My Slow Lone-March To The Grey Depot …

[Old_Dame]

As I enter this new juncture, and stage of my life, I feel disinclined to hold at bay, hinder, or redirect the natural easy flow and soft tempo of my deregulated, daily life, and lifestyle.

Currently free, untethered, to secular demands, or care taking responsibilities toward loved ones; I possess sole obligation unto myself.

As daunting as it often feels, I recognize that this particular senior-time is perhaps the largest, most significant life altering moment in my entire lifetime; as I move forward to face and reconcile my mortality.

Other than moral responsibility I embrace towards humanity in general, the wellbeing, and wellness of my eternal growth and how I proceed henceforth is the solitary calling I heed.

In knowing this, I’ve made a conscious effort to embrace quality of goodness and all that it entails in the quiet forefront of my life, and within the softer intimate offshoot hours behind closed doors.

For me, the pursuit of decency and gentility is a lifestyle, and gift, I choose to give myself.

I feel it’s a worthy present that compliments the essence of who I am, best; as it honors and reflects all I value and wish ardently for others as well.

So, as I begin my slow lone-march towards the grey depot, I’m warmly reminded here, and now, in this heartfelt community, that all of us travel in unique explicit fashion.

The array of meaningful reflections, and heartfelt moments shared in this gentle haven, are dignified validation to the fact that it is possible to travel together, when traveling alone.

 

[Old_Dame]

Walking The Lone Grey Path


In many respects, the aging process seem to mirror walking a spiritual path. Both journeys are precarious, challenging, and often lonely; because they’re passages that can’t be followed, and one’s we must walk alone.

Similarly, each path meanders towards a larger path, that require fortitude, and emotional honesty to successfully mitigate and navigate the challenging unyielding reflective path that eventually accompanies physical impairment, and suffering.

One of the more interesting subject I’ve enjoyed exploring since joining SF, is penned by Elderly members; regarding distinctive differences between being “elderly” vs “senior” and what the vast disparity between the two stages of life are, and how they differ, contrast, significantly etc.,

I suppose the reason I find the topic so appealing, is that it never occurred to me to examine from their perspective before.

So, these last few days I’ve spent considerable time lingering over several various posts, and find it fascinating to discover there truly does exist a slight distinctive variation of intonation and sentiment between the elderly compared to senior members.

In quiet observation, I’ve gathered a rich sense of context and understanding among and between the written lines of elderly points of view regarding the rapid flux of transformation that often occurs for them from one day to the next.

I’m a bit unsettled knowing that until now, I’ve been terribly ignorant regarding a simple truth one elderly member candidly remarked upon, and that being that; “it’s simply inconceivable for seniors to possibly comprehend,” —

Unfortunately, I fall into the very group of seniors she refers to; lacking comprehensive understanding of the significant meaning of Elder Hood, which has nothing to do with aging, yet everything to do with “the third major stage of human development.”

Eventually, and inevitably, we shall all make the third-crossing of moving from “senior to elderly” into “Elder Hood.”

In my mind, walking the lone grey path; leads to this exact “larger” path.

So, as I slowly continue to make my lone-march to the grey depot, I reflect deeply and wholeheartedly upon the elderly; embracing their wisdom, respecting their tremendous fortitude to carry forth with more wisdom and insight I’ve yet to acquire.

And, if I’ve learned anything of significance during my brief stay, here in SF, it’s this:

“Being Elderly is a specific social role” worthy of respectful, conscious attention.

 

[Old_Dame]

“Love Letters Chocolate Shoppe”


Every now and again; I stray, and meander absently losing my way among capricious, dim-harrowing feeling, permeated with mournful grief.

Indelible proof, that, “the long parade to the graveyard” hasn’t passed me by.

Father, mother; grandparents, sibling; spouse, and most beloved child; all cruelly seized and borne to whiter shores.

One by one, I’ve dolefully tended their pain, their passing, and watched them wave tender farewell; with loving affection imprinted upon their lips.

Although their absence remains a fixed significant presence in mind and heart; I deeply miss the soft glow of their companionship, and the warm steady beating of their heart near mine.

It’s within these moments of profound longing, and yearning; I stray, and meander absently losing my way among little bits and pieces of puzzle …


Note: “Love Letters Chocolate Shoppe, Ravensburger Puzzle”; it’s absolutely delicious!

 

[Old_Dame]

Scuppers

The Sailor Dog - YouTube

This charming children’s story, was one of my favorite childhood stories growing up.

Last night, while happily browsing vintage fairy tale images online; I happen by chance to cross path with this lovely, loveliest, rendition on YouTube.

The OP/narrator’s natural accent compliments the seafaring story perfectly.

Yet, the real treat arrives at the end of the reading, when the narrator delivers a handsome, jovial, song performance of, “Scuppers The Sailor Dog.”

Truly, a very sweet and delightful handling of a well-deserved, beloved classic, I absolutely adore.

 

[RadishRose]

Scuppers

The Sailor Dog - YouTube

This charming children’s story, was one of my favorite childhood stories growing up.

Last night, while happily browsing vintage fairy tale images online; I happen by chance to cross path with this lovely, loveliest, rendition on YouTube.

The OP/narrator’s natural accent compliments the seafaring story perfectly.

Yet, the real treat arrives at the end of the reading, when the narrator delivers a handsome, jovial, song performance of, “Scuppers The Sailor Dog.”

Truly, a very sweet and delightful handling of a well-deserved, beloved classic, I absolutely adore.

That was delightful. Thanks, Old Dame!

 

[katlupe]

Scuppers

The Sailor Dog - YouTube

This charming children’s story, was one of my favorite childhood stories growing up.

Last night, while happily browsing vintage fairy tale images online; I happen by chance to cross path with this lovely, loveliest, rendition on YouTube.

The OP/narrator’s natural accent compliments the seafaring story perfectly.

Yet, the real treat arrives at the end of the reading, when the narrator delivers a handsome, jovial, song performance of, “Scuppers The Sailor Dog.”

Truly, a very sweet and delightful handling of a well-deserved, beloved classic, I absolutely adore.

Loved it! Thank you for posting it!

 

[Old_Dame]

@katlupe and @RadishRose… Simply overjoyed you retained a slice of happiness!

 

[Old_Dame]

Un Bel Di


One fine, beautiful late afternoon, from out of the wild blue yonder, my father casually approached me, while mother and I absorbed, busied ourselves sprucing the kitchen preparing for dinner.

He said he had a few shopping errands to run, and asked to borrow my car, and spare him the grief of backing his vehicle out of the garage.

In hindsight, with the deepest sorrow; I perceive this nitty-gritty slice of time, as perhaps the most pivotal, daunting, moment in my elderly father’s life.

Had I been mindful, more informed, attentive; I would have paused, and intimately questioned and examined what my father was actually saying to me?

Yet due to imprudent inexperience; I failed to identify and discern the covert subtlety, of life-altering transformation unfurling fixedly before my very eyes.

Obviously, telling hints overtly and delicately simmered, percolated, roving the intricate underlying threads of our lives for both mother, and I to see.

Unfortunately, blind; we remained unmoved, inattentive; void of sight.

Near nightfall, a hint of pale orange sun barely aglow, plagued mother and I with a dark, unsettling feeling.

Wild imaginings gave flight betwixt and between dreadful uncertainty; as father’s lingered absence loomed fiercely among ominous feeling, shared.

Then finally, near quarter to eight in the evening, father finally emerges a bit worn and physically frayed, and seriously weighted down with a bulky armload of excess bags of needless things full of this, and that.

Mother’s terse sigh of relief, instantly ignited into fierce flaring anger, as she fumed furiously, “Dear, where have you been?!? We’ve been worried sick about you, and about ready to set out looking for you!”

I’ll always remember the innocent, sweeping expressive expression of bewildering confusion gracing father’s face, when he naively asked, “What do you mean?

Why are you so upset, and in such a fuss, dear?

It took me a while to find the car; that’s all.”

My father had forgotten he’d borrowed and drove my car that fine, beautiful late afternoon …

 

[Old_Dame]

Whimsical Fancy


The other day, feeling rather fanciful; I floated upon whimsical, soft feeling.

The humble tribute to a beloved childhood story I embrace with special adoration is an outpouring, an expression of delicate receptivity, I often feel.

Similar to the day before last, I find myself once again floating buoyantly in softer emotion.

I feel deliciously happy to reflect, and express another cherished love of mine, and one that also stems from childhood.

As mentioned in my introductory post when first joining SF; I’m thinking of acquiring a fish aquarium.

As a child, I grew up with a large fishpond brimming with fancy goldfish, Japanese KOI, fragrant pink and white water lilies, turtles, bog-frogs, fish-fry, and tadpoles.

The fishpond, an oasis of life; became refuge and haven to not only me, but to bluebirds, robins, and many other species of birds, butterflies, dragonflies, honeybees, and insects.

A natural palette of lush harmonious greenery, of flowering shrubbery and trees, and various vegetation, abound; instilling a sense of Eden, and enduring serenity.

Yet best of all, this blissful paradise was heaven to my little band of pet ducks, that I ushered about hither and thither with a long thin pussy-willow stick … lol

I still recall the softness, and warm titillating feeling of the tiny furry buds infused in the palm of my hand, as I merrily guided my beloved little flock from their pen, to the pond, and then, back again.

It’s a funny thing growing old, and realizing our deepest, fondest, sentiments rarely change.

A constant, they remain ever present, and closely held; accompanying us either consciously, or unconsciously within our being, within our soul; drifting inside us through a series of years, as we slowly drift and float sanguinely through time.

 

[Old_Dame]

My Dream Fish Tank

by, Artist, P. Amachree

 

[Old_Dame]

Reality Fish Tank

by, BiOrb

 

[Old_Dame]

“A pearl is a beautiful thing that is produced by an injured life …

… It is the tear [that results] from the injury of the oyster.

The treasure of our being in this world is also produced by an injured life. If we had not been wounded, if we had not been injured, then we will not produce the pearl.”

—Stephan Hoeller

 

[Old_Dame]

One Side Red; One Side Green


Sometimes, in mind’s eye; I appear Crone-like, frightful, carrying a poison red apple … it’s how I perceive myself when struggling with leaner, darker feeling, and moments; when mourning my child, my husband.

Shrouded in despair;
desolate gloom,
overwhelms,
darkening the path.

Without candle,
or torch,
to light
the way;

A pale
crescent moon
holds
sway;

a fair reminder,
not to forget;
although unseen,
the apple
I carry;
Is also green.

Two:
opposing sides,

One side red,
poison death;

one side green
blessed soul,
having loved;

one side red,
doves mourn,
grief’s;
exacting toll.

 

[Old_Dame]

RY X, Ólafur Arnalds - Oceans

RY X, Ólafur Arnalds - Oceans

"Oceans"
Let it go
Free your mind
Let our hope
Be our wine

I know I can hold on
Is healing so low

I'm bleeding our love
I can't leave this open
This feeling's over

I'm bleeding oceans
I'm bleeding oceans
I'm bleeding oceans

Oceans
I'm bleeding oceans

Let it burn
Into your mind
Lay your woes
Into the fire

And I'll lay you down again
And I'll lay you down again
And I'll lay you down again
And I'll lay you down again

I know I can hold on
Is healing so low

I'm bleeding our love
I can't leave this open
This feeling's over

I'm bleeding oceans
I'm bleeding oceans
I'm bleeding oceans

Oceans
Oceans

And I'll lay you down again
And I'll lay you down again