A Few Things I Learned in my 69th Year

Dear friends,

I have been in a steep learning curve this year in ways that have confounded, delighted and amazed me. Having lived nearly 70 years, I laugh in amazement at the things I discover nearly every day, especially as it relates to nature, which is so complex and beautiful that it explodes the imagination. I have also experimented with writing poetry which I’m finding is one way of organizing thoughts in my mind and keeping important learnings safe. And I have found that sometimes what needs to be said can only be said with poetry.  And as I offer this out in the world, I feel a little nervous and excited.

A Few Things I Learned in my 69th Year

To live in a community of people I love and trust is necessary.

Telling the truth, especially when someone else would prefer I be silent, is POWER!

I do not have to work every day to matter…been learning this one for years.

I do have to work sometimes because I need to contribute in the ways I do. The work I do makes me more alive!

How to cut a lime for maximum juice—from top to bottom to the side of the midline.

Parts of me really want to run the world (especially my family) even though other parts of me know this is a very bad idea. Also not a new learning, but it went much deeper this year.

Movement and vibration is life!

Meandering around the farm is one of my favorite meditations.

I learned how to support myself when I am pleasuring my husband. I am a restorative yoga teacher after all!

Hazelnut trees have miniscule red flowers in the early spring that look like tiny sea creatures.

I love watching the various migrating ducks that return to the pond in the spring.

A boa constrictor’s babies are born inside her where they grow a bit more before coming out.

Oak trees can support the life cycle of at least 557 caterpillars. This is important if you love birds because it takes about 6,000 to 9,000 caterpillars in a season just to raise one brood of five chickadees.

There are over 400 native bees in Ohio.

My husband still looks good to me.

All butterflies are moths but not all moths are butterflies.

I can’t walk on the beach as far as I want to and I’m afraid of the possibility of not being able to walk.

I’m capable of knitting half a blanket and then ripping it out because of a fatal mistake. I’m also capable of ignoring some knitting mistakes and letting them be part of the beauty.

My Kitchenaid grain grinder attachment was no match for the indigenous blue corn that Kevin grew last summer. The corn was unbelievably delicious and the Kitchenaid died. We also learned nixtamalization—how to cook the whole dried corn kernels with wood ashes to make masa.

I have forgotten big pieces of my life. I have no memory of some very traumatic times. I learned I can still be with these parts of myself and help them integrate. We are meant to heal.

I will never forget my friends and family who are no longer physically alive. They live here in my heart.

Healing comes in many different ways, and with lots of helpers.

I love the feeling of making peace with someone who I have been at war with.

I have many conditioned patterns I am not aware of. Becoming more aware of them is often shocking and very painful………recalculating……recalculating…..

There are more than 100 native bat species in Costa Rica.

The eyeballs of bees have hairs all over them to keep them free of pollen as they dive into flowers.

I learned that the full cycle of the moon is 18.6 years. Indigenous people here in Ohio knew that at least 2000 years ago.

And, I learned that I can write a poem if I want to.