The Wonder of It All

On a camel in Cairo

Note:  I wrote this some years back and never posted it but have decided to now since my feelings are the same despite the fact that, indeed, I am now an octogenarian and my life is therefore shifting in several respects.  (Maybe I'll talk about that another time, or maybe I won't.)  And, oh yes, I have seen France again, twice, and enjoyed it enormously.


Why do I ever think that life is only so-so or even a pile of tribulations when, in fact, it is absolutely superb.  I mean, listen to Peter Paul and Mary and remember when we were young and in our own wonderful space, doing our youthful work.  For me it was being off in Asia working with Tibetans and Nepalis.  Or, remembering my spouse who was a totally unique and fabulous individual who consistently inspired me and made me laugh.  Or thinking of those early days with our daughter who expressed herself, always, as an intelligent, lovable person as well as the expression of both my husband and myself.  It was our friends in that town.  It was, yes, the awful, cold winters.  It was then, after that, working on my own--as both an empty nester and a youngish widow--working to try to figure out "the rest of my life."

But as I remember, as these days come back to me, I feel totally privileged to have been a part of that time, those people ... as well as this life, these people.  To appreciate who we are, the time when we've lived, the time when we are living, and the people we are sharing that with!!

There are times I'm in tears, I'm so moved by my life, my past, my present, by what I have experienced and continue to experience.  As if I've been handed a gift of sea glass or new spring mornings or robins songs or French wines or views of the Jungfraujoch or the smell of the sea or the perfection of an herb garden or the visitation of a fox or the harkening back to my birth family all of whom are now gone.  Or the time when I first began to paint or play the piano or wanted to learn foreign languages or the time I saw Europe for the first time (from the railing of a Danish freighter) or began to appreciate that, in fact, I could paint pretty well. Or when I revived college friendships or realized that, yes, I was (am) getting old. Or when I put it out to the universe that I'd like to see France again and Iona and sing Handel's Messiah and paint a picture that I think satisfactory.

Thank you!