Random Thoughts At Year’s End

For last year’s words belong to last year’s language.

And next year’s words await another voice.

And to make an end is to make a beginning. – Ms. Unknown

If one is to think about this past year, randomly the best I can offer.

Decided to let the frog living in my hot tub to stay living. Had to think on it.

Thought about catching the little green weenie and driving out into the country and dropping him off at the first pond I came to.

But gas prices remain high.

So, I asked myself, how would Einstein or Gandhi think this through.

Frogs eat bugs, right? So, that’s good.

Then I remember I might’ve seen something from Dr. Oz saying, frog piss is actually good for your skin.

So, there’s that.

I let it go. Let the frog eat and wait for my skin to glisten.

Then the little motherfucker jumped! on my back.

Last I saw, he’s about fifty meters away over in the tall grass.

Made a few new friends. Lost one to a misunderstanding.

Trust me, if I say something personally offensive, know I am not even thinking about you. It’s true.

Lost another friend to a failed body. A bad heart, speaking only functionally, should never take the top-floor apartment.

I remember he distinctly complained about those stairs.

If folks are gonna die, wish they’d tell me ahead of time, so I might prepare.

I was prepared.

Sent out semi-monthly Sign Of Life requests for four months.

When the lines of communication go cold, try harder.

Think it takes me months to recover from surgery.

Six months after hours of anesthesia, like somebody pokes me and I am startled and I sense I feel better.

Almost good.

Doesn’t last long.

Never feel good.

My body – external, internal, physical, emotional, mental and spiritual – reminds me of the plate-spinners on the Ed Sullivan show. Seem to be more plates than last time, a couple spinning faster, and my reflexes duller.

Try to convince myself it’s funny – I bruise with every bump and lose depth perception perceptively.

Went to the grocery store. Had hoped to hit Dollar Tree, my idea of excitement these days. But locally in the last two weeks Covid cases are up over 1000% – not a typo. And no mask mandate.

Buffet restaurants are packed with tourists. At least at the grocery, many shoppers cover their chins.

Please try to live longer and enjoy every day while you are here.

Stay in touch with those who care about you. Even if some may have forgot of late.

I pray calmer minds will prevail, but my money’s on the mean people.

Next you’ll be telling me, climate change is real.

And I’ll be telling you, I live atop the tallest hill between here and the sea.

For successful aging, recognize one’s issues and adapt accordingly.

So said Jane Brody, The New York Times’ Personal Health columnist, after she turned 80 this spring. Inspired by Steven Petrow’s book, “Stupid Things I Won’t Do When I Get Old,” Ms. Brody took an inventory of her own life and decided what she no longer needed to do (color her hair; talk about aches and pains to anyone who will listen) and what she is unwilling to give up (walking her dog in the woods). “Sooner or later, we all must recognize what is no longer possible and find alternatives,” Ms. Brody wrote.

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Practicing mindfulness is not complicated, but it’s also not easy. 

BY CLAY SKIPPER January 5, 2021 for GQ.

What is mindfulness anyway?

Mindfulness is a term so overused that it’s effectively meaningless. It’s often confused with presence, says Goldstein. In order to explain why that’s a mistake, he brings to mind the image of a playful black lab. We’d say the dog is present but we wouldn’t describe it as mindful. It has no awareness of being in the present. Thus being mindful suggests a level of metacognition. Or, “knowing that we’re knowing,” as Goldstein puts it.

But simple recognition isn’t quite mindfulness either. Take the example of a loud noise. We might recognize the loud noise—we know that we hear it—but if that recognition is colored by a desire for it to stop, then there needs to be recognition of that desire for it to go away, too. We’re aware of what’s happening around us, and our attachment (or aversion) to those conditions.

“Mindfulness would mean being in the present, observing what’s happening in a non-judgmental way, free of greed, free of aversion, free of delusion,” Goldstein says.

To illustrate the importance of this type of clear-seeing, I’ll borrow a metaphor that is often used in mindfulness teaching: think of standing underneath a waterfall. Though it can often be a pleasant experience, especially on a hot day, it’s also loud, noisy, and nearly impossible to sense anything happening outside the torrent of water rushing down over you. Seeing your thoughts, feelings, and emotions as they are—and everything you attach to them—is like taking a small step back out from under the onslaught of the waterfall. They don’t go away, but now you can see them more clearly.

By seeing them clearly, you have more agency and can respond more constructively. Say someone at work is pissing you off. If you’ve ever had a meltdown you later regretted, then you know that, often getting mad is one of the least effective ways of dealing with anger. By attending to the anger mindfully—seeing both the anger and your aversion to it—you can then decide the best course of action, instead of just flying into a rage.

Goldstein compares it to having a remote for the television of our minds: “Mostly we are just watching the channels that have been habituated. But through mindfulness we can actually pay attention. We can really see: ’Does this contribute to my happiness, [or] another’s happiness? Well, no. It will just create more suffering for myself or others.’ When you’re mindful enough to see that, then just click the remote…most people are not aware that they hold the remote in their hands.”

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