Sailing Lurching into extreme old age, I am reflecting on the navigation of it. I assume "extreme" would be over 80. I haven't hit 80 yet but it winks at me.
I abandoned worry a long time ago. It is useless and pointless and a total energy vampire. I had the realization that none of my worries had materialized and my classic last visitation to worry was about 35 years ago when (a) buying my dream home in Toronto (b) losing the position that was paying for the mortgage (c) going into an almost catatonic state with the definite and certain possibility I was going to lose my home and be jobless, destitute and unemployable. I did not hang a curtain on a window or a picture on a wall as I knew the dream would shatter when my severance pay expired in a few months. I huddled there in desperation and solitude calculating how much money the piano and assorted bits and pieces would sell for. After two weeks of this inertia and terror I had an unexpected phone call from a stranger who had heard about my abilities and offered me a year's contract to help him shut down his large hundred year old family business with everyone happy. At an astonishing fee. I jumped at it. And for six months I had two incomes rolling in my door. And after that enormous life lesson, I've had many challenges but I never revisited the worry pit again.
Life is full of changing circumstances all the time. I was up for a full medical pending this big birthday and having my driver's license renewed. I thought with the blindness in my right eye, there is a risk I will lose it after close to sixty five years of accident free driving. And always loving driving, across Canada so many times, seeing this beautiful country. Having the security and adventure of four wheels sitting outside waiting to take me away to wherever, whenever. But, I thought, there are cabs, there are electric thingies, there is a senior bus that trots around this area. And I didn't worry. My life would adapt. When I passed the medical it was a gift, a bonus, a joy. But I knew I could have adapted peacefully to losing it.
Always have something to look forward to.
This was one of my dad's philosophies on aging. And he was right. I have a black board and write looking forward stuff on it. It's not about achieving the stuff but the journey is made lighter.
Don't give up the joyful things
Music (Schubert - Claudio Arrau at the moment)
Knitting (Just completed one side of a cushion)
I think I have tons more. But that's enough for today.