibility.”
How ridiculous! Then I take a closer look at the homeowner and realized that she is me. I have a nice facade I show the world. I present the image of being happy and successful. I may invite you into certain rooms that feel warm and inviting but if you look beyond those, you will see the closed doors—the areas of my life I’m ashamed of, afraid to expose for fear you will judge me. Some are just too painful to look at.
There are the trash bags of the hurtful words, old resentments, guilt and fear. If I go back and open those bags once in awhile, I can justify feeling angry, hurt and resentful. I’m not responsible. It’s the fault of the garbage, what other people have dumped on me, expecting me to take on and fix for them.
The garbage weighs me down. It’s time to let it go, haul it to the curb and let the garbage truck haul it away. I don’t need it any longer.
After unexpected setbacks, I’m finally back on track.
To celebrate, I’m offering “F*ck Old Age” at 1/2 price to kick-start my comeback
The book was written and published. Taking the leap, I was flying. Soaring, I felt free and light. I was on my way ready to run forward until I hit the bend in the road and got stopped in my tracks. The landing was rougher than I anticipated with bumps and setbacks I never imagined. I’ve always been healthy and I took my health for granted. Getting sick was the last thing I expected.
I was on the floor checked out. Waking up with the paramedics hovering over me, I had no idea what had happened. At the ER they could find nothing wrong so it was easy to ignore the warnings I was getting and pretend that everything was fine.
The second time it happened, it was in public at the farmer’s market. I got lightheaded and the next thing I knew I was on the ground. As people gathered around there was no longer any possibility of pretending everything was fine. It was obvious that I had a problem.
Another trip to the ER,and I was once again told they could not find any medical reason I had passed out even after multiple tests from a brain scan to a heart scan.
It was time to ask myself “what was so painful to face in my life that going unconscience seemed like the best option?” How much more of a wake-up call did I need? Lying in the CT machine, I heard a message loud and clear. “You’ve been knocked flat twice, what more is going to take for you to wake up and get your attention? This is your life. Live the life you are meant to live and fulfill your destiny.”
I couldn’t see what was ahead and had to slow down to take the curves in the road, rest, evaluate and find the lessons. “What would a warrior do,” I asked. A warrior knows setbacks are temporary. It is a time to breath, regroup and regain her strength, connect with her tribe and troops and plan a new strategy. A warrior will overcome her setback and I AM A WARRIOR! The bend in the road isn’t the end of the road.
Start a Revolution! Baby Boomer women accepted the challenges of their generation and started a movement—the sexual revolution and women’s liberation. We demanded control of our reproduction. We were on the frontlines of social and environmental change.
We now face our greatest challenge—aging. It’s time to start a new revolution to dispel the myths and misconceptions thrust upon us. Women can take on this new challenge, kick ass at any age and once again make history.
Joan Maiden discovers what it means to finish strong in the final act of life and teaches how to reject the limitations of getting old and be your own hero through your golden years.
Unearth your inner warrior, let go of what’s been holding you back. Renew your passion, pursue your purpose, claim your power and make a difference.
F*CK OLD AGE AND EMBRACE LIFE!
Boudica is the central character in “F*ck Old Age”. Who was she and what do we know about her? Boudica was queen of the Icini tribe in eastern Britain around 62 a.d.. There is not much known about her other then what Roman historians have to say.
The Romans were invading Britain and taxing people beyond their means and taking people as slaves if they couldn’t pay their taxes. When Boudica’s husband died, to try to keep the peace with Rome, he left half of their kingdom to Rome and half to their two daughters. The Romans thought they could take it all by flogging Boudica within an inch of her life and raping her two daughters. Little did they know what a pissed off woman could do and Boudica was pissed off. Instead of slinking away the way the Romans thought she would, she gathered the tribes, rallied the troops and formed an army to take on the Roman army and won many battles against them.
Rome, being a male dominated society didn’t know what to think of a woman warrior so they had to make her sound like a real bad ass.
“She was large in frame, terrifying of aspect, and with a harsh voice. A great mass of bright red hair fell to her knees. She wore a great twisted golden necklace and a tunic of many colors, over which was a thick mantle fastened by a brooch. Now she grasped a spear, to strike fear into all who watched her. In build she was very tall, in her demeanor most terrifying, in the glint of her eye most fierce.” Cassius Dio
Boudica is an example of a woman taking charge, becoming a warrior and making a difference.
Last night I decided to stop in at my favorite Taqueria for a bite to eat. Sitting by the window, I observed an older, dirty, African-American homeless man in tattered clothes park his shopping cart and come into the restaurant. He had one of those box meals that you just add hot water to and asked the waitress if she would add water to it for him which she was kind enough to do. She asked him if he needed silverware but he had his own plastic cutlery.
When the waitress came to take my order, I had her ask him if he would like a meal and that I would buy it for him. He smiled and shook his head yes, looked over and me and said “thank you”.
When his food arrived, he started eating and once again looked at me, smiled and said “This is really good!”
Why did I buy his dinner? There are multiple homeless in the area but what I observed through the window before he came into the restaurant made him stand out. When he pushed his cart up to the window, he stopped and took a few minutes to straighten up the few belonging that he had in his shopping cart. The blankets were all neatly folded and things were placed in an orderly fashion.
Even though homeless, dirty and dressed in tattered clothes, he still had enough pride to take care the his few possessions.
As I left the restaurant he once again thanked me. By the few words we exchanged, he was articulate and sounded educated. What’s his story?
California has an overwhelming homeless problem. The warm weather draws people here. In San Francisco, in many neighborhoods, you have to watch where you step or you may trip over the homeless sleeping on the street. There it is legal to live on public property, even sidewalks and in doorways.
It’s obvious that many are mentally ill and/or have addiction problems. As I walk down the street and look into the faces of these lost people, many with empty eyes, I find myself asking, “What’s their story?” Everyone has a story, came from somewhere and may even have family wondering where they are. How did they come to be living on the street?
In San Francisco, the Civic Center is a popular place for the homeless to gather. Walking by there one day, I saw a police officer on his knees with head bowed. In front of him was what appeared to be a bundle of rags. Upon closer observation, I realized that it was a homeless person who had died.
What was his story? How does a human being lose his humanity and end up dying alone on the street, little more than a bundle of rags?
Looking at my garden the other evening, I noticed a little green shoot sprouting. The next day I couldn’t believe the difference. Green shoots were everywhere. What happened? It had rained in the night and the plants got a good drink of water.
Can the same thing happen with people? My client, Grace, at eighty-three was having multiple health problems from difficulty walking, dizziness and mental confusion, just to name a few. She had a spell and ended up in the ambulance on her way to the hospital. The first thing the paramedics did was put her on an IV of fluids. After numerous tests and a stay in the hospital, the doctor could find nothing wrong.
Grace mentioned how much better she felt once she had the IV of fluid. I started to wonder if dehydration could be contributing to her problems. Looking up the symptoms of dehydration in seniors, Grace’s picture could have been next to the entry. They included:
Many seniors don’t drink water because they don’t want to have to get up and go to the bathroom but that’s a small price to pay for the benefits of staying hydrated. Some of which include:
The next time you feel tired, lethargic or confused, drink a glass of water. You may be surprised how much better you feel. Like Grace and the plants in the garden, you may blossom. Water is a miracle drink that could change your life. Drink up!
My Grandma did it. My Grandpa did it. I did it with my daughter. As a mother, I learned rocking soothes a baby. Is rocking beneficial as we get older?
Contemplating this question, I was surprised to find that there has been research done on the benefits of rocking. Just as rocking soothes babies, it can have the same effect on adults. Rocking releases endorphins, the feel good hormone, which elevates the mood. It moves the body into a restorative state and can help relieve pain. President Kennedy used a rocking chair to alleviate his back pain.
For seniors, even those with dementia, it’s been found that rocking reduces anxiety and depression. Rocking stimulates better balance which can help reduce the risk of falls. It is a great way to exercise the ankles. Although it is not a substitute for strength training, rocking can help strengthen weak muscles. It has been found beneficial for people after knee replacement surgery. Rocking stimulates circulation and speeds healing.
Rocking calms the spirit, soothes a stressed body and focuses the mind. Just 15-30 minutes of rocking can be a form of meditation and self-hypnosis. It actually changes the brain waves and has a calming effect.
After a hard day of work, my grandparents would relax on the porch in their rocking chairs and enjoy a glass of iced tea. I’m sure many of life’s problems were solved in those rocking chairs. The front porch was also a social gathering place. Neighbors would drop by, sit, rock and discuss world affairs and the meaning of life.
With all the distractions available now, we don’t often stop and take time to just rock and commune with ourselves. I have my grandma and grandpa’s rocking chairs. I think I’ll bring them out. It’s time to slow down, sit down and rock on.
February 1, 1953—the date on my birth certificate. It says I am 63 years old. I’m not sure what 63 is supposed to look or feel like. I wonder, “how old would I be if I didn’t know how old I was?”
A study at Harvard put two groups of senior men in the environment of their youth—same clothes, furniture, music, cars, TV, magazines, etc. One group was told to reminisce about their youth and the other to act as if they were still young.
“…after just one week, there were dramatic positive changes across the board. Both groups were stronger and more flexible. … But the men who had acted as if they were actually back in 1959 showed significantly more improvement. Those who had impersonated younger men seemed to have bodies that actually were younger.” The conclusion was “the aging process is indeed less fixed than most people think. Wherever you put the mind, the body will follow.”*
There is no time machine to take us back and shag carpeting, the white go-go boots and miniskirt are probably best left in the past, however, there are ways we can impersonate our youth.
Just because the date on my birth certificate says I’m 63, I’ll not let it tell me how old I am—I’ll decide. Today it may be 30, tomorrow, who knows? How old do you choose to be today?
If anyone needs me, I’ll be under the table in my fort, coloring.
* The study can be found at http://harvardmagazine.com/2010/09/the-mindfulness-chronicles
Sitting in a coffee shop in San Francisco, I’m reflecting on why I work out. Yes, reducing belly fat is nice. Looking great in your clothes feels good and being healthy is important. But being strong is my motivation.
As a personal trainer, I feel that it is my job to set an example and workout regularly. Do I always want to or enjoy it every time—no, absolutely not. The effects of working out take time to notice, which causes many people to give up, but every day I workout, I know I am getting stronger.
I want to be strong enough to enjoy my visit to my daughter in San Francisco. Why is being strong important? She lives in a third floor walkup—51 stairs (yes, I counted them). Even though I’ve learned to pack light, my suitcase weighed in at 28 pounds, which I had to proceed to lug up the 51 stairs. It seems like the escalators at the MUNI are always broken, which means more stairs to climb, plus climbing on and off the buses and trains.
Today I decided to hike up Powell Street (I swear it is the steepest street in SF). It was quite a trek but when I got to the top of Nob Hill I had a panoramic view of the city and the bay, and I took a break in the lobby of the beautiful, historic Fairmont Hotel.
I want to be strong enough to go where I want to go, do what I want to do and not have to wonder if I will be physically capable. Many people, as they get older, weaker and larger, let their worlds become smaller. I have slowed down some, but I don’t plan to stop. I never want my body to become a liability that stops me from doing the things I love but rather have it be an asset that takes me where I want to go.