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Writing means different things to different people and at this point in my life, staying in great shape in every sense of the word is a greater challenge!
WHAT’S WRITING ALL ABOUT, ANYWAY?
What’s writing all about, anyway? Is it a burning need to express oneself and share our thoughts hoping to influence others and get approval? Is it cathartic? Is it simply something to do with our time? Is it a skill to be developed – and, ideally – turned into a money-making vehicle? So many reasons… just as many as the people who engage in this incredibly wonderful activity.
I can only speak for myself, especially at this time in my life which some might consider the “autumn time” or Golden years and I, personally say “Pooh” to both IF these descriptions refer to the usual negative “old”, washed up business and all the negativity that follows. Not me. I LOVE ageing for the wisdom it brings with getting older – an activity in which we begin to engage the very moment we are born.
But I digress… forgive me!
My point about my age (75.8) as it relates to writing is that my life is soooo full these days (pandemic or not) that I don’t have enough hours in the day to do all that I wish – short of any housework (I’m no domestic Goddess, although I like a clean and organized place. But no Felix here (The Odd Couple).
I shall try to explain…
I started writing when I was five(5) years old with a poem to my mother. I remember how pleased she was and how she bragged about it and showed it to everyone she knew. I always remembered that scene but not much writing after that, although, knowing myself, I must have continued – in some fashion or other – although, being a Tomboy with four(4) brothers, I preferred to spend time playing sports with them or being “one of the boys,” even dressing and looking like one because I really enjoyed their fun, adventuresome, fearless life – and the sports, the exercise, the endorphins!
Not much has changed…I’m still that kid, working out countless hours daily (in my home gym) doing Yoga, Pilates, Tai Chix, Xigong, weights, bands – anything and everything I can think of to feel that delicious, spiritual connection between my brain and muscles – for exercise, to me (like golf!) is one, long, silent prayer. Exercise is so very spiritual, soothing and just plain Heavenly!
At this moment, while I’m sitting at the computer I’m thinking of my long, daily walk after my workout and keep dreaming of my new rollerblading skates once my knees are super-strengthened with the help of my new physical therapist because my favorite knee was acting up. A new physical challenge; I love it!
And, yes, so as to not waste time, I’ve steamed my face and have an egg/avocado mask on my face to tighten my beautiful skin and make it glow after dunking in in ice cubes. Seventy-five-point-eight, you say?
According to my doctors, healthwise I am considered a woman in her 50’s and look much younger because of my lifestyle (CA girl, here) of superior nutrition, self-care and, most importantly, exercise.
Writing requires me to sit and my touch would spread - and that’s a no-no. I’d rather do my squats and take the stairs to firm those glutes; it’s much more challenging.
If I sat at the PC to write each day (I’m very disciplined), I’d never get up. My daily hour-long meditation, affirmations, spiritual readings and daily listening to my positive The Secret CD’s would go by the wayside – and these are the things that have made me who I am. What about the notes I write to friends, using beautiful, old-fashioned cards sent my snail mail just to stay in touch? What about all the clippings out of my daily-read magazines that I send out with a lovely note? Ah, and what about my books and daily reading (I’m presently re-reading “War and Peace” which I re-read yearly and am getting bummed that I have only 300 more pages to go! So, a speed reader, I will attempt to slow down…
And, so you see, writing to me is not exactly – well, a challenge. Not when I write the way I do, no longer sweating the corporate need to draft/draft/draft/edit/edit, blah, blah. I no longer care; I’m just having fun.
And, yes, I must admit that I am incredibly – incredibly – grateful for this gift and skill. So much so that when I was to enter graduate school at UCLA my professors wanted to recommend/sponsor me for Oxford (bless’em!) because Oxford was ready to begin building up their female population. I passed on the opportunity because I was “in love” and my fiancé gave me an ultimatum: me or Oxford! I never told my parents about the opportunity and my professors (sorry, Prof. Bates!) never knew my parents were unaware – and disappointed.
I never beat myself up for that and didn’t give it much thought: I was young, had a lot going and simply look back on it as “not meant to be.” To tell the truth, I never thought about it until President Clinton came along and Oxford came up. Even then…
But what I have failed to mention is that when my professors asked if I continued writing and specifically a book, I told them I was not interested. My reason? My ego did not require others’ approval; I knew I had a gift, was a good writer and that was good enough. Still is. And, that is why the writer whom I admire the most is J.D. Salinger (“Catcher In the Rye”). After his huge, initial success, he refused to promote his book and became a hermit, happy knowing that all that mattered was that he knew he was a good writer… He was a Buddhist.
And, so, having spent all this time jotting down my thoughts, I’ve got to up and peel this egg/avocado mask off my face and get down to the really challenging stuff – exercising.
Did I share that I just got a Bosu ball to do advanced balance exercises for my rollerblading and winter ice skating in our beloved Frog Pond in Boston?
My touch feels as though it’s spread in the last hour or so…
Can’t have that!
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After being terribly injured in surgery when I was 20, I changed my diet and make sure that I exercised the muscles I had left. Through mere spinal cord neuron aging I have lost the ability to walk after 30 years of passing for near-normal and now have 28 years with my tush firmly anchored to my electric wheelchair with little ability to exercise, except my mind and a machine that pedals my legs and arms and about 15 mph in my kitchen overlooking my deck, flowers, birds, insects, geckos and animals.
I have three years on you and find the last three to be some of the hardest. But I am the oldest quadriplegic I know and still healthy.
I first discovered Oxford from that good old boy country singer, football quarterback, Chris Kristofferson. But I did get a fellowship to Stanford right at the Summer of Love, making my studies not as dedicated as I would have liked. I too, spent my career writing for others and, while I started the book of my hitchhiking fellow travelers in 1971, I didn't start writing books until my autobiography in 1992 that I didn't finish until 2014.
I write for the pure pleasure of writing and storytelling. It enriches my otherwise ratherRoutine existence.
Ron