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This week: 63 is the new 40. Right? Edited by: fyn  
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One starts to get young at the age of sixty.~~Pablo Picasso
We are always the same age inside.~~Gertrude Stein
How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?~~Leroy (Satchel) Paige
With 60 staring me in the face, I have developed inflammation of the sentence structure
and a definite hardening of the paragraphs.~~James Thurber
The mind that is wise mourns less for what age takes away; than what it leaves behind.~~William Wordsworth
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Ah, another year has rolled 'round. Staring at sixty-three in about a week's time and I am viewing it with mixed emotions. I remember my grandmother celebrating turning sixty-three. I also remember being nine (at the time) and thinking that my grandmother was 'awfully old.' She was not, but my young mind couldn't even conceive being that old! I am not. I refuse to be! I do not feel old. Hmmm. Well, yes, there are those mornings and bedtime seems to come earlier. Pulling an 'all nighter' throws me off for days, But most of the time, I don't feel any different than I did at forty. Or do I? Hmmm.
Smarter? I think so. Happier? Unqualified yes! Feeling more accomplished? Absolutely. Would I want to go back and be forty again? No. I just want to 'know' as I once felt, that there was this l-o-o-o-o-ng stretch of time reaching out beyond the horizon to do all the things I still want to do. But there isn't. I am aware, now, of the fact that that 'immortality' I felt once upon a time is a myth, that there is a final page and it won't matter if I've finished the chapter or not.
Time. Remember when summer vacation stretched forever full of potential adventures, unlimited possibilities? Remember when Christmas seemed like it took forEVer to arrive? Now summers pass in the time it takes to swat a mosquito and there's only thirty-three weeks until Christmas! Only yesterday we spent months planning our trip and now it is but a delicious memory. (That two weeks FLEW by!) I miss the feeling of floating down that river of time that just went on and on around the bend.
Years now zoom past at light speed and I find myself wishing I could slow it down somehow, to make it crawl as it once did. Sigh. My son asked me when I was going to 'finish' the book 'Place Settings' that I started when he was about nine. Hello? It is a memoir, of sorts. I am not finished living it yet! Heck, I'm not even caught up in it! Why? I am doing too much, I'm too busy living it. I still have a ton of stuff left on the bucket list. My daughter occasionally will say to me, "You're gonna live forever, right, Mom? You have to be around for when my kids get married." Sigh. This, the daughter who is getting married in October and sees getting pregnant being a few years out yet. So, what, that means being around another twenty-fine years or so? I hope I will be, but reality rears its head and says, "Face it - probably not."
It doesn't consume me. I know I'm on the downward slope. But every now and then, it kind of 'gets' to me. I'm a great-grandmother, some grandkids are in college while others are just in elementary school. The world has changed so much since I was a kid; back in the dark ages when we actually walked a half mile to school (by ourselves), played with our friends ... outside ... without supervision, got dirty, ate mud pies, climbed trees, (fell out, broke arms and no one got sued) rode our bikes to the candy store before going to the movies (a double feature for a quarter) and did hours of chores to earn that fifty-cent allowance. Gosh, it was so wonderful! Not that I mind typing on the computer and being able to backspace rather than retype an entire page because of a stray typo. Not that I mind having an entire world at my fingertips, being able to Google anything or seeing what my house looks like from above. I love that I've been able to experience all that I have, and all that I will!
I look back at writing I did five, ten, thirty years ago. Some still hits me with the 'Wow, I actually wrote that?' feeling ...sometimes in a super way; others in a 'shuddering, looking over my shoulder, hope no one sees that' sort of way. My fiction has certainly evolved. I remember being terrified of dialogue!!! No longer!
I've learned to trust in my muse. Stubborn, like me, she cannot be pushed, bullied or placated into inspiration. Thus, I have learned to be open to her faint mutterings, listen when she bellows (and not put off the writing because I have other things to do!) and to be open to absorb those little nuances that tend to get 'missed' in the day to day dashing about. I practice silence. While I may not write every day, I do STOP! at some point, step aside from the turmoil, hurdy-gurdy carnival of my life and listen, breathe, and consciously empty my mind so that there is room for little observance to creep in and take root.
Comes from living, I guess. Even though time 'feels' as if it is rushing past me at dazzling speeds, I've learned to pause mid-stream and notice the small stuff. So I notice contrails sketching the sky, smiling moons dipping for stars, fallen tulip petal birdbaths, and how the wind ruffles the new birch leaves. I notice the breeze is lilac-scented at the moment and take the few dizzying moments to just breathe it in. I hear 'cheater-cheater' cardinal party-line calls, the returning blue herons' gossip sessions, the advancing army of Saturday morning lawn mowers revving and the crack of a bat as a Little Leaguer hits a good one if the crowd noise is any indication. My hubby's much fussed over lawn is velvet soft under bare feet. I relish these things.
There is a sort of visual (or perhaps, mental) filter overlaying life these days. I don't let things blur. There is a peculiar clarity and nuance to what I experience. Things in general are clearer, bolder, louder. Emotions and feelings are more intense. There is a contentment oozing over stress. Acceptance, perhaps, of my lot in life and my place in it. There is appreciation that while I may not have everything I always thought I wanted, I have what I need, I love and am loved and that pretty much means I do have it all. (Not that I'd turn down a winning lottery ticket, but still ...)
I've learned that I am stronger than I ever thought I could be. I've learned, integrated and realized one can get past parent's passing, domestic abuse, rape and the loss of a child. Regardless of how I felt in those moments, the world did not end. I learned to go on with living and once again looked for and found there was still joy and life and tons of living to be lived. I didn't forget any part of any of it, but I assimilated it and evolved around and through it. All the crap times still led me to where I am today and I know I made a deliberate choice to be me no matter what. I'm no longer a shy, scared little rabbit. I'm opinionated, blunt and honest. I still give folks the benefit of the doubt, but have no patience for lazy, excuse-oriented people who have chosen to ignore the fact that actions have consequences. I am no longer afraid to speak up, even if I may choose to practice discretion rather than shouting my agenda to the rooftops. I have become comfortable in my own skin. I'm not perfect, nor should I wish to be.
Thinking about the book my son wants me to finish ... 'Place Settings,' ... It's in my port if you want a gander at the real me, the me beyond the Fyn. It's all true, real, vital 'me'-ness. Thinking one of the best aspects of becoming 'older' is the freedom to toss expectations to the curb, fling off the confines others have tried to clothe me in and run (not literally!) naked with the experience of living and the exuberance of a toddler playing under a sprinkler.
A friend, a woman of a certain age a bit upwards of seventy said I was just a baby yet. I said something similar to a thirty-something the other day. Perspectives... aren't they fun!
I'm thinking sixty-three is going to be amazing!
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I'm treating you to a variety of editor's picks that are super favorites of mine. These folks can really write!!!
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Sarah had a gift; where was it when she needed it most? Charity's 10th Anniversary Entry
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dpmorgan said: In your letter you describe two situations- Memorial and Traffic jam. How the people reacted was interesting. I have observed that this reaction is fairly common. People will respect the National Anthem in the UK and in many countries and it is heartwarming to see the solidarity. The traffic queue behaviour I have seen many times. It shows how we can behave for the common interest or to help someone none of us know. Pity we can't do it more often, Thanks for Newsletter.
brom21  writes: I loved how you were able to just take a step back and breath in God's wonderful creation. Indeed it is true that life is a journey and that we are to enjoy the ride. I live in Las Vegas but even in a fast paced, growing community, there is natural beauty there. One thing to stop and admire is the way the sunlight shines through white, fluffy clouds-it makes me think of heaven. I enjoyed this newsletter. Thanks for sharing!
Quick-Quill  says: I think you are trying to tell us, as a writer, we need to stick to the viewfinder. We can't back away and tell all thats going on as you turn your head. What a producer sees in the square of his "viewfinder" is what your reader will be interested in. The close ups, the background and anything happening from side to side. Move the character around in that space. Pull back and somethings get smaller or less important. Here is where you focus on the big picture. This is the hardest part for me to do. I just keep at it.
DRSmith comments: What d'ya know... another brilliant intro, leading right into another brilliant theme with a picture so vivid (yes, pun intended), even a coconut head like me can envision the message. Amazing how one can be so spontaneously prolific; a trait I envy. Perhaps you could conjure up yet another brilliant piece on that theme pro-offering tips and tricks that may help ignite the muse in those of us who need a size 12 to kick start it?
I'll have to send you a size 12 clodhopper! (Rube Goldburg style!) I touched on it, in a way, in today's newsy!
hbk16 adds: In reality someone sees what she/he wants to see then observes only one side of the subject.
Observing is indeed an art which teaches us how to keep deep details and consider things deeply to understand a fact really.
That is to say that someone has to interpret what is seen not from her/his narrow view but otherwise from different angles in order to keep some important details considered first unimportant.
This needs from someone to have first a goal from her/his deep observation and build a writing on her/his objective and full interpretations.
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For Authors: May 03, 2017 Issue [#8270]
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