In Training

Aaron is our personal trainer at the gym. He’s an incredibly enthusiastic motivator: personable, knowledgeable, a thorough instructor and outspoken cheerleader.  Today he added a few new moves to our routine, and challenged us to step up the pace while still monitoring our safety as seniors.

I’m hooked. Although we can’t afford to work with him indefinitely, I don’t want to give up his guidance and support! I wish he could always be there, reminding me to straighten that sloppy left arm and pinch those shoulder blades together.  I want to hear his, “…lean into it a little more…that’s great…good work!”

He’s a hired coach, and yet I’ve been thinking how our relationship with him models the potential of relationships in general.  How we do well to draw out the best in each other - to support and strengthen, to applaud baby steps along the way.  Life is a journey toward ongoing growth and change, so we’re all in training.  It’s a privilege to encourage one another along the path.

Knitting Sonnet

Knitting needles,

How do I love thee?

Let me count the ways.

I love thee through

Each knit and purl,

Each throw of yarn,

Each binding on

And binding off.

I love thee with a love

Beyond rush and haste,

Beyond thin patience

And ideal precision.

I love thee simply

For thy inclination

To link stitches:

Partners in beauty.

Perspectives on Communication

The rhythm of communicative exchange has two sides: speaking and listening.  This evening I’m thinking specifically about certain aspects of listening.

A listener often has both rational and emotional reactions to what is spoken, the emotional ones being the most challenging.  I learned today (from an article by a therapist) that “a lot of non-stop talkers actually use their own words to stop themselves from knowing what they are feeling.” They keep talking in order to avoid dealing with emotional responses inspired by the other person’s communication.

I find this very interesting.  It is tempting to think the non-stop talker doesn’t care about the thoughts or opinions of the other person.  However, he jabbers on and on to create his own protective smokescreen to block out too much emotion.

Self-protection is often automatic.  We involuntarily avoid exposure to pain; we try to protect ourselves. And yet the more we try to control what cannot be controlled, the more out-of-control we often feel.  Such seems the case with the non-stop talker who dominates a conversation only to suffer from loneliness (or perhaps self-incrimination) later.

Vulnerability in relationship is what binds us.  Without open sharing in both directions, we only brush each other like solitary ships passing in the night. On the other hand, we become soulfully tethered when give and take is balanced and emotional sabotage is not a threat. 

I am posting these thoughts as a way of imprinting them so I don’t forget.  May I be aware of times when I am tempted to dominate dialogue, and may I cultivate compassion for the non-stop conversationalist who seems unable to listen.

Fish Stalkers

Ice fishing is not my cup of tea.  It’s someone else’s iced tea gone crusty-frozen.

I was barely awake when my husband and his friend - two bear-like grizzlies insulated with thick, padded winter coats and pants - headed out to the ice just before daybreak. These guys have been fishing buddies for 35 years; this would be just another adventure in a very long line of angling escapades. Through the window I watched them tromp across the yard with a lantern, pulling a high-sided sled filled with tools of the trade.  Evidently live minnows would be the bait du jour, and crappie the targeted fish.

Now I’m up and about, although still languishing in a warm bathrobe.  Day has broken, and I just peeked outside to see them standing on the ice in the cove.  With the zoom function in my phone’s camera, I was able to capture the moment for posterity: senior fish stalkers, old men of the sea.

All hail these mighty fish slayers as they conquer unsuspecting prey beneath the glazed lake.

Creative Genius

We gave our 10-year-old grandson a book for Christmas: The Way Things Work. Today we received a one-of-a-kind thank-you note featuring, among other things, a 25-ton anteater (?) being weighed on a mammoth scale as tall as a skyscraper.  

The back of the mailing envelope is just as creative, spotlighting some sort of incredibly alien-looking person-spitting machine with gears that certainly - most certainly - must be eyes.

This is the second time I’ve seen this kind of genius.  This kid truly is his father’s son.