imagination

Conversation With…An Older, Wiser Question Mark…about losing momentum while growing older.

/ overthehillontheyellowbrickroad / 103 Comments

Though I’m still traveling Over the Hill on the Yellow Brick road, I haven’t written much lately because I’ve been thinking. Up to this point, I’ve mustered up positive energy while growing older…but suddenly and unexpectedly, it has come to a halt. What can I do? I was told I’d have a life changing experience if I spoke to the Older, Wiser Question Mark. I found it sitting by itself in the middle of nowhere and I started a conversation…

question mark

Hey Question Mark, I’ve got a question. Why have I suddenly lost momentum? Why are the freeing feelings I’ve had during this phase of life no longer there?

OLD QUESTION MARK: I don’t know.

Okay. Maybe I should be asking this a little differently. Is it possible that I’ve reached a certain satisfying point during the aging process and I’ve expressed everything I have to say about it? Now I need to talk about a different aspect of it? Do I need a new perspective and a different way to creatively express my feelings?

OLD QUESTION MARK:  I don’t know.

This feels like a bad therapy session. Listen to me! How can I pull myself out of this rut and find a new direction?

OLD QUESTION MARK: I wish I knew.

Okay. I get it. You’re a question mark. You’re never going to give me a straight answer. Right?

OLD QUESTION MARK: What do you think?

What do I think?  I think I’m at the end of my rope! I’m totally and completely frustrated! I need help!  How do I channel my older energy when it’s suddenly just sitting there?????   I mean, here’s something I’ve learned in the past year. I see my  older body can still heal itself at this moment, so I can push it a little harder to keep it healthy.  But NOW, how do I go about it? Do I take private yoga classes for overly sensitive, paranoid Baby Boomers? Do I  work with a trainer and lift one pound weights for six years until I’m brave enough to lift two pound weights?

OLD QUESTION MARK: I wish I could tell you.

I wish you could tell me, too! Because here’s another thing I’ve learned in the past year that’s making me feel stuck.  Sometimes I have random aches and pains for no reason.  Okay, fine.  I finally accept that. But NOW I  need to know how to keep my head when my body does weird stuff. How do I remind myself it’s the way my body works at this point in life and those feelings will come and go?

OLD QUESTION MARK: I–

Don’t say it!  And another thing! How do I move forward creatively when I’ve already said what I have to say about older age? Shall I call old colleagues and network? Do I reach out to companies with my ideas and test the water? You know? Just ask questions about what they’re looking for and see if my ideas are in sync with theirs?

OLD QUESTION MARK: If I respond, you’ll just get mad.

Hey listen…you might be shocked, but I’m actually getting something out of this conversation. I’m feeling inner strength emerging. I’m starting to realize it’s not what everyone else thinks at this time in life, it’s more about what I think and being very specific about what’s right for ME. And if I don’t have the answers right now, asking questions is a good way to start the process. I think that’s what I’m supposed to be getting out of this conversation. Am I right?

OLD QUESTION MARK: What do you think?

Copyrightoverthehillontheyellowbrickroad2018

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What do  YOU think?

 

 

Conversation With…A Dried Flower…about the parts of ourselves that die.

/ overthehillontheyellowbrickroad / 65 Comments

Traveling Over the Hill on the Yellow Brick Road, I came to a fork in the road.  The path that led to the left had a powerful, bright light at the end. The path on the right led to TJ Maxx. My favorite clothing store. Which was the correct way to go?! I noticed a dried flower floating toward the bright light. Actually, it was a beautiful, dried rose.  I asked her opinion…

dried flower

Excuse me! Dried flower?  Do you know which way to go?

DRIED FLOWER: It’s a matter of opinion.  I’m surprised you’re talking to me.

Why?

DRIED FLOWER: Because I’m dead.

No problem. I’ve always wanted to talk to someone dead.

DRIED FLOWER: Okay. Your choice. So, what do you want to know?

How do you know you’re dead?

DRIED FLOWER: I Googled it. The definition of death is, “the cessation of all vital functions.” Since I don’t have to make sure I have water or sunlight anymore to keep going or growing, it sounds like the right diagnosis.

How does it feel to be dead?

DRIED FLOWER: Kind of freeing in a way. I can let go of stress and move on. But this is crazy. I’m sure you can’t relate.

In some ways I can. I mean, even though I’m alive, some parts of me have passed on.

DRIED FLOWER: What are you talking about?

Well, I used to have brown hair. Now it’s gray. I’ll never have brown hair again. That phase within my body has died. Passed on.

DRIED FLOWER: Interesting. What else?

I used to menstruate, but that part of my system has shut down. Died. I’ll never get my period again. And there’s more. There are emotional deaths.

DRIED FLOWER: Like what?

Well, I remember when I was a teenager, one summer I went to sleep away camp. I was obsessed with the boys and having a boyfriend. There was a newness, a crispness, a freshness about the anticipation of that experience. I can’t really describe it, but it was so exciting. Even if I tried to go back to that phase of life, I’d experience it differently because I’d bring wisdom and perspective to it now. That phase of my life has passed on. I’ll never feel quite that way again.

DRIED FLOWER: Hmmm…

But then, there are other emotional phases I’m happy have died. Like, for years I used to be terrified of thunderstorms. If thunderstorms were in the weather forecast, I’d hide in a bathroom with no windows while the storms passed through. But then! When my son was born, I suddenly wasn’t afraid of thunderstorms anymore. Out of nowhere.

DRIED FLOWER: Maybe you realized you had bigger things to worry about.

Maybe. Now I actually love thunderstorms.

DRIED FLOWER: That’s nice.

So you know? Maybe life and death aren’t black and white. Maybe deaths are just series of cycles that move on to new cycles…even during life. I mean, look at you. You’re dead, but you’re an elegant, rust color. You’re very beautiful.

DRIED FLOWER: Thanks, but I gotta go now. I’m feeling pulled toward the  bright light.  Want to come?

No thanks. I’m going shopping.

DRIED FLOWER: What’s so enticing about TJ Maxx?

When you go in, you have to wade through a lot of stuff to find something you really like. You might find something, you might not. But if you do, it’s the greatest feeling, and it’s probably on sale so it’s within your reach.

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With that, I took a few steps toward the store. I turned around to say good-bye to the dried flower, but she was gone.

Copyrightoverthehillontheyellowbrickroad2018

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Are there parts of you that have died?

Conversation With…Mother of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer…about empty nester worrying

/ overthehillontheyellowbrickroad / 54 Comments

Over the Hill on the Yellow Brick Road, I came to a huge building known as “The Worriers’ Warehouse.” In my older age, I worry more than ever. So I went inside and immediately noticed an older reindeer nervously biting her hooves. It was easy to start a conversation:

R 2

 

Hey Reindeer, what are you worried about?

RUDOLPH’S MOM: My son Rudolph.

Wait. Are you telling me you’re Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’s mother?

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Yes. And I’m constantly refilling my Valium prescription.

Why? What could you possibly be worried about? He’s Santa’s personal assistant! You raised this heroic, caring reindeer who pulls a sleigh filled with presents to children all over the world.

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Christmas Eve makes me crazy for the entire year. It takes me 364 days to recover from it.

Why?

RUDOLPH’S MOM: How would you like it if your son flew across the sky all night lugging a five billion ton sleigh filled with gifts? What’s holding him up there anyway?

Magic?

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Not the most reassuring concept for a mother. What if he makes a crash landing?

I never thought of that—

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Or if he doesn’t crash, what about his physical health? He’s dragging a sleigh full of gifts for kids all over the world with just a few other reindeer. He could pull his back out.

I see your point.

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Not to mention, my Rudolph could pass out from exhaustion! Thirst! Hunger! It’s a busy night! No breaks! Very high pressure! And I know him! He’ll never say no!

Another point well taken.

RUDOLPH’S MOM: And what if Rudolph has to fly through a blizzard? Or a tornado? Or a severe thunderstorm? Who knows how high those reindeer go? My son could be hit by a meteor! Or slam into the moon! He could—

All this makes complete sense, but you’re not alone. I worry about all kinds of things with my adult kids, too.

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Like what?

Bad relationships, lack of relationships, driving at night, driving too fast, driving when the sun is rising and blocking vision, driving when the sun is setting and blocking vision, traveling in planes, buses, trains, taxis, living on pizza, needing help when there’s no one around–

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Okay, okay. We’re on the same worrying page.

But with all that, I also think we’re giving our kids one big, giant, great gift.

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Oh good. Because I never know what to get Rudolph for Christmas. What’s the gift?

The gift of freedom. That way, our adult children can DO all the things we worry about. They have a chance to figure out where they belong in the world. When we don’t call or text them every five seconds or stalk them on Facebook, we’re letting them go. It’s a gift. Even though it kills us inside.

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Well in that case…why can’t we just say to ourselves we raised mature, intelligent beings who can take care of themselves and make good choices? What if I stopped worrying about my millennial reindeer so much?

What if I stopped worrying about my adult kids so much?

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Would something be missing from our relationships with our children?

Yes. Our connection.

RUDOLPH’S MOM: Are you sure about that?

No. But I worry about it.

Copyrightoverthehillontheyellowbrickroad2018

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How do you control the amount you worry about those you care about? (This includes pets.)

Conversation With…An Older Imagination…Dealing with what’s imaginary as we age.

/ overthehillontheyellowbrickroad / 79 Comments

Over the Hill on the Yellow Brick Road, I came to a glob of mist with eyeballs. When I asked who it was, it answered, “I’m an imagination. An older one.” I absolutely had to start a conversation.

imagination

Hey Older Imagination, I’m glad I met you because I’ve always had trouble balancing the good and bad sides of my imagination. As I grow older, I find it’s even harder. Maybe you can help me.

IMAGINATION: I doubt it. Though I’m older, I still have very little self-control. But I do see the good side of your imagination. I mean, right now you have a ton of imaginary friends.

What? What are you talking about?

IMAGINATION: Everyone who lives here, “Over the Hill on the Yellow Brick Road,” is imaginary. They come from inside your head.

I never thought of it that way. I guess they blossomed from my imagination, and then took on lives of their own.

IMAGINATION: Is that when the bad side of your imagination comes out?

Nope. It’s still the good side. Because talking with everyone here has led to conversations about being an empty nester, feeling fragile as I grow older, not knowing what to wear as I age, and all that stuff. Talking about those things helps me get through this phase of life.

IMAGINATION: And what happens next? The dark side of your imagination creeps in?

No. The conversations about growing older actually led to my book “Over the Hill on the Yellow Brick Road.” I’m really proud of it.

IMAGINATION: Phew! So I guess there really is no bad side of your imagination!

Yes there is. As I get older, if I feel a particular pain I don’t recognize or I feel anxious about my age, my imagination makes it much worse. It exaggerates the bad feelings. Makes them run wild.   

IMAGINATION: Guilty as charged. But knowing my limits after all these years…might there be another way to relieve your pain and anxiety as you grow older?

Well…I can pray more. Like, I pray my children, who are not always near me anymore, will be safe and well. It helps…unless, of course, God is really just another form of an imaginary friend.

IMAGINATION: I see the way the good and bad sides of your imagination work together.

Drives me nuts.

IMAGINATION: I’ve gotta stop talking now. If I don’t, I’ll start coming up with really weird ideas and we’ll both freak out. This conversation is becoming overwhelming for me.

Me too. It’s giving me a stomach ache. Or… am I imagining it?

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Copyrightoverthehillontheyellowbrickroad2018

How do you stop your imagination from making life crazier in older age?