AUTHENTIC ADULT WOMAN

Meeting the Buddha on the Road . . .

Taking a luxurious stroll on the ranch this morning my cells soar to soprano Elizabeth Schwarzkopf on my iPod. I find myself conducting the music, arms flailing, fingers exquisitely feeling the high soft notes. 

Two beautiful, fresh-faced young men approach me on the path and say nice things about my sparkly pink visor. They are so clean, clear-eyed - precious, really . . . radiant with eager friendliness.  They reach out to shake my hand.  "I'm Zack" says the one with flying dark hair and glowing pink cheeks.  "And I'm Ziggy" says the shy blond one with serious glasses.  Spontaneously I take out my ear buds and hold them up to Zack's young ears . . . he is astonished by the rich full tone...(by now he hears Leonard Cohen)...He says, "I had no idea you could get such big sound from that tiny device, I still use a RECORD PLAYER!".  It was my turn to be shocked. Here I am, almost 78 -  but apparently SO 'WITH IT'.  

Minutes later a really old guy wanders up from the ocean path and stretches out flat on a nearby wooden bench.  He takes one look at me and scolds, "You should stop every now and then and exercise your PSOAS", (whatever that is?)  He demonstrates by grasping his left leg and pulling it to his chest while letting his right leg hang down to the ground.  I admire his discipline, nod with fake enthusiasm, and walk on by.  There is a limit to what I can ask of myself on a lovely morning like this.  

Farther along a white-haired man in a shiney red helmet bicycles by me and stops to say: "Beautiful day, isn't it!"  He tells me he is 77 (big deal, I think), and is loving his life. He thinks we're both "lookin' pretty good!".

So here we are, young and old together on this path . . .

Those young boys were so beautiful. They refresh my hope for the future.  And those old guys were precious too, full of guts and energy . . . all of us intoxicated by the beauty of this earth, this sea, this precious life.

I am still full of this joy . . . so I park my car here by the ocean for a few minutes to tell you about it. I roll down the windows and open the sun roof of my old '98 Audi A4.  I pause, listen to the bashing but blissful waves - breathe the sea brine air, smile at the seagull playing in the wind right above me . . .

          

HAVE I TOLD YOU LATELY?

MY DEAR READERS -  Do you have any idea how much I love sharing with you?  Are you aware of how much joy it gives me to know that we're taking this journey together?

It seems like such a small thing - to write a blog.  But it brings together my 3 big things:  

*a great love of words - feeling words, true words, words that express the fullness of my life.

*a wild excitement about photographs.  I am SO VISUAL . . . images speak to me instantly

*a huge desire to share - ideas, insights, ponderings, poetry, foolishness, inspirations, confessions, human frailties, the glories and surprises of aging . . . maybe even wisdom.

 

When I realized you were actually reading AUTHENTIC ADULT WOMAN - it made me giddy with delight - and then I felt a little shy.

Maybe I should be more sophisticated? . . . . . . more childlike, more mature,

                                        more scholarly, more humorous, more transparent?

                

Then I thought, "wait a minute! what's authentic about writing from a phoney place?  NOTHING.  

Some of you asked for more personal pictures so I had SCADS OF FUN putting together this slightly narcissistic collage (and those are just a few of the multiple personalities you're getting to know :)

I know my blog is 'all over the place' and so is my life.  So full of possibilities, only clouded by the limitations of time and energy.

So, my dears, here I am . . . however I turn up - and truly thrilled to be connecting with you.

                                                     Thanks so much for your comments -

I enjoy you enormously. 

 

INTERNET JUNKIE EXPOSED!

I AM SO EMBARRASSED!  Here I am, a frugal crone with good values. I recyle, repair, 'make do', wear classic clothes that never wear out (hoping they'll come back into style), support green causes, use renewable energy sources . . . 

And now, like half of America - the half I've always despised - I've become a rabid ONLINE SHOPPER.

 

SIX weeks ago a friend linked me to an online 'service' that offers fabulous daily 

DEALS on practically EVERYTHING - from 7 nites in Bali, for $395, or a compact printer/scanner regularly $90 for only $27.50, or a set of Eygptian cotton sheets,1600 thread, for only $30.00; cases of mellow old red wine, tempting, teasing -

I said YES time after time.  

   
                        

The exciting packages arrived daily . . . a huge shocking-orange pet carrier - too big for my two little cats; a pair of dreadful screechy speakers which were supposed to amplify my iPod on the beach; the set of flimsy 'miracle fiber' sheets made in godknowswhere!  

There is more.

 

The battery operated massage roll which, when activated by pressing an obscure button in an unreachable spot, rumbles menacingly and completly shatters one's meditative mood :(  I could go on.

I caught myself losing touch with my 'center'.  My body/soul was off kilter. Unbelievalbe daily offers from these invisible and colorful SNAKE OIL SALESPERSONS drove me into a frenzy of foolish faux need.

Until yesterday.  

Suddenly I grabbed my sleeping frugality by the scruff of the neck and said:  STOP. YOU DO NOT NEED THIS STUFF. YOU ARE TRYING TO DE-AQUISITION, YOU WANT TO SIMPLIFY. You are not planning to open a thrift shop with the awful results of your internet shopping spree . . . STOP.  

 

 

SO, humbled and chastened, I laboriously packaged up most of those unneeded, bad quality, poorly fitting, pieces of cr*p, hauled them to the PO and sent them all right back! (except for the massage roll, and the solar-powered keyring charger for your 'portable devices' )

WHEW - what a roller coaster ride into the shadow side of cyber space!  

 

My spirit is calm again. I should have remembered Wordsworth's warning: 

"GETTING AND SPENDING, WE LAY WASTE OUR POWERS"

 

 

JOURNEY TO THE STONE AGE

It's early morning . . . I'm walking joyfully along a narrow path in the High Desert near Lake Isabella . . . full of the juice of life.  I feel exalted, elated, a lilt to my step!  I feel the powerful energies of this place.  The air is fresh and clear and clean . . . scented with sage and sweet earth.  Oak trees have burst into full gorgeous green after last night's rain.  

 

 

 

 

I am blissful,

rapturous -

swinging over hill and dale with my camera. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Down on my left  the Mighty Kern River is at peace now - before the snow-melt rushes down from Mt. Whitney in the north.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Farther along huge boulders in the river's path choke the wild flow into turbulent ecstacy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Suddenly, far up to my right, I see what appears to be the ruins of a lost city of the ancient world -

I zoom in closer - can you see the olde tower there, windowless, and the fallen building blocks of the castle?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 . . . notice the remnants of the city wall in the foreground!  

I am in altered space.

How many millenia since people walked this mountain . . .

 

What is TIME anyway?  It feels like all ONE this morning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Huge rocks rest at the foot of a dead tree. They seem settled now - resting.  

 

God knows where they began?  How many centuries have passed since they were mere kernels of sand? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On another mountain top a giant altar to the Gods rises to heaven - what ancient people sought blessings in this place?

 

 

 

 

And could these be the fosilized toes of a wooly mammoth who roamed the earth in days gone by?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And maybe this is a half-buried stone phallus - testimony to the days when giants ruled the world :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have lost touch with time - I am enchanted - high on visions, oracles, I hear the music of distant flutes -

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I take one last look at my ancient ruins . . .

Now I think it's an altar up there on the mountain.  Maybe that small stone on top is the remnant of a sacrifice?

 

 

 

 

I retrace my steps, come down into my present world, stunned, exalted, and in awe. I'm still so in tune with the dry, sagey breeze, the ultra-blue sky, the gigantic granite boulders, these ancient magic stones.

They say oceans once covered this land. Geologists found whale bones on those rocky formations!  Miners dug for gold here. My spirit feels connected to a long lost time . . . something from the collective unconscious is resonating in my cells.

In the depths of my being - I am at home here.

 

THE DISTRACTIONS OF SPRING

I can't seem to write about FOCUSING! Altho' I have lots of good things to say about paying rapt attention to one thing at a time . . . I'm just not there yet.

                            THE PROBLEM IS SPRING! 

          

Another spring storm shook the house last night . . . thunder like a freight train rumbling over the roof, sharp lightening flashes and torrents of rain. This morning the sky was leaden and forbidding.

________________________________

But now the skies are purest blue over a calm sea and the warm spring sun warms my shoulders as I climb up the old steps into the garden.

                 

Our garden is a pleasantly unruly mix of african daisies, pride of Madeira,rosemary, mint, scrubby pea trees, rock roses, lace-cap hydrangeas, jasmine, meyer lemon, lavender, honey suckle, giant impatiens, pink breath of heaven, Mexican merigold, scotch broom, mother ferns, rose-scented geraniums, African marrow bushes, bicopa, purple hebe bushes, licorice plants, red and pink tea trees - all surrounded by huge old Monterey pines - creating an oasis of quiet green privacy.

                  

If you follow the path around to the right you can step up onto a deck with its pots of hardy geraniums, merigolds and a couple of soft old chaise lounges.

                   

  

 

 

 

 

  Above all, there is PEACE here . . .

 - a place to lie back, protected and     embraced by nature and soothed by the  sound of the ceaselessly breathing sea.

 

 

 

 

FUN FEASTS!

I'M ON A HEALTHY BINGE!  I keep discovering gorgeous organic veggies at the farmer's market and the Whole Foods cornucopia. What abundance! I'm obviously not so conscious of PORTION SIZE . . .alas, but it's a great improvement over the heaps of potato chips and kettle corn I used to call dinner :(

 

 

 

 

How about this deep bowl of skinless breast of chicken, steamed organic brocolli and young carrots, sauteed red onions, and baked yams spritzed with 'I can't believe it's not butter'.

 

 

 

 

 

Here we have a simple dinner of crusted Talapia sizzled in coconut oil (the GOOD saturated fat), ripe red organic tomatoes, brussels sprouts and orange pepper strips oven-roasted with garlic,

AND the comforting mashed potatoes made somewhat eligible by the addition of 2/3 organic zucchini.

The white sauce is Southwestern Ranch dressing by 'Follow your Heart'.  It's creamy with a slight nip!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can't ever get enough yellow squash grilled in a bit of nutty coconut oil and sprinkled with thyme, garlic and Celtic sea salt.  Add snap peas lightly steamed and sauteed with organic chicken in broth for a minute. . . AND, the sins of all sins, potatoes smashed with a dollop of coconut oil, fresh ground pepper and salt and a few slivers of sweet onion. . . . .

Finally, a slightly more complex plate: pulled pork, unsweetened applesauce, steamed organic red chard with butter spritz, and lots of organic baby beets, first steamed in their skins, then peeled and fried lightly in olive oil and garlic.

I've never really liked cooking, but now with all these divine colors, textures and tastes . . . I feel a wee bit of the ecstasy my friend Susan, the gourmet cook, must enjoy!

WILD NATURE - UNLEASHED!

7:45 am - the wind is howling, the surf is up - I yank on my old blue anorak, my faded red baseball cap, grab my camera and head down to the boardwalk.

The waves thunder in like a herd of wild horses - manes flying, rearing up and crashing down - powerful, gigantic . . .

They rage in to the shore, in fierce rows, nostrils flaring, big square teeth gnashing, thrashing the water into chaos. Plunging into shore, gathering strength, building heavily to a climax - then smashing down with a deafening roar - relentless!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The wild sea tosses timbers and carcasses onto the shore - I'll find treasure there tomorrow!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Turning away from the sound and fury I 'capture' gnarled trees standing shrouded in the morning mist.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Overlooking the breathtaking chaos of the sea my friend Will displays his carved redwood shapes.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notice the 'falcon', >>>>> sitting on one of the huge timbers Will hauls in from the forest.  

For the longest time I thought this was a real bird!

 

I zoomed into it from afar - holding my breath that it wouldn't fly away - only to creep up and discover the teasing illusion was just a clever piece of wood.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finally, looking down I see an undiscipherable message carved by worms into the trunk of this old tree.  It seems to say: 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

        LIFE IS A MAGNIFICENT                         MYSTERY!

                  (or something like that)

 

 

 

 

p.s. 3:45 pm - It's still wild out there, but the waves are heavy molten silver now, and the high winds rattle the stained glass in my tower window . . .

FOCUS - THE HARD PART

My word for the year is FOCUS!  But I am a Gemini. Need I say more?  So much stimulating stuff surrounds me; ideas, colors, shapes, people, projects, possibilities!  Sometimes all at once.  It's exciting.  And overwhelming.

Alas, to concentrate, to pay attention, to settle on one thing - means ignoring the others.

Here's my problem in a nutshell.  MY STUDIO.  I'll show you all sides of it. It's the tower room on the third floor overlooking a panoramic view of the ocean.

 

 

For you, this picture of my studio is sort-of tidied up - you should see it when I am focused on a project!

 

Notice the masks, the books, and the ever-changing distraction of the sea and the sky.

 

Turn to your right and see one of my favorite places...

the 'bednook' - (below).

 

 

 

 

 

 

I designed it to feel like a safe and private reading spot. And an inviting place for heart-to- heart talks with dear friends. 

 

 

 

 

Now look to the right again...and see my computer cubby..where I sit when I'm writing to you.

 

 

Are you beginning to see the HARD PART of focusing..

for me?

 

 

Don't miss the always tempting Relax-the-back chair in the foreground!

 

 

And the SoulCollage cards and mugs of colored pencils and pens, and photos of loved ones on the shelves ...

 

 

-and the nice Bose speaker bringing me full rich music whenever I need to dance around a bit or lie back and absorb the sounds into my cells.

 

 

 

Look right for the last time...and find the sliding doors leading to the tower deck...where the constantly seething ocean sighs and pounds and roars and reflects the tourquois or slate or wild orange of the sky.

              

             

            SO NOW CAN YOU SEE HOW HARD IT IS TO FOCUS ON ANY ONE THING?

            

             Next time I'll write about the incredible experience of paying rapt attention!  Stay tuned...

I'LL TAKE THE HIGH ROAD -

There are three paths across the hilly ranchland near my house.  The FIRST PATH offers breath-taking vistas from the jagged bluffs right along the ocean - wild waves, the curving arc of a gull, camera-clad tourists . . .

                 

The MIDDLE ROAD is higher up. It's a wide, gravel, 'fire road' where folks walk their dogs, ride their bikes or their horses. I like the casual local feel of it; room to spread your arms - and maybe sing along with Roberta on your iPod. 

                  

The THIRD TRAIL - at the very top of the ridge - is a rough, foot-worn path that wanders up and over the hills and into the woods on the far side of the ranch.

         

 

On this top trail you can look down at the more distant ocean on one side and way down to our little village nestled beneath its mountains on the other. This is definitely the 'road less traveled'. And that feels like a meditation and an adventure. 

 

 

I took the high road this morning. I sit alone up here on a lovely handcrafted bench under a huge old Monterey Pine.  I feel the warm sun filtering through the branches.  So quiet.  I have my little Moleskin notebook with me and a yellow Papermate eversharp with a fine point.  I might just jot down a few notes about some psychological implications of these 3 paths.

                  

Of course there is the desire, more frequent these days, to get away from the 'collective'...the go-to destinations, the tourist path...the road more traveled.

Or the pleasant temptation to take the easy route in the middle where ordinary people amble along and pick up dog poop and say 'good morning'.

But choosing the rougher, narrower, highest trail offers the broadest vistas...you can see both sides; the ocean on one side symbolizing the vast unconscious, and the bustling village down on the othe side representing our conscious day to day concerns.  

This third path offers a clear image of the ever-present opposites in our lives.  And reminds us that we have the freedom to choose where we want to focus our energies and our thoughts.

But enough of such gleanings.  What I really feel right now is gratitude...for the deep beauty of the earth and the sea... Gratitude for these peaceful, soul-serving vistas. 

And grateful for the chance to walk all the paths that lead, eventually, to the 'other side'. 

WHAT IS AN AUTHENTIC CRONE?

A couple of crusty old friends challenged my use of the word CRONE in connection with myself.  So while reading the usual demeaning definitions; ("a term of abuse, a beast, a hag, an ugly withered woman") --   

I was delghted to find this one:  "AN OLD EWE"! 

I rather like the idea of 'an old ewe'.  Look at this touching  picture of her here... plodding up the mountain!  She looks exhausted.  Her coat is in tatters.  Her old face is tender and resigned.

I love her. I often feel like she looks.  

I also admire her.  It is her nature to climb.  She's a mountain goat.  She keeps on doing what she's meant to do.  

Me too.

But the real reason I call myself a Crone isn't just because I'm withered and tattered.  It comes from Jungian analyst Marion Woodman in her book, Conscious Femininity.

"In the middle ages, the word Crone meant The Crown of Life.

..the Crone is the woman who has gone through her crossroads --The crossroads represents a place where consciousness is crossed by the unconscious -- a place where you have to surrender your ego will to a higher will. 

A Crone can be who she is and live with the straight, flat-out, naked truth.

She can afford to be honest.

She discerns what is authentic and what is not authentic."

The Crones I admire have real "presence".

 

They aren't into power.

            

            Like Marion Woodman, they can act as a tuning fork.  They ring a true tone that can bring people into an experience of their own essence.

            

            I've spent decades becoming an Adult Woman...one who speaks with her own authority, who is not dependent on others for her identity.  And those characteristics are surely the foundations of Cronehood.

            I've gone through many crossroads.  And I must (frequently) surrender my ego to a higher will.

                                                    So maybe I'm a novice Crone?

I'm not sure that my friends like it, but I feel freer now to express my own truth, and sometimes it's more blunt and less than 'pleasing'.

            A challenge now is to balance this new REALNESS with kindness -- while keeping my hard-won integrity.

 

                                          More and more I am what I am.  And that's OK.

This process of becoming a mature and conscious Crone isn't easy - and it surprises me daily.

_______________________________ 

        (Alas, I don't know the photographer so I can't give proper credit for this perfect picture.)