Another Halloween Season is upon us. It’s a time of dress-up and fantasy for children and adults. A few years ago the Jack Canfield book, “The Success Principles” gave me an idea for a make believe party I hoped would have life altering potential. I’ve been thinking a lot about that party recently.

Instead of the traditional costume party associated with the holiday, I decided to challenge myself and my guests to imagine the life we would choose for ourselves. Then come as that person 5 years in the future. It was 2006. The party invitations said “Come as you will be in 2011”.

I planned a feast for a couple dozen friends and family. I used pictures and a little creativity to change magazine covers to reflect some possibilities for my invited “dignitaries” and “celebrities”. I even got a friend who owned his own production business to photograph the party. We interviewed everyone about their “accomplishments”. Most of the younger guests embraced the concept. The more mature invitees weren’t quite able to wrapped their minds around the idea, but everyone was up for a good time.

In Chapter 11 of the book Canfield quotes Albert Einstein when he writes, “Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life’s coming attractions.” I think we too often treat our future like some great mystery. We just kind of show up and see what’s there.

However, the most successful people clearly see what they want long before it becomes reality. That vision, Canfield believes is the catalyst for creating the life we desire. 

Of course, it’s not that easy for me to clearly picture every detail of my future. My mind seems too easily distracted. If I’m focusing on my business, then family, my writing, or health will shift my attention. But, just because you may not be good at something is no reason not to try. Even my 4 year old grandson who is learning to write the letters of the alphabet appreciates the benefits of practice. I’ve discovered meditation is useful in helping to settle my naturally busy mind.

It’s definitely worth the effort. One young woman imagined herself as the manager of a major department store in five years. It turns out she is a manager of a division at a large department store locally.

My daughter who was a graphics designer for the television station where we both work saw glamour and just general “fabulousness” in her future.

Well, needless to say that’s what she’s got. She’s working in front of the camera now, and her future looks bright.

My husband saw success in his HVAC business. He’s doing quite well. Neither of us saw divorce in our future at the time, but even that has left us both happier. I think we will always be friends.

For the party, I wore a chain belt decorated with old keys. They were symbols of the “Keys” to success. There were a lot of keys on that belt, and I can’t say I’ve achieved all the goals I’ve set for myself. But, I’m amazed at how my life has changed. It’s a work in progress, and a journey that I continue to enjoy.

The holiday has reminded me of the vision I set for myself. There’s no real trick involved in focusing the mind and clearly seeing what you want. If you can do it there’s certainly a big treat waiting in your future. Happy Halloween.

I just finished an absolutely scandalous book.  It was so titillating and subversive it was banned in Ireland, and it’s listed on the American Library Associations most challenged books.   Needless to say it’s got me thinking.

Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World” was published in 1932.  It’s set in the year 2540 AD.  In the paradise Huxley envisions the traditional family structure of marriage, and parenthood is gone, and so is organized religion.  Most recreation in this new world centers around sex, and a drug “Soma”.

 In this futuristic world humans are no longer born, they’re mass produced in “Fertilization” factories.  From infancy everyone is conditioned through sleep-learning to conform to one of five castes.  The highest level Alphas are the controllers and managers.  Chemicals are used in the hatchery process to inhibit the physical and cognitive ability of those destined for the lower castes.

 The whole idea is to maintain order and stability.  There is no competition, because no one strives to change their predestined and carefully conditioned lot.  There are no broken hearts over lost love, because everyone “belongs” to everyone.  Family and national loyalties that often produce conflicts are avoided, because there are no families or nations.

 Of course, these elements of society that are the source of our deepest pains, also fuel our greatest joys.

 One the characters is the illegitimate son of an Alpha controller, and a stranded Beta female.  On the Indian reservation where he is raised, John is exposed to everything the “civilized” world has rejected.  As an outsider among the natives, he finds solace in an old copy of the works of Shakespeare. 

 When John is taken to the new world he’s called the “Savage”.   By then he’s already fallen in love with Lenina, a young visitor to the reservation. As you might imagine, the relationship, and John’s life plays out like a Shakespearean tragedy.

 Through a few brief pages of satirical fiction Huxley paints a grim picture of what the world might become stripped of all spirituality and morality, and fueled by base desires and material consumption.

 Today, some might argue we are closer to Huxley’s New World than we think.  I however, am hopeful that mankind will come to grips with the good and bad of humanity, and somehow find a peaceful balance.

 Critics call “Brave New World” “anti-family”, and “anti-religion”. Personally, I find the book very thought provoking, and that I think is what good literature is all about.  You can bet there will be plenty more “banned” books on my reading list.

The story takes place during a time when the earth as been systematically taken over by a species of parasitic aliens. Inside their host bodies the aliens take altruism to a creepy new height.

The “Souls” as they call themselves bring peace and harmony to the earth. They cure all disease, and bring an end to mankind’s worries. Of course there is a dark side to the new paradise. The consciousness of the indigenous population is wiped out, and “Seekers” among the aliens are armed to ferret out any humans who have managed to escape.

If you’re wondering how the planet got in this predicament caused by such wimpy aliens it might be because they caught us off guard. While we were preparing for the Predator type invaders, these guys slipped in with kindness. One minute we’re having apple pie and coffee at the neighbor’s house (who has been taken over), and the next thing we know our bodies are home to a new species.

But one alien called Wanderer is not able to get rid of her host. Melanie floods Wanderer with emotions and memories that ultimately lead the alien to the humans. Along the way, the two minds sharing the same body become friends.

The story explores love, fear, prejudice, and hope. Through Wanderer and Melanie we see the best and the worst of both species. There also seems to be a lesson here about the good and bad in each of us. Perhaps the two extremes are necessary.

Like the aliens, the human ego seeks to “get rid of” the part of itself it doesn’t want to acknowledge. Psychologist call it repression, and it never really seems to work out. That’s because the repressed parts of our psyche somehow manage to wreak havoc for us in the form of some “shadow”.

The shadow is often seen by others, but we’re blind to it.  The aliens could only see themselves has good and peace-loving. They felt justified in taking over the planet and it’s inhabitants, because they made it a “better” world.

When Wanderer opened her eyes to her own dark side she was able to see the light in “violent humans” who were also struggling to survive. Similiarly, when we come to acknowledge and even accept our own hidden shadows  our lives become much better, inside and out.

It’s amazing how a few images from a mediocre pocket camera can immediately transport my mind thousands of miles across the Atlantic to a place I’ve visited only once, at the start of this summer.  The season is coming to an end this week, but the memories and pictures are always here to take me back.  If you’ve got a few minutes you can travel with me.  Thankfully, we don’t have to worry about the depressing dollars to Euros exchange rate.

Paris is called the “City of Light”.  It’s also a place I’ve dreamed about most of my life.  Someone asked me “Why Paris?  All I could think of is, “Why not?”   After spending nearly two weeks there I now have dozens of reasons that may someday take me back.

I was a little nervous stepping out of the Airport wondering how I’d find the shuttle vehicle that was suppose to take me to my hotel.  Imagine my excitement when I spotted a young man standing right outside the terminal holding a sign with my name on it.  (I was too loaded down with luggage to dig out the camera)  I did get his picture when we got to the hotel.  The drivers name was Frank, and his English was excellent.  He said he taught himself.

Frank dropped me off at the Hotel Mecure Paris Opera Garnier on rue de l’lsly, right in the heart of the tourist district.  The hotel looked just like the Google image I had viewed online many times after booking the trip with a local Travel agent.  

Everyone had warned me to expect very small, even cramped accommodations.  So, I was prepared to sleep in a closet sized room, instead I was given the key to my suite.  It was actually two rooms, with two baths, two TV’s and a mini-refrigerator stocked with complimentary drinks (no extra charge).  I’m already loving Paris.

Having arrived so early I had plenty of time to get out and see the area around my hotel.  My walk took me to the nearby Square Louis XVI.   It reminded me a little of Bienville Square in downtown Mobile.  There were lots of shops and restaurants in the area.   I found a small store where I picked up some snacks and a bottle of wine for my room.  This vacation is officially on. 

It was raining the next morning.  After the complimentary buffet breakfast I asked the hotel clerk what she recommended on a rainy day.  The clerk suggested the Louvre.  No problem, since I already had the museum, monument, and transportation passes I had ordered ahead of time. 

I actually stood in the long line leading into the museum for an hour before I realized there was a separate entrance at the front that would let me bypass the line.  Oh well, if my French had been better I could have asked.

The inverted pyramid in the lobby of the famous museum reminded me of the closing pages of Dan Brown’s novel “The Da Vinci Code”.  Was I really standing on the site where Christianity’s biggest secret surrounding the Holy Grail was hidden?  I doubted it, but it was a good spot for a picture.

You could spend days in the Louvre which is divided into to three major wings, and still not see everything which includes 35,000 pieces of art spread throughout 645,000 square feet.  I decided to give it my best shot in one day.

I started with the Denon Wing home to the world’s most famous painting, da Vinci’s “Mona Lisa”.   The fictional character Dr. Robert Landon found an important clue behind the portrait in Brown’s novel.   In the book the scene takes place after museum hours.   I guess Brown knew no one gets within 20 feet of the painting during the day.  I managed to squeeze through the crowd to the roped off area for a quick snapshot before moving on.

I wasn’t disappointed with my tour of the wing.   It includes a beautiful collection from ancient Egypt, as well as Greek and Roman Antiquities.  This is also the wing where I discovered the most inspiring piece of art for me. 

The “Winged Victory” sits atop the Daru staircase.  It’s breathtaking even at a distance.  The headless statue depicts the Goddess Nike descending from Olympus.  I don’t know why I found the piece so moving.  Maybe her spread wings symbolize the freedom I’ve embraced in my own life. 

There’s another famous beauty in the Sully Wing, the armless Venus de Milo.  The sculpture courtyard in Richelieu wing was also a major treat. 

By the time I made it back to the hotel late that evening I felt like I’d run a marathon. I was too tired to search for French food.  I had dinner at a nearby Thai Restaurant. 

The next morning I took the Metro to Pac de Buttes-Chaumont in the 19^th arrondissement.  It’s where a group gathers for Qigong every morning.   It’s also where I met my new friend Jean Luc.  I arrived early, and wasn’t sure I had at the right place.  Jean Luc overheard me questioning a couple of Asian women who apparently didn’t understand my poor French.  He informed me I was at the right spot.  During the conversation that followed I learned he was a retired opera singer who had visited the U-S several times.  It didn’t take him long to ask if I’d like to join him at a dance party that evening. 

Well, I remember the warnings about talking to strangers, and I saw the Liam Neeson movie “Taken.”  It was about the kidnap of two young girls in Paris who foolishly accepted a party invitation.  Of course, I’m not a young girl, so I think I let him finish asking the question before I said “Qui”.

It was a chance to experience Paris with real Parisians which was my plan all along.

Jean Luc took tango dance lessons.  His instructor put on the class so the students could show off their skills.   After the dance demonstrations, it was time to boogie.  I had a wonderful time.   Everyone’s English was much better than my French.  One man was such a good dancer he made me think I could dance as he twirled me around the floor.  I must say I felt very welcomed.

We stayed until about 2:30 in the morning.   Jean Luc drove me back to the hotel in his prized classic convertible.  It attracted a lot more attention than I did, but I can’t remember the name.  I think he called it a Dochivo?

Whatever it was it came in handy over the next few days.  After sightseeing on my own during the day, Jean Luc and I took in some sights at night. 

We had “cream” on the River Seine, and enjoyed an outdoor entertainer.  I really like this area of France, near Notre Dame.  I came back at least three times, once just to sit at a quiet spot on the river.

Over the next few days I visited the Eiffel Tower,  Sainte-Chapelle, and made my way down the Champs Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe.   

I went searching for the famous Phantom at Opera  Garnier.   I didn’t find him, or maybe I was so awed by the opulence I just didn’t notice the lonely apparition.

My trip to Versailles with Jean Luc included a visit to St. Germain, and a picnic at the Queens garden.

Luxembourg Gardens on the Left Bank was my favorite park. It’s beautiful, well mantained, and they do reserve a section for picnics on the grass.

The view from atop Tour Montparnasse, the tallest skyscraper in Paris gave me a birds-eye panoramic view of the historic city.  

Thanks to Jean Luc I got to see a lot of Paris at night when the lights are on.   The Eiffel Tower sparkles for five minutes at midnight.  And even my camera captures the beauty of  Sacre-Coeur after dark.

Before I left for my I trip, it seemed almost everyone told me to be prepared for rude Parisians.  I don’t know what part of Paris they were referring too.  I never encountered anything resembling rudeness. 

 It was more like a whole lot of southern hospitality with a European twist.

Words flow from Williams voice with a crisp clarity that conveys the kind of confidence and authority many on-air personalities aspire to emulate. But, the former radio announcer and voice-over artist lost his way many years ago, falling victim to drugs, alcohol, and crime.

Following his brief encounter with the television news crew, job offers started to pour in almost immediately. An NFL team agreed to hire Williams for an announcers position. Other possibilities include offers from MTV and Entertainment Tonight. All promise a steady income and the possibility for a new start. Perhaps I, like so many others wanted to believe a good job was all this talented man needed to turn his life around.

Of course, the media is a two-edged sword. It cuts both ways. One side of the blade opened our hearts to the homeless man’s plight. The other side quickly began to reveal some of the deep rooted problems that landed him in his unenviable position.

It turns out his claim of being alcohol and drug free for the past two years was a lie. It’s not something I hold against him, because drug addicts are prone to lie.

Many witnessed a painful reunion with the estranged family Williams abandoned years ago. He told one adult daughter he would buy her a Louis Vitton purse something he obviously felt could smooth over her neglected childhood.

It seems Williams life reveals something about my own, and perhaps humanity in general. We are far more complex than we may realize. All of our lives are “onion-like” with many layers. Peeling through the layers can be uncomfortable, and even painful.

Williams may have wandered the streets of Columbus invisible to most until one interview shed light on his talent. Now, we realize he will need a lot of psychological, and emotional support to overcome his personal demons, and live a self sufficient life.

Williams is on his way to a rehabilitation program following a two day interview on the Dr. Phil Show. It is my prayer that he will have the courage to look at the parts of himself that have placed and kept him on a destructive path much of his life.

I do believe he can make the changes needed in order to live a productive and purposeful life. I’m sure it won’t be easy, and it may take longer than 90 days of rehabilitation.

Hopefully, those in a position to help won’t give up on him when his name is no longer headline news.

If Williams responds to the help he’s finally being offered he may one day possess both a voice and a life that is truly “golden”.

I’ve been thinking about the recent yard sale at my neighbors house.  It wasn’t the usual baby furniture, and old clothes for sale.  There were items collected over a lifetime going for bargain prices.  My neighbor was spared the pain of seeing her possessions carted off by strangers.  Alzheimer’s stole her mind ultimately forcing her family to put her in a nursing home.

There was something different in the sons eyes when he told me his mom’s fate.  It may have been the kind of sadness a child has when they realize their beloved parent no longer recognizes them.

I scanned the tables set up under the carport as people passed with arms full of bargains.
There were odd shaped serving dishes stacked on one corner.  I thought they must have looked lovely on her party table.  I wondered how many times had she used the Christmas china also for sale?  I walked into the storage and shop area off the carport.  It was where her late husband kept all his carpentry tools.  It was a hobby he enjoyed after retirement.  The room was mostly bare.  

I remembered the patio furnished with cushioned lounge chairs was always surrounded by a beautiful garden with blooming flowers and lush foliage.   On this day the patio was in disarray.  The garden was overgrown with weeds.  An angel statue covered in dark mold in the middle of the yard was barely visible through the tall grass.

Inside the house there were prices taped to everything.  Sofas, tables, lamps, pictures, books.  Yard sale prices on items I’d seen on late night infomercials and resisted the temptation to buy.  I couldn’t bring myself to purchase anything here either.

During one of my rare visits to the house I remember my neighbor told me her husband had built the entertainment center in the family room.  It was made of birchwood from the floor to the ceiling, with beautiful detail carvings. 

A set of white ceramic deer figurines rested on one shelf.  As I made my way toward them for a closer look a woman picked up the largest figure and turned it over.  She announced the price to her husband, $3.00 then stuffed the figurine along with the others in a box she was carrying.  

There is an old clique, “You can’t take it with you.”  I realize it’s not just death that can strip us of all the items purchased over a lifetime.  Sickness, or a sudden shift in the economy can also separate us from our property small and great.

It’s no surprise many of the world’s major religions share a common teaching on the ephemeral nature of material possessions.   Christians are reminded, “A man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”  Through meditation Buddhist come to see contentment is not achieved through the accumulation of many possessions.  Hindus believe body, mind, and even material possessions are all transient and subject to change.

Relationships change too, but they’re also more flexible, which makes them more enduring.  So if you notice me showering my friends and family with hugs and words of thanks,  it’s just my way of showing appreciation for my most valuable possessions.    The things in life that can’t be bought or sold.

“He begged for his life.”   The District Attorney’s description of the young man’s last words to his would be robbers just moments before he was shot in the head leaves me with a surge of emotion.  There is sadness over the loss of a promising young life that ended in terror,  empathy for the family left to grieve,  and anger over the seeming unfairness of the situation.   As the tragic saga  continues to unfold in the courts and the media I find myself contemplating the inevitability of death and thinking how will I face my own.

As a journalist, I have covered more deaths than I can count.   Some of the reports left me in tears literally.  In my personal life, I have also had many friends and loved ones pass on.   But two individuals touched my spirit with their examples of both life and death.

My Godparents were truly a God sent blessing in my life.  They filled in the gap left by my natural parents.  I could not have loved them more, nor could any child have been given more love than I received from this childless couple.

She lived in Detroit, but Mama spent her last months with me in Alabama where I could better care for her as her health continued to fail.   It also gave Daddy who was getting up in age a break.

When Mama asked me to arrange for her flight back to Detroit three months earlier than she had planned, I was afraid I might have done something to make her no longer feel welcome or comfortable in my home.  She assured me that was not the case.  She said she had something important she needed to take care of at home, and promised she would come back.  She insisted Daddy could not handle this task.

On the morning she was scheduled to leave dense fog delayed her flight.  It gave us a few more precious hours together.  I remember the advice she gave me about my marriage, and my husband whom she adored.  She told me how proud she was of my children and my work.  Her words left me filled with love and tenderness.  There was no hint she was actually saying goodbye. 

It was before 9/11 and Homeland Security,  so I was able to walk my mother to her seat on the plane and fasten her seatbelt.  There was an angelic innocence in her face as I kissed her forehead, and said goodbye.  Her spirit seemed light enough to soar, free of any burdens and regrets.
 
One week later, resting in her own bed,  Mama peacefully closed her eyes and said goodnight to the world, and the life she always tried to live to the full.

I was better prepared emotionally when Daddy’s time came 13 years later.   A respiratory illness caused daddy to struggle for every breath.  The condition had progressively worsened over the years.  Long before his final trip to the hospital Daddy had  talked to me about every detail of what I needed to know to make his passing as smooth as possible.   It was a conversation I was mature enough to listen to,  knowledgeably enough to write down, and wise enough to have one of my father’s church member’s sign as a witness.   At the time, I did not realize how crucial daddy’s foresight would prove to be.  In the end, he spared me a lot of family drama following his death. 

The real blessing was the fact that I was at my father’s bedside when the end came.  I held his hand, and watched as his breathing that was so difficult for so long settled.   I kissed his forehead and told him I loved him.  He was too weak to talk, but I could see the love I’d known my entire life in his eyes.  I could also see “goodbye”.   I did notice a hint of sadness, but there was no fear in his face as he took his last calm breath.
 
I have no way of knowing if my last moments will come at the end of a long, fruitful, and happy life, or the result of some random act of violence.  However, I am thankful for my Godparents legacy of life and death.   Live fully, express love and forgiveness to others and yourself, and do as much good as your resources and time will allow.  If I can master this lesson, hopefully, I will face death as they did with dignity and grace.

From the air the night lights resemble any other big city in the U.S.  But as I flew into Metro Airport on my last visit home I already knew it was not the same city that nurtured my youth. 

As a young child Detroit was the place that gave birth to my dreams.  Back then I wanted it all, the white picket fence, a loving spouse, a successful career, and lots of children who were welcome and safe in our neighbor’s homes.

Those childhood aspirations all seemed possible in the “Motor City” once the automotive capital of the world.  And there were no apparent limits to Motown’s ability to take young singers from poverty to riches.  By the time I was ready to start kindergarten on the cities eastside, Rosa Parks, the mother of the civil rights movement was settled on the westside.   It was a sure sign any child in the city could reach their dreams.  

I was just a little girl when my adult cousin from Nashville took me and her daughters through my neighborhood where she grew up in Detroit.  I always thought I’d do the same thing with my own children.

I would show them the “Big Three” supermarket that was just a block from my great aunt Carrie’s house on Waterloo.  It was where I took bottles collected from the back porch of neighbors to exchange for money to buy penny candy.   The supermarket was right across from Lieberman’s Department store where Aunt Carrie bought my first pair of saddle shoes. They were the only shoes I outgrew before they wore out.

Not only are those “landmark” businesses long gone, so is my old neighborhood.  It was bulldozed in the 70’s to make way for an apartment complex.

The church where I attended Sunday school most weeks is still there.  I recited the poem “Gethsemane” for an Easter program one year.  It was one of the rare times my mother and I went to a service together.  She wore a big yellow hat with flowers on it, and a yellow dress.  I remember thinking she was the most beautiful women on the planet. 

Many of the streets I remember are gone.  A sign on a small section of Waterloo is all that’s left of the street that was once a major part of my life.  My old middle school sits on the  corner.  It’s the school where I learned to swim.  It closed long before the current turmoil afflicting  the city school system.  

This year the superintendent announced the closing of 30 more schools across the city.  No one has a satisfactory answer about what’s happening with the schools in Detroit.  About 30 percent of the students in the city attend Charter Schools . 

Charter Schools receive public and private funding.  They are not bound by the same government rules as public schools, and I’ve heard praise and criticism about them.   Their purpose is to improve the quality of education, but there are conflicting studies as to whether or not they do.

The High School where I was introduced to journalism is still there.  A friend tells me Dr. Martin Luther King Junior Senior High is a bright spot in the financially strapped school system. 

President Obama was in Detroit not long after my visit.  The president praised the auto industry rebound since the 60 billion dollar bail out for Chrysler and GM.  This year for the first time since 2004 the Big Three each posted  first quarter profits. But, the deal will ultimately cost American taxpayers between 12 and 24 billion dollars depending on whose figures you believe.

It was a big sacrifice to save more than a million jobs across our nation.  It might be easy to reject a request from wealthy auto executives who head to Congress on private jets.  But, I can understand why the government could not turn a deaf ear to workers who may not be able to afford the cars they produce, and who struggle to pay bills every month.  Cutting them off would be like amputating a limb.  It could produce a hemorrhage felt across the country.   The auto industry that supported my childhood will never be the same, but at least it will survive. 

The Housing Industry is still in turmoil in the city.  Boarded up, dilapidated houses have taken over entire streets.  Developers are putting new houses on some streets,  but some of those are boarded up too.  It’s an odd mix of  blight and new construction,  but I sense no real revitalization in these areas. 

Perhaps the bigger tragedy is the foreclosures that continue across Detroit.  One friend on the Westside pointed out nearly a dozen foreclosures on her street.  She knows the sad story behind every one.  The house a few doors down was where an elderly couple had lived for years without a mortgage.  That is until sub-prime lenders convinced the wife to take out a 50 thousand dollar loan without her husbands knowledge.   She was placed in a nursing home soon after the deal.  The husband won a lawsuit against the lender, but discovered he still owed the money.  No one seemed to know what the wife did with the cash.  My friend works for a non profit organization on a mission to bring positive change to the city. 

Detroit is down there is no doubt, but I would not count it out.  The spirit symbolized by it’s most famous downtown statute is embodied in the people.  They can turn failure into success, and blight into beauty.

My son and I strolled  through the Heidelberg Project created by local artist Tyree Guyton.  Guyton turned his own deteriorating neighborhood into a poignant art exhibit.  More than 275 thousand people visit the site each year.  The exhibit is more than an expression  of art.  It’s intended to inspire emotions and thoughts about issues and problems in the city, “that have long been ignored, discarded, and given up on.”

The beautiful Renaissance Center downtown has so far not produced the re-birth it promised when it opened in 1977.  Clearly more time is needed. 

The Renaissance that transformed Europe and ultimately influenced the world lasted three centuries.  I hope it won’t take that long for Detroit to reclaim it’s place as an industrial and cultural leader in our nation.

I suspect there is a difficult and painful process ahead for my hometown.  But, I hope I am alive to see the shining future awaiting the city on the river, once the capital of Michigan. 

From the Canadian shore, Detroit looks radiant.  I see that same radiance shining in the eyes and faces of many who have not given up, and it gives me hope.

Wow, I’ve got a birthday coming up this week, number 57.  Boy, has that got me thinking.  It’s not one of those memorable benchmark days like “Sweet Sixteen”.   My Godparents threw me a basement party that year.  On my 18th birthday I was old enough to vote, and just a few months from being able to legally buy beer in my home state of Michigan. It only took lawmakers six years to realize their mistake, and change the legal drinking age back to 21. 

My co-workers at the television station gave me a surprise party on my 25th birthday.  I still have the now tattered paperback copy of the “Joy of Cooking” book set I received as a gift.  I don’t remember who it was from.  I do remember crying during those early morning hours after everyone had left.   I could blame the rum and cokes I’d had that night, but it was really the frightening realization that I was half way to 50, and  a quarter of a century old.  Back then I thought life must be all downhill from 25.   So, what are my thoughts now on the threshold of 57?

I’ve been told I look younger than my years.  That’s comforting.  More importantly I suppose is how I feel.  Most days there is a youthful energy throughout my body.   I’ve learned to breathed deeply, and enjoy the feel of not just oxygen, but the force of life itself throughout my cells. 

Some call the body the “temple” of our soul.  It’s a divine gift that I admit often abusing.   I’ve overworked it, submitted it to yo-yo diets, and  even cursed it for clinging to too many of the calories I consumed.  Despite all that my body rarely complains, and continues to give me it’s best effort.  

On some days I do get unexplained aches, my joints are occasionally bothersome, and I still have trouble touching my toes in a full forward bend.  But, I can swim 20 laps, walk four miles, and kick up into a headstand.   Still, I am aware that my time to use this God-given gift is running short. 

I certainly don’t think I’m old.  Every year my marker for old age gets pushed further back.   The years have brought some limitations on what I can do.  I respect that.  I’ve discovered there’s usually a healthy alternative for many of my limitations.   For example, I no longer have the stamina for the extensive night life I enjoyed in my youth.  Now, I cherish the early morning hours as a time for contemplation, meditation, and planning.

I still have some “growing up” to do.  Hopefully, as my physical ability and appearance continues to change over the years, I will find the maturity to embrace it as a wonderful part of my life’s journey. 

I’m looking forward to well wishes from family and friends for a happy birthday.  Even as I prepare to celebrate this birthday, I hope there are many more to follow.    When I think about my feelings on turning 57 one word comes to mind, grateful.

I managed to keep a steady pace for the two miles to Steele Creek Lodge Park. My mind was focused on the one pound weighs on each wrist, and the nagging ache in my left hip. By the time I reached the Gazebo at the end of the park I was ready for a water break. That’s when my mind shifted to the beauty all around me.

The sun rising from the east over the creek is reward enough for the 30 minute walk. It made me think what other tiny blessings had I raced by without noticing on my way to the park this morning?

I do know the water has a way of making everything seem more peaceful.

The same ducks that I’ve passed many times before were there. Maybe I’ll bring some bread or crackers for them on my next trip.

I had my camera ready for the beautiful butterfly I spotted resting in a tree. Since the small insect has no vanity, I like to think the divine artistic design on it’s wings is just for my enjoyment.

A few minutes later I almost stepped on a caterpillar slowly making it’s way across the paved road. I wonder if it knows there’s a miraculous transformation in it’s future. That is if it survives the perils on the street, and the grassy area on the other side. For now it seems to be camouflaged from the birds perched on the nearby power lines.

The squirrels are out searching for breakfast too. My ears are open by now, and I can hear all sorts of birds and insects. Some sounds I can match with creatures, others I can’t.

I confess I don’t pay much attention to the blooms on the trees, and most days I might walk right by the dragonfly sitting quietly atop my street sign. But, today I’m thankful for all the life around me,  and another day to enjoy it.

These little blessings mean a lot when I take a moment to notice them.