A Seniors’ Day Out

We’re all in our 70s, about 33 of us, going for a day in a city famous for seafood. We mainly wanted to eat a whole array of seafood, a favourite for this group. We grew up in the same town and went to the same grade school and high school, so there is a camaraderie among us brought about by years of growing up. Now, we are growing old together. Though some of us live in other parts of the world, we try to be home in our village, and when we are around, we get together as much as possible. 

Today, we were off to Roxas City, about three hours from our place in Iloilo. We decided to go early as most of us woke up early anyway. So, at 5 in the morning, we gathered in our town center, and there, two vans provided by two in our group waited for us.

Off we went, and one of the valuable tips I’ve learned is to have a bag of jokes to entertain everyone in the van. You will have so much fun. To energize the group further, bring a collection of old songs. Download it on your phone. They will remember their old days when you play the songs and enjoy singing along with the recording. More stories will come out of their memories. Make sure you have your battery pack. 

When planning this trip, most of the group who had been there before told us of some of the challenges they encountered. These guided us in our choices of restaurants. Knowing that most in our group were diabetic, many brought snacks, so there was enough food and drinks in the van. 

We only planned for lunch but seeing how early we arrived in the city, we proceeded to a restaurant on top of a hill big enough to accommodate us and serve breakfast immediately. We found one attached to the Convention Center. It was raining, and they immediately prepared the table and food for us because they had enough staff. Some staff even carried umbrellas for those in our group who braved the drizzle to take pictures.

The hilltop Cafe Terraza ended up as the perfect place for us. We enjoyed our breakfast and rested a bit while the others went to take pictures. Many started bringing out their pills and randomly sharing stories around the table—a great start to our day.

The restaurant for lunch, Coco Veranda, is on the beach, and you can enjoy watching the waves as you eat when the weather is fine. The weather prevented us from doing this, but it did not diminish our fun in being together and enjoying each other’s company.

Days before we left on this trip, we contacted the restaurant manager of the chosen place and outlined the dishes we wanted to enjoy. Also the time we wanted it ready, so when we arrived, they were prepared for us. After they’d served the food, silence reigned as we delved into the different seafood dishes. We had fun tasting some of our favourites and some unusual dishes. 

The trip is complete with picture taking. We are advancing in age, and a few pass on each year, so we enjoy each other’s company when we can. 

We saw the oldest bell in Pan-ay and went to Banika market, where they sell the best-dried fish. More picture-taking and buying, activities we always relish and do with gusto.  

We all enjoyed the trip, and the group wants to plan another soon.

A Senior’s Memory-A Poem

The tremendous power
Of memory unearth
Life’s incredible wealth
Fill the minds of Seniors

A Senior Reciting Rhodora

I thought of my friend,
Who recited Rhodora
A poem we learned when
In high school

That night my sister and
I searched the internet for all
The classic poems we’ve learned
Through years of literary exposure

Longfellow, Emerson, Gray, Allan Poe
All came to mind
With Shakespeare’s sonnets too
Even Flanders field inserted itself

Words came back
More to my sister than me
She has always been the literary
In the family

And feelings came as memories claimed
It made me wonder why some I remembered
And others I could not
Like the poem Rhodora
Our friend recited

Our minds are tricky,
Playing with our memory
Some things we remember and
Some we forget

Indeed our memory we treasure
As Seniors think they start fading more
But it’s because our memories of yore
Crowd our minds with so much lore.

Revisiting Your Roots

I used to visit my home province, but only sometimes and only for short periods. Thus, I couldn’t explore the changes since I was a child growing up in this place.

Revisiting Your Roots. Copyright: aesta1

This time, I decided to stay on for four months, and after a month, yes, it took me a month to settle down and fully appreciate the experience of being a local again, not just a foreigner visiting another place.

Even inserting back into my family again, knowing the new members and seeing the growth in each one is a bit baffling. Sometimes, it is hard to comprehend how some people can change so much, but they do. The dynamics have changed, too. It is interesting to watch and find out what role I can play, especially in celebrations they have done without me for many years.

It used to be that I was only visiting, and everyone tried to accommodate me, knowing that I would be gone in a week or two. These days, it is different. I am putting down roots again, which shows continuity. I am reestablishing relationships to which I have not given any attention for years, knowing my former friends and relating with them again. I have changed, and they, too, have changed. It is interesting how this plays out.

Some have detached themselves from the group, but many try to be part of the interaction. We visit each other and organize activities to bond once more and refresh our memories of things we used to enjoy. Some have passed, and we hold masses for them lest we forget. It is sad because, at our age, we face our passing daily.

We had our Christmas party this year, and I hosted it, but each one brought food. It started at nine and ended at 5. I thought at first, what are we going to do? Time was even lacking for other things we wanted to do. It’s as if we were in high school once more.

Those who had not attended other previous celebrations enjoyed themselves so much that they promised, from now on, to be in all of the gatherings. They had so much fun that they wanted to experience it again. We forgot ourselves, and we were children in the playground of the past, playing, shoving, dancing, singing, showing our talent, and taunting each other. We were together our whole childhood but lost touch after high school graduation.

The years of building a career and raising families have left our relationships without attention. Only when the kids had grown did we find time to connect again. This connection strengthened when we saw each other at our golden jubilee, 50 years after graduation from high school. Many of us had not seen each other or talked to many.

Strengthening these connections gave us so much joy that we tried to gather whenever there were occasions to celebrate or gather. We always find reasons, of course, especially when some who now live in other countries come home. These were occasions to connect, celebrate, and share whatever we had, even around snacks in the afternoon.

Gathering of friends. Copyright: aesta1

These occasions always lead to reminiscing about our childhood days, what we remembered and what news we received about our classmates and friends. We often learn about the families in our town since childhood. Some information brings joy, some pain, and others, sorrow, but whatever they are, they are always welcome. If the persons are around, they will get congratulated, praised, reprimanded, or sternly talked to, depending on what is shared.

Because we grew up and knew each other’s families, we feel free to react to the sharing as in a family circle. We could be brutal among friends who have grown up together because we are secure in our care for each other. It is such a comfort to be with people one could be one’s self.

Our roots are solid. We belong to the same town knowing the same families. We knew each other’s families and shared our joys, frustrations, and pains. Going back to one’s roots is a very comforting experience. If you still need to do this, start now.

Lessons My Garden Taught Me

Patola with Fruits. Copyright: aesta1

Little did I know that starting this garden would yield not only produce but lessons that I keep learning every day.

I started this garden because I love to putter around a garden early morning with my cup of coffee in one hand and a song in my heart, looking at every plant’s daily changes.

As the garden progressed, things kept changing. The changes are not only in the plant’s growth but also in people directly or indirectly involved in the garden.

I was the only one interested in having this garden. I had no idea I started something several in the family love to be involved in. So, this is the first lesson I learned. At that time, my husband and I were still working and could not take substantial time to be in the garden. Other family members took the lead, and I gave up designing and landscaping my garden.

The first time this happened, I resented it. However, I was realistic enough to know that time was not with me. Other people have the interest, the workforce, and the time.

Because of this, the garden expanded and grew beautifully. Different people used it for their interests, so the garden became a series of beautiful memories. At one time, sunflowers filled it, becoming the setting of celebrations and photo opportunities.

These days, plots of different kinds of vegetables grace it, yielding produce for our consumption and the market. The garden is now earning little to defray its maintenance and development expenses.

Black Beans and Corn. Copyright: aesta1

One of the lessons I have learned is that a garden requires time and presence. In the Tropics, where plants grow or die fast when not watered, you must keep your watch or lose some expensive plants. Until the plants take root, you must give them care.

When the plants start producing, your job is not over. They come in abundance that you can hardly harvest them at their peak. There’s a time when they’re just suitable for cooking. Not too ripe or mature and not too young. The gardeners also told me that with some plants, you couldn’t leave the fruits to mature on the vines as that would stop them from growing new shoots. When the plants are healthy, the produce is so abundant that you can’t eat them all, so you need to share or sell them. I was appalled one day when I spent hours harvesting string beans, and all the vendors paid for it when I sent it to the market was a little less than $2. So two hours or probably more of my day was only worth that much? I was discouraged, but the benefits of eating fresh produce gave me hope and a new resolve.

Squash and Okra. Copyright: aesta1

There is satisfaction in having your garden. Every morning, I watch for new blooms, shoots, or fruits. In the tropics, it is fast to grow native varieties. Aside from eating fresh produce, I get to help others. One of these vendors comes regularly, and she picks the vegetables she would cook and sell for the workers at the irrigation close to us. She has eight kids and a husband who cannot support the family. But this lady wanted all her kids to go to school and earn degrees later. So, she does whatever she can to achieve her dream. She picks up what she wants and gives our gardener a fair price when she comes. Sometimes, she has only so much money, and she would tell us she’ll share more next time. Do I bother? No, I am happy that this person works hard to improve her life and that of her children.

So, we keep investing in the garden, giving us produce and joy. We couldn’t be happier.

Celebrate Change with Anticipation

Anticipation

From the side of your eyes, nothing changed. For others looking at you, the changes are pretty remarkable.


Often, we’re the last ones to understand the impact of change on ourselves because we usually can’t see it.



As your body migrates south, the ultimate destiny being 30-inch ankles, we hope wisdom migrates north, accepting both the losses and the gains.


But in each landmark, our pace slows down a little bit of knowledge and experience and insight make us much more sure and creative.


For a long time, lifetime change is a whole world of trade-offs between the physical and the intellectual and if we celebrate what is going well and what is doing better, each of life’s seasons becomes enjoyable.


Twenty years ago, we could visit a medieval city and one day feel we’ve given it a review. Today, we’re lucky if we can get out of the main square in a day. We’d not really see more, but everything we see has much more meaning, kickstarts more thoughts and ideas, and reaches sideways to hold hands with many memories.


What we’re looking at hasn’t changed, but what we bring to the viewing has changed remarkably. Thoughtfulness replaced speed, and variety has changed, linking up memory chains.



So as we look at lifestyle change, the focus is not on deterioration and loss. Its expansion of capacities and gain new layers of experience in everything we see and do.


The fun quotient is either stable or goes up if we understand that sprinting is not the only way of moving through life. So, in personal appearance, we’ve come to move a little further up the index. In food, clarity of taste and presentation moves up the ladder past bulk and portability. In opinions, balance becomes more evident. In travel, comfort takes precedence over ticking boxes.



Research becomes as essential as a surprise—the search for meaning moves ahead of the need for new jolts of experience.


Life becomes much more satisfying and engaging as the constant need for fireworks abates. Marriage, the first children, college, their marriage, jobs, and grandchildren cause massive lifestyle changes. The anticipation of these events must always outweigh any sense of loss if we want to grow with the years.

Losing Is Part of Living

I lost an article I worked on for hours and am distraught. I felt inspired to write that article. I was happy about it, but it got lost in the process of posting it. I got angry at myself. I had only my stupidity to blame. Or my ignorance or carelessness.

Trillium. Copyright: aesta1

I took time out to escape the state I was in when I lost it. Many tries at retrieving it frustrated me that the only way left for me was to give it up, let it go, and start anew.

As I relaxed more, I reflected on it. Losing is so much a part of our lives. It happens almost every day. We lose an object we like, our pet dies, or someone takes our plant. The worst is when a loved one passes on to another life. It leaves us angry, disappointed, afraid, or empty. 

I sat down again to write, hoping to recapture the article. I know this is only my way of dealing with the unfortunate situation, but it will not return. I must let go and keep living and creating something new and different. Instead of moping and thinking of the lost one, I focused on creating something new. Yet, the loss kept coming back. The feeling of anger is still there. The disappointment prevents me from thinking. I knew I had to give it time to let it go. It is gone. It is not gone to me, though. 

Losing is a daily occurrence. I thought over 70 years that I would be a pro at this pattern of accepting and letting go. No, every event is new. Every event makes me go through the process once more. Is there ever an end to this. Will I ever grow muscles to let go when I lose someone or something quickly? 

People tell me to keep myself busy. I’m trying to do that, but the struggle between the loss and the new creation gives me a headache. It continues to play in my mind. Ah, the mind. It refuses to let go. 

The only way is for me to quiet my mind down. I can’t fight it. I can only allow its unfolding process or go beyond it. I know I am not my mind, Nor am I my body. I am not the things I lost. No matter how precious they are, they are not me. They are their own. I need to set them free so that they can be. I am my being, and letting them go, allows me to be.

It is this being that I need to be in touch with, to be in its core, so I don’t get lost when I lose things. I know this truth, but each loss brings it back for me to understand it fully. Each day, I need to remember that losing is part of life.

I can watch the unfolding of things, including the loss, and let it be. Being in Me is an anchor. I am. 

Lessons I’ve Learned From the Loss of A Loved One

Well, what says you? I have been retired for some years now and so are my friends. Not only that, many in my circle have now passed on—a staggering reality for many Seniors. 

Loss of a Loved One
Loss of a Loved One

My husband passed away three years ago, and only today, another in our high school class more than 50 years ago also died. 

Death is so much a part of life. More so in our senior years. The earlier we accept this reality, the better will be our appreciation when it takes place in our lives.

We all dread it, I understand. But, at one time or another, someone who is so much a part of our life passes on. The pain and the loss are something you don’t want to wish on, even your worst enemy. 

How do you go through this? How do you manage? When, even amid fun, the memory of the loved one who passed on occupies your thoughts? How do you forget? 

How do you hold the tears that, at any moment, pour out? How can you enjoy anything when your thoughts often return to not being there?

Loss can be debilitating. It can ground you in misery, fear, and loneliness. Even with supportive family and friends, it is not like having your loved one there.

Here are some lessons I’ve learned:

  1. I realized how valuable companionship is, to have someone to laugh with, express your fears, foresee your reaction and smile at it understandably, hold your hand when the movie scares you, or discuss the often perplexing events in today’s world. 
  2. I have to learn to do many things on my own. Eating out alone in a restaurant gives me a bit of discomfort. Or going to a movie or a show on my own. There’s no one to whisper some comments to or share your delight over a dish or a performance.
  3. I don’t enjoy long drives alone. When my husband was around, our long drives were moments of getting to know things in our past, childhood, or thoughts about many things. The sharing somehow becomes more intimate and genuine. Listening to the radio now doesn’t cut it.
  4. I don’t enjoy socializing on my own. It’s like half is missing. My husband was very gregarious and never wanting for words and stories. I, on the other hand, would prefer only to listen. Now, I have to talk more. Maybe, this is not so bad after all.
  5. It’s always fun to have someone around you to harass, laugh with, cry on, love, and be loved. No matter how much you search for a replacement, it is not the same. Mourn your loss. It is important to do this. However, you have to move on and look for ways to live life after your loss. It is not the end. It is the beginning of something different, fascinating and satisfying when you allow yourself to experience it.

A friend told me that those who died are still with us, and I like this. I talk to my husband all the time. When driving, I ask him to help me navigate the traffic, make it easy to merge on the highway, and don’t forget to close the gas cover or leave my credit card or wallet on the pump.

I see friends in other countries. At least I have company in seeing places and enjoying restaurants in those cities. I see friends where I live. 

I have learned to be close to family, travel with them once in a while, visit them, and hang out with them. As was the case before, I have come to appreciate them more as I relate with them directly and not through my husband. 

I have worked on my fears and my tendency to depend on someone. I learn to do things like driving long distances, fixing things, taking care of things on my own, and dealing with loneliness. 

Each one of us deals with loss in a different way. 

But I have many friends who have lived alone because they have not married, divorced, or widowed. I’ve learned how to take things in stride from them and not let matters overwhelm me. They kept telling me that they’d done it for many years. Why am I complaining? Somehow, this pushes me to do the things I dread doing.

After three years, I feel I’m getting into the rhythm of living alone. As much as the first day it happened, I am still my husband, but I can cope with life alone.

I found how valuable a good relationship with our families and friends is. It’s strong support as I deal with my loss. I don’t think I would have managed if not for these relationships.

What Is Your Favourite Childhood Memory

How many years ago was that? I’ll try if I remember anything as I can hardly remember where I placed my glasses a minute ago.

Backyard

Friends had been sharing the moments they enjoyed so much when they were children. Mind you, that was a different environment from where we are today.

Then, we felt safe in our neighborhood. We played in the streets. We walked to school unaccompanied, and after school, we played with friends. Primarily, our parents had no clue where we were. Most parents then had only one rule: to be home before dark.

When we celebrated our golden jubilee in our old high school, which means 50 years after graduation, most of our friends remembered best our traversing the path home in the rain, carrying our slippers for fear that they might break we’ll get a good one from our mothers.

We slid in the mud, pushing one another in great delight. We couldn’t think of any bullies among us. If a hint comes out, we will get it from our parents. This fear was more than enough to keep us within the line.

We had close friends, but we played with almost anyone. Even the older kids never bullied us. They taught us many things, or some ignored us. As the bell rings, signaling the end of classes, the streets stream with kids in uniforms as classrooms empty in various directions.

After school is the best time of the day for most of us. There was still time to play before we had to go home to do our chores.

We hardly had toys at home, so we stayed in the streets with our friends. We thought of games to play, stories to tell, fruit trees to climb, and infrequently go home with a friend to eat simple left-overs at their house, which often meant cold rice and dried fish. But thinking about it now, we salivate as if we were in front of a hugely delicious feast.

The games we played consisted mainly of using stones, old cans, or bottles. Whatever we can find around. We marked the perimeters on the ground with sticks. Oh, we played with sticks, too. We had plenty of fun. But when we showed how we played these games to our children and grandchildren, they smirked at us with their bored faces.

On weekends, we often went for exploration. This activity was best immediately aftermath a storm. We all head to the river. The river in our tiny town became a beehive of activity. We gathered firewood, built temporary wells showing these off to each other, swam, floated in the water, and helped our family with washing clothes.

Some of our friends were excellent climbers. A few had many relatives whose trees we could peruse with ripe fruits. I remember always going out with a friend to climb star apple trees. I have to confess that I could not climb. It scared me stiff. So, I would spread my skirt around my waist and catch the ripe fruits I could not capture well. My friends never for an instant laughed at this or belittled me. They worked around my handicap and found things I could do. Yes, those were the days when bullying was not a trend yet.

After more than fifty years after our high school graduation, this memory is often the most remembered and shared. We must have enjoyed so much our simple lives then. We never blamed our parents that they deprived us or that they never had time for us. We were content then and happy now about our life then.

I wish we had pictures of those days, but unhappily with the absence of cameras and cellphones, we could not document so much of our fun. It’s etched thoroughly in our minds, and though over 70, we could still talk about it as if it only happened yesterday.

We accept that times have changed now, and kids live in a different context with its challenges. We understand that. Yet, we sometimes wish life was still as simple as our childhood.

Our grandkids live in a different context. They have to deal with other challenges, and only if we enter into their world will we be able to help them. Like us, they will cherish their memories just as much as we do ours.

I hope I have awakened a cherished childhood memory you had. Do share it.

A Walk in the Woods

It’s Spring—time to be at the cottage. When I arrived, the leaves were not out yet. The trees were bare, and I could see much more.

Wild Flowers in the Woods

Because the plants growing underneath these trees are getting more sun, they’ve come to open themselves to the rays of the mighty sun and open themselves in beautiful blooms carpeting the woods with its flowers. It’s lovely to see these blooms coming out of the rotting leaves. Life is back. It is in color.

Lily of the Valley

This year, there are many surprises. One of the best is the Lily of the Valley. I haven’t seen it for years, but this year, it surprised me. I thought I was dreaming, but it was there with its fragrant tiny flowers.

But my favorite is always the trillium. In the early Spring, it fills the woods with white flowers. Then, after pollination, they turn to mauve. There’s the occasional mix of deep purple and yellow.

The violets are out, too. Mixed with the bright dandelions, it’s a field to admire.

These flowers bloom whether we are there or not to admire them. It just is—Nature’s prime lesson at this time. This being is what we can model in our lives as seniors. Wilting and dropping are parts of life. We celebrate it as we do the rising and the blooming.

Observing Nature with its changes every season, I think of the seasons in our lives. We go through stages, and when this happens, we resist with force and try all ways to alter them. Instead, Nature shows us how to be with the changes and live through them. Be excited about them.

Living through these changes is not at all a passive stance. It is a complete acceptance of what is happening and living it thoroughly, just as we delight to watch what will spring out every season and where one’s favorite flower will show itself this year.

Every year added to our age is something we need to celebrate. It always brings with it something new, something different. It expands our awareness of our being and how wonderfully made we are.

Today, for example, I found out I can move my left chest and right chest, my left hip, and my right hip, and as I breathe into them, I give them more energy. I am discovering more of my body as it calls my attention with its aches and pains.

Being old is not that bad. At times, we only focus on the deterioration of our bodies. We miss listening to the wisdom our bodies have learned in all its years of existence.

As I walk through the woods and look up at the trees, I see the new leaves sprouted. I thought to myself, and they’re all new. I thought of how they proudly displayed their beautiful colors in the Fall, and off they went when the winds blew.

As we age, we think of our prime days when we were vigorous, highly productive, and recognized. When we retire, we look with envy at the accomplishments of the younger ones and sometimes put them down. We talk of the good old days, much better than they have now.

Is this what we have learned from those many years? Is this what we can offer the younger generation? There must be a wiser way.

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Why a Cup of Coffee in Bed Is Very Satisfying

Nothing urgent is out there calling you to get out of bed. Is there? The perk of being a senior.
First Coffee Cup

So, in the morning, I look forward to having my cup of coffee. I have had my coffee in bed these days, and I realized how enjoyable it is. I used to get up, get ready for work and drive to the office, waiting to get a coffee there. It perks me up for work.

However, now that there is no work to hurry to, I can enjoy my cup of coffee leisurely, every sip a delight.

It makes me feel I have nothing else to do, only enjoy being with myself, essential.

I had no idea of its joyous potential until recently, when the lockdown made me live with myself and no one else. I talk to myself. I only see myself, so I began to see myself consciously. I started to know it, explore its inner realities, and what a surprise it is.

The self has a tremendous inner world waiting to be known. I started exploring, and I delved into its dark side. I felt its fears, insecurities, deficiencies, sorrows, anxieties, and secrets. It astounded me that I connected to it, got to know it, and brought it to light.

As I dug deeper, I found my inner self beneath these, a self full of light, beauty, and capable of creating. I started connecting to this self, and my life changed. Could this be real?

My life fills with magic as I welcome the new unfolding, the unknown getting known each day. A different pattern unfolds before me, something I create not with the usual effort of the previous self but with the ease of connecting to power beyond oneself.

Now, I love these moments of being with myself and connecting its power to its depth to its unending capacity. I realize I am not seeking my mission in life which for years I agonize over. I strive for myself, the self that is my gift to the world. It’s myself as it continues in its creative unfolding. Here I am, universe. I am the gift, the mission, the calling. I am as I become and connect to the universe.

I had for years felt the longing for home, not the physical house, and for years I moved from country to country, and it kept nagging at me. I did not understand it, so I ignored it, but it stayed on.

Recently, I have come home with time for myself and alone with myself. To a world right there inside of me and yet connected to all. I have come home.

I now realize I have one call, one mission, to be. To be the fully developed being that I am. As I do this, I become more connected to the world because as I become one with myself, I become one with the world. Oneness. No more division. Wholeness.

So one more coffee in bed. One more time to be me.