I Feel Like a Hamster

I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels like a hamster. No, I’m not growing fur and shrinking to the size of a cute little creature. Although I am shrinking every year, but that’s another blog.

It’s because I now understand how it feels to be running on a wheel nonstop and getting nowhere.

I can’t be the only one that feels the non-stop craziness of the activities that keep our minds spinning.

Of course, I’ve learned that to help stop the flow of madness one need only turn off the news.

Yes, I do believe you can live a longer and more idyllic life in the world of “I know nothing,” than in the world of awareness.

But I digress, as usual. So how do we decide what to filter from our consciousness and what to allow in? How fast to move and absorb life’s moments?

It may be just the pleasantness of childhood memories that assures me life was much slower then. Or I may be correct in the assumption that the pace was mellower.

It seems the only running I did was when playing sports or to catch a bus.

Before our families owned a second car, it was usually our fathers that drove to work.

Our Moms found activities within walking distance in the neighborhood or were picked up by a friend who was lucky enough to have a car.

Our mode of transportation was our feet or an occasional bus ride. Mostly to downtown or a shopping center newly built nearby.

Travel was a slow and deliberate activity that happened with planning and purpose.

Even walking to the nearby drugstore to sit at the soda fountain or buy a new Archie annual was planned and executed leisurely.

The activities of life were relaxed and purposeful.

So why does it seem these days every movement is designed to raise our fitness level and get our hearts pumping?

Even shopping, which I now call retail cardio is no longer a slow and lazy stroll to view shop windows and wish to be as thin as a mannequin.

Window shopping was shared with friends or family, many times after a relaxing lunch or dinner.

There was purpose and enjoyment to our movement, not simply to log steps on our pedometers.

So, you’re thinking, what’s your problem? At your age there is no need to rush or run through life any longer. You can definitely slow your roll now. Nope, see that’s the irony. It’s not about having the time to take a breath, it’s about the ability.

The pace of life we ultimately grew into and adopted has now become part of our psyche. We no longer just automatically stroll, or move like determined turtles.

We are now programmed to be the hare in our race.

There is a certain amount of guilt inherent in wasting time. Not making the most of every second seems like squandering our lives.

Okay, so yes, one can disguise idleness by calling it meditation. The moments spent in relaxing and listening to our breath reassures us we are using time wisely for health reasons.

Very few of my friends don’t readily admit time is flying by at a faster pace now. The years seem to move ahead at lightning speed.

But of course we know this isn’t the case. The earth still needs 365 days and one extra on leap year to complete a rotation.

So why do we believe time is darting by?

Is it really so fast and spinning like a top instead of moving like a snail?

Why can we no longer just sit and relax while basking in the nothingness of stillness?
Do the years seem to move quicker because there are less of them now? Where once we saw a never-ending supply of time before us, now we see that dreaded stop sign?

So perhaps we move faster to capture all the life we can, gobbling up moments like the last vestiges of crumbs off a yummy chocolate cake.

I imagine there is a rhyme and reason to our pace, but I wonder if it’s not about us at all.

Perhaps we are merely victims of a culture shift so dramatic we never saw the impact it might have on our lives.

It ingrained itself into our lifestyle like the Internet on steroids.

Is it our responsibility to take back our leisure? To create slow and meaningful moments of quiet once more?

And of course we must ask ourselves, is it even possible?

I talk to friends all the time that complain they are not busy enough. They need more to do. We have been told we will live longer if we stay busy and active.

So we rush around looking to fill our days and move quickly to avoid any consequences relaxation might bring.

Yet isn’t the stress of constantly seeking activity and movement bad for our health? Is there a way to find that perfect balance between strolling and dashing through life? Perhaps it’s just as simple as the fact keeping busy avoids thinking about time passing?

I have no idea. But I am not going to feel guilty if I choose to stay at home and watch a movie, read a book or try a new recipe. I think I often forget that no moment of one’s life is ever wasted if we are living it the way we choose. Even if it’s not at seventy miles an hour.

How to Live Without Guilt?

How To Live Without Guilt?

The other day as I was erasing old emails and clearing more room on my iphone memory, I thought about how easy it was just to sweep away the past. With a simple swipe of my finger old emails, phone calls and messages disappeared into the ether to be lost forever in some nether world of clouds. To remain forever somewhere with no permanent way to simply clear out the storage or turn off the whole damn computer.

Suddenly I realized how much better life would be if we could simply swipe left and erase the memories that fill our minds with sad and unresolved messages from the past.

Experts (whoever they are) claim that a major portion of our decisions in life are actually made by our subconscious mind.

In other words, we think we are making our choices, but surprise, surprise we’re not.

That little container of all hurts and negativity from the past has stored away all the memories guaranteed to sabotage even our most diligent efforts to cast off the bad.

As long as that storage memory is the keeper of such power we can only make what we believe are our conscious decisions. But are they? Did we really choose that chocolate ice cream or did the choice come from somewhere deep inside the recesses of our mind. Selected for us from a childhood trauma in second grade when there was only vanilla left, but you wanted the chocolate and now you’re compensating and…

Wow that’s a pretty scary scenario I’d say. It kind of tells me that no choice is ever without some link to the then.

In our memory bank the storage is never full and we can’t find a way to empty out the old clutter and input new and fresh ideas. So even if our attitudes and our thought processes have evolved, the little storage bank in our brain has a strangle hold on our creative minds. Too deep?

Okay let’s make this a whole lot easier for those of us who haven’t had our morning coffee yet, that sucker called the unconscious mind is out to get us and we really have no way to fight the bugger off.

Clear now? Yep, and seems even more scary after our coffee.

Our brains are truly only computers that begin accumulating information when we are born. At least that’s the popular notion. I know there are others that may disagree, but for our purposes I’m going with the computer thing here.

So whatever is inputted into our brains goes immediately to a storage locker titled our subconscious that locks it away and it alone possesses the key.

Thus we simply go through life making choices based on information we believe we can clearly see and know. Wrong, it’s that evil sabotaging sucker up there in our brains, dancing around a fire with a key that gives it control.

So how do we defeat the little bastard? It’s not easy I can tell you as someone who has gone more rounds with my subconscious than Ali or Fraser.

So many times in the past I’ve believed decisions I’d made were perfectly rational and well founded. Think again.

At the end of the day a part of me had reverted back to old patterns I thought had long been forgotten and eliminated from my psyche.

So what the hell can any of us do to change the old and bring only the new forward?

Some experts say we can reprogram our mind through deep meditation or a voice talking to us while we’re sleeping.

My subconscious just laughed. No, I actually heard it daring me to even try.

Wow this is pretty heavy so let’s lighten it up. Disguise it as advice which my you-know-who won’t pay any attention to anyway.

I have some suggestions for eliminating the power our subconscious mind wields over us.

One: eat more chocolate. I believe we’re all aware, especially chocoholics that a giant dose of cocoa beans will completely take our brains into another world. Coat them with a haze rendering them weak and spaced out. Thus, the subconscious will be buried under a sea of Oreo cookie residue and unable to exert any power.

Second: get into a food coma. I highly recommend this be done at Italian restaurants. I have nothing against Asian, Mexican, Greek or any other ethnic offering, but hey let’s remember our history here. A couple of bowls of pasta and a slice of pizza and Brutus was all about the knife in Caesar’s back.

A good Italian food coma does wonders to cloud our brains. Besides even the worst pizza is better than any other food on earth. So while that thing in our heads is sleeping it off we have the power to make our own choices.

Trick it: Yes, that’s what I said. Trick your unconscious mind into thinking it’s making the decision, but use reverse psychology.

For example, a jerk asks you out on a date. He’s the same type of slimeball you’ve always been attracted to until it’s too late. So, this time you say out loud “he’s such a saint.”

Phone a friend and sing his praises about the work he’s done with orphans in Africa and how kind and thoughtful he is. Your saboteur will be listening carefully to this conversation and the very fact he is everything you have never been attracted to will make him extremely desirable to the little evil bully in your head. So if you convince your brain he is perfect, your mind will instantly reject him on all levels and you will saved from yet another bad choice. Brilliant huh?

But why do we have to go to such lengths to trick ourselves into making smart choices? Who instilled us with the bad habits we have embraced?

Damned if I know. Who am I Freud? I mean it doesn’t take much to see if a guy’s a jerk, yet our brains seem to overlook the obvious. Or do they?

Are we aware we are actually making bad decisions? Don’t we know that when we’re on a diet that double chocolate brownies are not allowed, but we stuff them into our mouths anyway?

So why do we give up control to you-know-who, he who shall not be named?

I say it’s because it’s easier than fighting.

Yep, just give in. Then you can just blame that evil little monster in your mind for all your bad choices.

Otherwise, we’d have to blame ourselves and that guilt would force us to make more bad decisions.

Perhaps the subconscious mind is simply a great deal stronger than us, especially as we age. Seriously how would you fare in a tug of war right now without help from Conan the Barbarian?

I’d be mud bound in two seconds.

Your brain has given you a great excuse to make stupid choices. I say accept the gift and be grateful! Go ahead, embrace your subconscious, love the sabotage and shovel that Godiva in with no guilt. After all you’re not responsible. It’s you-know-who.

My Heating Pad Myself

My Heating Pad Myself

There are certain perks to getting older. Senior discounts, the inability to see close up in the mirror and no more pap smears.

However as with everything in life there is that darned old yin and yang thing, and growing older is no different.

What I’ve noticed is how many of my friends have been tripping. And no I’m not talking about LSD or cruises to Europe. I’m referring to standing up straight and walking without landing on the ground.

I’m not sure why it happens and if there is anything to be done to prevent it. I’m saying that only to alleviate the guilt I feel for every time I stupidly fell after failing to look ahead or watch where the hell I was going.

Yes, I suppose many of us should be doing a better job of focusing our eyes, but I don’t think it’s because of talking on our phones or texting.

It seems many of us fall in or near our homes.

Silly things like missing a step, or slipping on the floor, or tripping over an area rug or your dog. Or sadder yet our own feet. Yes, it happens. Then of course there are those dreaded steps.

Even friends who are in what I consider good shape, or as I like to call them the pickleball posse, find themselves sprawled out on a floor wondering what the hell is happening?

After a few falls you are determined to be super careful and you are for a while. That is until slam bam a piece of ice, a lifted sidewalk or a turn of your head at the wrong time. Now boom, you and the cement are sharing a passionate embrace.

If you are really lucky you won’t fall on your fake knee, new hip or break anything necessary. But even if you sprain or bruise something welcome to the ouch, ouch, ouch, I can’t get out of bed bunch.

The next day you find yourself in agony over the moans and screams from every bone in your body and the mental anguish at hating yourself for being such a damn klutz.

Parts of your body hurt you didn’t even fall on. Like sympathy pains for that thigh now turning a bright shade of blue.

So why do people fall and is this restricted to us more mature and sophisticated fallers?

Nope, yet it seems that it is somehow expected as you age.

So many myths about why. Your balance is off as you age, isn’t that why God invented Yoga? Your eyesight isn’t as good, hello Cataract or Lasik surgery. Or maybe your bones are weaker and on and on.

I disagree. And I agree.

When I fell when I was young and believe me I did, it seemed I bounced back sooner. Like one of those bob em-toys you punch and it stands back up for another punch in the face. Nice toy, I just realized there’s something really masochistic about that smiling evil sucker. But I digress.

When you fall past sixty it’s not just the bruises that come out to play, but the achy bones and gigantic ouches with each step.

Some of us who have a large amount of martyr in us choose to hide our latest fall from our children.

Oh yes, we know what we’ll hear. My son would like to encase me in bubble wrap and keep me in the house for as many years as I have left.

My daughter will shake her head and ask, why are you always falling? You need to look where you’re going. And despite my attempts to hide a fall from her one false move when we’re on the phone and I scream ouch and give the whole shebang away.

I have a friend who will cover herself from head to toe with clothing even in the hottest days of summer to hide her bruises from her kids.

So how to cope with all this tripping, falling and bruising.

Ice. I spend a great deal of time with ice and I’m not even a skater.

I have seven ice bags and I have been known to use them all simultaneously.

I think the best thing they could invent would be a giant ice pack that you could just crawl inside of until the bruising goes down.

Then of course many say after the ice should come the heat.

I’m not a doctor and I don’t even play one on TV, but I definitely believe in the heating pad.

If there was one that covered my entire body head to toe, I would wear it constantly. Crawl inside it for hours.

As it is I can’t exist without the heating pad.

It’s funny I remember my mother always lying in bed with the heating pad on some part of her body.

Okay, I’m a little better than that, at least I sit on the couch with it covering me, but now I understand why my mother was addicted.

The minute I pick it up my aching bones start dancing and singing, “Happy Days Are Here Again.”

It’s like a party.

“Hey guys, the heating pad’s here. Put on the music and we’ll dance.”

I swear I can almost hear them sipping champagne and eating little quiches.

It’s like I get happy in an oh-my-goodness-that-feels-so-good kinda way.

My back relaxes and my bruises start to purr.

Damn if I know what that heating pad does, but I know that when you’re past sixty it’s like a best friend.

I come in the house and I run to it.

I can’t wait to plug it in and snuggle underneath. I swear you fall into your old people’s nap at least ten times faster when it’s on.

I have a friend who has already worn out one of those ten-pound hot blankets and is on his second one.

I had one, but I couldn’t lift the darn thing.

If there was a fire, they’d have found me lying underneath it struggling to get out.

But they do feel really good if they don’t crush you to death.

So is falling and self-heating something we all have to look forward to down the line.

That seems to be how it lays out.

I hate falling, yet no matter how careful we are stuff happens.

My friend was in school teaching and a student ran into her and broke her hip.

She was in rehab for one year.

Of course, I love to joke, but falling is no joke, people get seriously injured or worse, yet it seems to be a frequent occurrence these days.

So, I guess all one can do is ice and crawl under the heating pad. Or reach for the bubble wrap coat. Perhaps Ralph Lauren will add a few to his Spring collection.

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