I woke up today both feeling the beauty of the world, and grateful for all that I have, and a lingering sadness. It’s an odd thing, how it comes in waves…

I wrote awhile ago about how sad I was — it was just after I had to use my Fall Button for the EMT’s to come and help me up and into my house — when I realized that I would now never be able to do a host of things I have always loved. In the last 2 years, since taking a fall that left me lying in the dirt for over half an hour before I could get help, I have become increasingly debilitated, taking falls both inside and outside the house. Then, somewhere, out of the blue, a thought came to me and I was awash in sadness. Another loss. 

One of the things about living in Wilmington, NC, is that we are on the ocean, Wrightsville Beach is considered one of the most beautiful beaches along the East Coast. I have seldom ever gone because “in season” the beaches are so unbelievably crowded with tourists you can’t even park out there and you know I don’t do well in crowds and rarely leave the house anyway, but when we moved here in 1992 I still did go out more than I do now and I used to love to go to the beach, off season, when the tourists were gone and it was cooler, and I would take a blanket, a little picnic basket with a snack and a cold drink and my journal, and I would sit in a secluded spot staring at the ocean, which I love, and writing. Those were the loveliest times. And then I hadn’t gone in many years but a dear friend, impromptu, called me 3 or 4 years ago and she said, “I’m coming to get you and we are going out to the beach, There’s a full moon over the ocean tonight and you just can’t miss it!” I wanted to say no, and I wanted to go, but, well, the moon, the ocean… I went, and it was so beautiful it was mesmerizing.

I had once written a screenplay called “SeaMoon” about a symphony conductor and worked with my dear friend, Victoria Bond, who was the conductor of The Roanoke Symphony at that time, one of the few women conductors in the world then, and we would spend long hours together talking about what it was like for her and I learned so much. One night over dinner she taught me how to eat with chopsticks! The screenplay began with the conductor coming home after conducting a symphony where she was much acclaimed, to her home, where she was very much alone, and lonely. She walked through the house without turning on a light because the full moon that night was so big, the back of her house facing the ocean all glass, and so bright it lit up the house. She walked straight into her house, kicked off her shoes, and sat down at her piano and began playing The Moonlight Sonata. It was so beautiful and I carry that image of a woman alone at her piano with the full moon over the sea lighting her otherwise dark house. The fame, on the one hand, and the loneliness of her real life. The darkness and the light. The moon and the sea…

Well I hadn’t thought about this in years, until just a day or so ago, and I realized, with shock, that I could never go to the beach again. If I sat down in the sand I could not get up, and, walking on sand, such as it is, with my feet, I would surely fall. It brought tears to my eyes. It hit me hard. It’s a funny thing, that. It’s one thing to not do something because you simply choose not to do it. It’s another matter when the choice is taken away and though you might not do it often you simply no longer can. For a moment, it gutted me. How many other things have I now lost that I haven’t even thought about yet. It was as though the full moon disappeared behind the clouds and darkness fell again.

But then something came to my mind that eased my heart. We all lose things, for various reasons, at different times in our lives, or the ability to do things, and we lose more, even small things, as we grow older. But what if I can look at it not as a loss, but as an opportunity? As the saying goes, “Nature abhors a vacuum.” When one thing leaves us it opens up the space for more to come in. So yes, there are things I cannot do, and there will be more, but what will come, then, to fill the void? When I think of it this way yes, there is sadness, a sense of loss, but what will come in the place of those lost things? 

And then I thought about the fact that as we age in one way our life becomes narrower, and at the same time it goes deeper. My writing and art have not only become my central work, but I am going much deeper with the work than I ever have. I cannot garden as I once did but I can still have a garden with the blessing of the help I have when I can afford it and it’s enough to keep things going. Instead of transforming nearly an acre into a paradise as I have in my life, I can have a garden in front of my house, and maybe some day it will simply be gardening in a few pots, but I can still grow things, inside and out, and a single flower is now more precious to me than the arms filled with flowers I brought in making huge bouquets everywhere. Even just flowers and herbs from my garden in tiny vases on my kitchen windowsill fill me with joy. 

There will always be losses in our lives, especially as we grow older, and of course we will be sad, and it will take time to process the losses, but if then we can look at them as not only losses but opportunities to try more things we can do, just think what an adventure it might also be. That’s the way I’m trying to look at it. I will have hard sad days, as well as joy-filled days, and the little girl still inside of me who hid from the world is still hiding, and at the same time I, like she did, create fantastical worlds in my mind, and am filled with a sense of wonder about things in nature. There is still so much that is possible, just not everything. 

Oh, I just thought of something I would love to do! I have knitted and crocheted all my life but I was self-taught and I’ve never been able to read a pattern. BUT you know what I have always wanted to do? I have always wanted to learn how to make socks, big, thick, chunky, stripey, rainbowy socks, the kind Maisie wears! And you know what? By gosh and by golly I’m going to learn how to do it. You just watch me!

And now you… what new adventures are possible for you? We are walking this path together. Let’s be adventurers, even if we have to do it from a comfy chair with our wee small fur person tucked in beside us. There is still so much that can be done, there is still so much that is possible. I will have my sad days, but I choose joy, and I have to work at choosing it every day, and I don’t always succeed but I’ll never stop trying. And one day I will wear nothing but rainbowy socks, and my wardrobe may look even odder than it does now but you know what? I will be happy, and as I end this post I am smiling ear to ear. Socks! Imagine that! Yes, I’m going to do it!

OH! Oh, Oh, Oh, I just thought of something else! Cute, funky, adorable, magical sock people! I could use old (Clean of course!) socks and just have a ball with those! He he he. Just imagine this…

Doesn’t she just melt your heart? You win some, you lose some, but there are always socks!

[This post is a portion of a special post I do every Monday for my Patrons at Patreon. There are also several other posts a week for Patrons only. I thank them so much now and always for their support.]