Struggling with Loneliness

I first posted this in 2019, and its time for a re-post.

–by Neal Lemery

I see a lot of loneliness in our society. Ironically, it is everywhere, and often found in the busiest places of our communities. With all of our personal technology, and seemingly effortless tools to “keep in touch”, we struggle with an epidemic of isolation. Loneliness is often invisible, seldom talked about, and not an easy topic of conversation. There’s a social taboo on vocalizing our emotional states, anyway, and falling silent and withdrawing is one of the traits of the lonely and isolated.

Three quarters of Americans have experienced moderate to acute loneliness. And, a quarter of us are at the high end of that emotional range.

Loneliness is most prevalent in ages under 25 and over 65. US News and World Report.

I recently came upon a friend, sitting by himself, head in his hands, in the middle of the busiest part of a big store.

Instead of tending to my shopping list and a busy day, I sat with him, and honored the silence between us. He looked up, barely acknowledging me, and then resumed staring at his hands and the floor. He’s normally talkative with me, telling stories of his kids, his work, and his art. Now, just silence, and a lot of pain. I felt his loneliness in the air we breathed, and from the bench where we sat.

My friend isn’t usually like this, brooding and silent. There’s something deep going on, I thought, and I best take the time to just be here with my friend.

The silence deepened, but it felt comfortable. I could tell that my presence was welcome, and that I should stay.

People whirled around us, the noise of shopping carts and kids, lots of conversations filling up the space. My friend’s silence became even more noteworthy in all the chaos and tumult. Intuitively, I decided to stay, my friend needing someone to just be with. Just being present is a valuable, and often greatly appreciated act of friendship.

My friend took a deep breath and sighed, and then began to talk, his voice barely above a whisper. He told a tale of anxiety and despair, how life has been a struggle, and that no one cared about him.

“I care,” I said.

“I know,” he replied. He talked more, the emotional dam letting loose, dark thoughts and pent up feelings spilling out, filling up the comfortable silence that we had. He looked me in the eye, and told a funny story on himself.

We laughed and he said he felt better, just being able to talk about life with someone.

“I’m better now,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about me now. I’ll be alright.”

“And thanks,” he said. “Thanks for sitting with me and being my friend.”

A few years ago, I took an empowering training on being sensitive to depression and suicidal ideation. QPR Training. That experience gave me the confidence to tune up my intuition and my compassion, and be able to be of some help to those in need of help in dark times. I asked a few questions, and said I knew of some resources if he needed them. He said he wasn’t at risk, but he appreciated my concern and the offer.

He thanked me for being a friend, and for taking the time to care.

Isn’t that task in the job description of being a human being and living in society? We all need to be aware and to take the time to help a fellow human being.

The rest of the day, I was more aware of the loneliness around me, and in my community. I made it a point to talk to people in the store, and say “hi”, how are you doing?”, and really meaning it.

The checkout clerk and I had a good conversation, and I realized that even though she was inundated with customers throughout her shift, the work can be lonely and isolating.

“There’s a misperception that loneliness means social isolation,” Dr. Dilip Jeste, a professor of psychiatry and neuroscience at the University of California at San Diego, said. “Loneliness is subjective. It is what you feel. The definition of loneliness is distress because of a discrepancy between actual social relationships and desired social relationships. There’s a discrepancy between what I want and what I have.”

Like most of us, I experience loneliness and depression. Those emotions are part of my humanity, and likely are at least partly influenced by the turmoil and pressures of our society, which corrode my efforts to take care of myself and be healthy. I’ve tried to build into my self-care regimen some tools to be less lonely, more connected with others. Among those tools are exercise, nutrition, taking time to be in nature, creativity, and engaging with others.

Volunteerism is suggested by Dr. Kasley Killam, in her article, A Solution for Loneliness, in the May, 2019 edition of Psychology Today. She urges us to volunteer at least two hours a week, which can reduce our sense of loss of meaning, and reverse cognitive decline. 2/3 of volunteers reported they now felt less isolated, which addresses the fact that a fourth to half of all Americans feel lonely a lot of the time. Loneliness makes many of us more prone to developing a wide range of physical and mental illnesses, including heart disease, cancer, diabetes and depression.

Self care, and community care. They go hand in hand and make a better world for all of us.

6/24/19

The Power and Gift of Time

Posted on the Tillamook County Pioneer on October 18, 2023

A person with glasses and a beard

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By Neal Lemery

Like most Americans, I’m impatient, wanting to get things done, to see the fruits of my labors right now. Let it happen, but now, not later. Waiting, let things happen when they are ready, well that’s not me, that’s not my “lifestyle”, my method of living and working.

One of my holiday traditions is to make vanilla extract. It is a simple recipe, a simple process. Last winter, I made a large batch, setting it aside in a seldom-used kitchen cabinet to age. Now, after a kitchen remodel and in the process of emptying all the cabinets for the contractor, those bottles have disappeared, hiding somewhere in a “special place”, currently missing in action and becoming part of the mysteries of the house.

I became irritated and edgy, mostly at myself for losing track of that project. Also, I wasn’t ready for the holidays, and needed to replenish my supplies of the delicious baking ingredient. The extract isn’t something that can be done in a few hours; it takes time and patience, which is always in short supply during the holiday madness.

After a few hours of somewhat frenzied searching for the missing bottles and that “special place”, I decided to start over, and make a new batch. I found my recipe, learning that I had plenty of time to let my project age and ripen. That is, if I started right away, I could get a “reboot” and have plenty of time to let the concoction age. I could choose not to be stressed and anxious, and instead, take charge and find a remedy, a solution to my forgetfulness and anxiety.

I found new supplies on line, and when they came the next day, I started anew. It is a simple recipe: vodka, cut up vanilla beans and pods, and small bottles. And, time of course. Within a half hour, all was well, with the concoction starting its soaking time. It is an infusion process, allowing the alcohol to soak up the vanilla flavors and turn the vodka into an attractive caramel color. I put my collection in the same cupboard where the other extract had been stored and then disappeared, with both me and my wife verbally reminding us where the new project was stored.

All I had to do was shake the new bottles once a week, and wait. Oh, and remember to do that and keep its location in my memory banks. I trust myself to engage in those rather simple, easy tasks.

For this project, it is all about time. Allowing time to work its magic seems almost un-American, contrary to the “want it now” attitude of society. Respecting time seems to now be a lesson for me to relearn, and to incorporate into my life.

Other projects seemed to ripen that day, with several ideas and tasks that were awaiting others’ approval or participation, also came to life. Meetings came to life, ideas ripened into easy tasks, and things moved along. Check boxes were checked and advances were made. There was an air of accomplishment now, apparently contagious, infecting other sleeping ideas into their action stage. From what had been a grumpy, unfulfilling day was turning into a most productive experience. Time and patience were bearing fruit.

Other projects came to mind: an overdue letter to a friend, the writing of a sympathy card, updating my to do list, adding items to the grocery list that were needed, but hadn’t risen to the status of urgent necessities. Getting some things done, mundane though they may initially seem, was turning into a sense of satisfaction, accomplishment, and having time to be happy with how I was getting through the day. The idea that I was an idiot for not remembering where the vanilla extract had vanished to was fading away, in the bright light of all of this accomplishment.

Patience and the impact of taking time is also woven into our community life. Some really good ideas and actions seem to take an inordinate amount of time. Some problems I want to have addressed immediately, to be solved, so we can move on. Yet, I should be patient, knowing that some community issues are intricately complex and challenging, and all aspects of a solution aren’t yet ready to be assembled. People need time to process, to look at different solutions and methodologies. They aren’t quite yet ready to act, or to accept some needed change. For some things, its not yet time for it to happen.

I’m that way, too, though I’m hesitant to admit it. I can be a stubborn mule, and don’t often like changing my mind, or agreeing that someone else’s idea is better, more practical. My impatience gets in the way of real progress and success. I need to remember my vanilla extract, and let time work its magic. And, when things have ripened and matured, all the waiting will be worthwhile, and delicious.

My New Approach to Social Media

(Published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 9/6/2023)

by Neal Lemery

I’m tired of the bitterness and confrontational atmosphere of many social media posts, as well as how daily life is popularly reported in traditional media. It has become an environment of combat and derision, of snarkiness and often outright rude behavior, rather than informational, a building, a celebration of the best of us.

Being reactive, angry, frustrated, and generally being in a divisive, combative mindset hasn’t been very productive. A look at the headlines in the newspaper or taking in the evening news on TV seems to be proof of that approach. Many social media posts and many in the political sphere seem to take pride in their nastiness. Our society seems mired in bitterness, hatred, and animosity. We seem to be adrift, lacking a moral compass. To what end?

What is my role in all of this? I often feel pulled into the rancor, the fighting and the biting, sarcastic remarks and commentary. I need to think about how do I respond to social media, which seems to be taking an ever-larger role in how we interact with the world. How do I look at the world, its problems, how I deal with what lands on my plate? How do I navigate this world? What tools will give me the best viewpoint, the best, most effective analysis, so that I can find answers and move ahead?

Am I part of the problem, or am I part of the solution?

Finding consensus and building compassion hasn’t seemed to be the goal of the game of getting through life in 2023. The aim seems to be having the biggest body count in politics, applying the scorched earth mentality where the winner should be taking all, and to heck with the other side. And, aren’t there only two sides: us and them, the winners and the losers? We, the smart ones, and them, the ignorant ones who have been led astray, and likely without any redeeming value. “They” are easy to toss in the trash.

And, of course, the other side is evil, dangerous, not to be trusted, not to be loved or respected. Thoughtful analysis and learned discourse is for the weak. We must be strong, and, of course, always right. We wouldn’t want to wage war and then revise our thinking, based on someone else’s thoughts or different information. We tend to reach for the convenient labels, the quick and dirty terms for the “others”. The labels seem to stick, without regard for the complexity and depth of a genuinely held outlook on an issue. It all becomes so convenient, quick and dirty.

But, it’s not working. Degrading people and their point of view has never been a long term, workable answer to society’s problems and the search for useful answers.

I want to try out a different approach. I want to look at an issue, a discussion as an opportunity to look at how my response can be constructive, a building up, become an act of support and creating healthy solutions. Can I respond so that I am positive, a force for good change, to be a builder rather than a wrecking ball? Can I show that I am willing to learn, even change my opinion?

If I l look at a situation with this mindset, then I want to be a builder, a reformer, a force for doing something good. And, if I don’t feel I have the right tools, then isn’t my job to go out and find the tools that work, that build? Aren’t I tasked with resourcing the good ideas that are solution-oriented, constructive? Isn’t that part of the job description of a citizen?

If I let myself be pulled into the nastiness of some social media posts, I soon become the grumpy critic, the one who tears down and bashes, the naysayer. It is harder to be the builder, the positive analyzer who is looking for what works, what makes life better, the helper. That theme of the helper, the builder seems to be the bedrock of the major religious faiths and theologies in the world. Yet that viewpoint is now often swept into the background of a cultural desire to wage social war against the “non-believers” and “others”,and be a casualty of our cultural wars.

My new approach is to look at a social problem or an issue in our culture from the viewpoint of morality. I need to adopt a new outlook, and be positive. Is my approach based upon applying and advancing sound, thoughtful moral viewpoints and values? I like to think I am in favor of, and an advocate for respecting others, thoughtfully considering their viewpoints, and offering thoughtful conversation on the issues, looking toward dialogue, discussion, and mutual positive regard. That requires an open, inquisitive mind, a mind open to new ideas.

Does my thinking and action benefit me? Does it benefit the community? Does it advance the common good? Am I being respectful? Am I open to a challenge to my ideas and thinking, to the point of thoughtful consideration of other viewpoints, and, perhaps, even changing my mind and accepting a different viewpoint as well-reasoned and workable?

A friend recently offered me this challenge and analysis to what a person might say in a discussion or a post on social media. The famed author Ursula LeGuin had this posted on the wall above her desk:

Is it true?

Is it necessary or at least useful?

Is it compassionate, or at least unharmful?

I’m going to try to give this approach a genuine try. I’ll have to change some habits, and develop new mindsets as I go about my life, and compose my social media posts accordingly. I’ll have to look hard at how I talk with people, how I navigate through my life with my family, friends, and community. I’m an old dog and it will be hard to learn new tricks, and try a new, fresh approach. After all, shooting from the hip and being a little nasty and cranky with people is still the mainstay of our 2023 culture. Stepping out of the culture wars and trying something different will take some effort, but I’m ready for a change.

How can each of us do a better job, of being a positive force for change? Are we ready for that?

9/6/2023

In Praise of Teachers

by Neal Lemery

(published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 8/27/23

We may not realize it, but the school year has already begun. At my neighborhood school, our community’s teachers and support staff are already at work. Long hours are being put in to prepare for a productive year of educating our children. Lesson plans, the gathering of materials, the planning of experiences are well underway.

I talked with some of my own high school classmates the other day, delving into good memories with remarkable teachers. Who influenced us, who helped shape us into who we are today? A list of great teachers immediately came up. We had many names in common on our lists, the great, the influential, the amazing professionals who opened the world to us, taught us how to be analytical, curious, and ambitious about our potential.

Over fifty years later, their impact continues to affect our lives, and help us continue to contribute to society. Because of them, we are lifelong learners and lifelong achievers. And, we’ve shaped the generations to follow us.

What makes a great teacher? How do they reach us and fire us up, equipping us to take on challenges and professions, to teach us to also teach, to reach out to others and instill a love for learning?

“Education is not the filling of a pot but the lighting of a fire.” –W.B. Yeats

The great teachers in my life were great fire starters. They were passionate and dedicated, able to arouse my curiosity about a subject, about ways of looking at problems, and developing solutions. They helped me ask more questions, to hunger for even more knowledge and problem-solving tools. They believed in their students, and our potential.

“We are here to learn how to learn, a lifelong skill. We are here to develop your curious mind,” one of my college professors said.

The great teachers fired up the entire classroom, engaging all of us, honoring the skills and curiosity of each of us, teaching us how to work as a team, not leaving anyone behind on our journey to grow our minds and be better learners.

“It is the supreme art of the teacher to awaken joy in creative expression and knowledge.” — Albert Einstein

Today’s world challenges both students and teachers with a flood of information, challenging problems, and sophisticated advances in technology. Our teachers navigate this world with advancing teaching skills, while also dealing with often overwhelming social challenges that kids deal with. Our society demands a lot of our youth, socially and professionally. Jobs are increasingly demanding. Navigating relationships, family, and community is complicated. The learning curve is steep for all of us, and especially for youth.

The expectations and demands we impose on teachers are not often on our radar. We tend to take them for granted, expecting that schools are growing talented and skills workers of the future. We should be advocates for teachers, and ensure that they receive the support they need.

Great teaching and successful education depends on all of us, teachers, parents, family, neighbors, employers, co-workers. “It takes a village” is often seen as a cliché, but each of us truly has a stake in raising and educating the next generation of learners. Our future literally depends on this important work. All of us are play supporting roles for teachers. They need us to back them up, to advocate for them in their vital work.

The unsung heroes in our community are now back at school, laying the groundwork for a successful year. We can all support that work, connecting with kids, talking with them about learning, about developing skills, about feeling valued and cherished as vital members of the community. We all need to be working to train the leaders of tomorrow, the essential workers, the skilled and innovative work force that will contribute even more to society, making a better world. Yes, it does take a community to raise a child.

My high school class, my friends, my community are all better off because of great teachers, and a community that believes in education, in lifting all of us up. Today, I thank my teachers, and all the teachers in our community and nation for all their contributions and sacrifice, their determination, and their devotion to kids.

Teaching is not a calling to which everyone can rise. The hours are long, the challenges sometimes daunting. Kids have a variety of learning styles, abilities, and challenge teachers on many levels. Yet the rewards are many. Often, the fruit of their labors may take years to ripen. Yet, lives are changed. The world can be a better place because of the work and dedication of a teacher.

I try to remember to say “thanks” to these brave and hard-working professionals, who are taking on one of our community’s most important tasks.

8/27/2023

Late

Breathless

The friend apologetic, running late

I was already almost there, saying I’d wait outside.

No worries. I had the time — maybe I should actually take it.

Empty picnic table, ocean view, sunny June day, nothing truly urgent —

Just be, just enjoy, just to be present,

To catch my own breath, experience the

Moment.

Live.

We are here only for an instant, often

Running, forgetting to watch

The waves build, break, to come again,

Endless rhythm, dependable

Soothing and calm.

I learn to wait, to simply be

To just experience, feeling the calm, the

Energy of the day, of the eternal waves

Running up the beach, sparkling in the sun,

In the moment.

—Neal Lemery 6/11/2023

Lost, Then Found

by Neal Lemery

(Published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, May 17, 2023)

Life is always teaching me lessons. I can get lost, or lose something I think is important, a treasure that is valuable to my life. In the process of the “hunt” of what was lost, I learn something about me. And that can either be insightful, or humbling, and usually both of those thought processes, both of those “evaluation of self” experiences.

I was out in the woods the other day, looking for flowers to photograph. It was an amazing spring day. I was soon in the “zone” of looking for the perfect flowers, the ideal forest scene, complete with dappled sunlight and warm breezes. Time disappeared and I was having a bonding experience with my camera, thinking I was capturing some great images and improving my photography skills.

Happy with my results, I came back to my truck to stash my gear. Joy and contentment quickly turned to disappointment and a feeling of disgust with myself. A lens cap had disappeared. I’d been proactive, attaching an elastic cord and to the cap and the lens, so the item wouldn’t stray. Part of my photographic rituals is to always recap my lenses, to the point that I’d call myself obsessive about that.

Now, the lens cap was gone, and the only one to blame was me. I’d gotten in a hurry, got distracted, and got myself lost in the photographer’s “zone” of trying to capture the perfect photo. I retraced my steps in that spot in the woods, coming up empty. Mentally, I retraced the last hour, remembering that I’d had the cap at the previous stop, that I’d felt it come unattached, and that it hadn’t been on the camera at this viewpoint. I also realized I hadn’t been paying attention, that I’d lost touch with my tools, and my creative process.

Like most times I lose something, it was my doing, my responsibility for getting distracted, sidetracked by whatever creative process or action I was trying to accomplish in the moment. I quickly shifted into “coulda, woulda, shoulda” thinking, blaming myself for being an idiot, careless and forgetful. I can easily catastrophize the most insignificant events, and invite the Grim Reaper to show up, telling myself I am an abject failure at life.

I’m good at that self-blaming, and not allowing myself to be kind to me, to engage in some old fashioned and much needed self-forgiveness.

We are talking about a $10 item, at most, and it is not like this was a life and death mistake, or that the world would come closer to an untimely end because of my stupidity. I can be harsh with myself, and I’m not a gentle taskmaster when it comes to my own actions or mistakes.

I had to stop a minute and have a little talk with myself, calming myself down. It was not the end of the world. It was not a tragedy of significance. It was not a major character flaw on my part, bringing me to shame and great moral blame. I wasn’t going to need to get down on my knees and beg anyone for forgiveness. And the Sheriff wouldn’t need to show up and look down on me or take me to jail. Life would go on. And, not anyone else would even bother to look up and listen to my tale of woe.

I went back to the earlier scenic spot I’d come from. In a minute, I spied the errant lens cap and elastic strap, lying on the path where I’d dropped it, where it had parted ways from the camera lens, evading my attention. It was no worse for wear, just a little dusty from the path. I reunited it with my camera lens and all was right in the world. The earth hadn’t stopped revolving on its axis, the day had continued. No one else seemed to be upset, or angry, or even affected by my little act of negligence and forgetfulness.

Again, I learned the lessons of self-forgiveness, understanding of what happens if I don’t pay attention, or get distracted. And, most importantly, I again learned the lessons of appreciating magnitude, the relative importance of what goes on in our lives, how we deal with the stresses of modern life, and how we can so easily turn a minor event into a full-blown disaster, when that level of reaction is so not appropriate, and so unnecessary.

I can easily go from zero to sixty in a heartbeat, moving quickly into panic mode, into beating myself up, into an all out blame game.

Or not. It has been a been a beautiful day. I was out in it, enjoying it, trying to capture some of the beauty for others to enjoy. And, I quickly jumped into disaster mode, losing sight of what was really happening, how I could easily manage this “disaster” and move on with my life.

I learned again some good lessons about me, how I respond to an act of distraction and forgetfulness, that I am worthy of treating myself gently, with kindness.

And, I got to revisit a beautiful place. I took some more pictures. They were better pictures than what I had taken during the first visit. I accomplished better photography, with a renewed appreciation of the values of patience, and understanding of me. In all that, it was a good lesson, and a good day. I’d lost some of me, and then found something even better.

Video: A reading from Be the Change: One Random Act of Kindness at a Time

Listen to Neal as he talks about his new book and reads a chapter.

https://youtu.be/dYeQurowKFU

Towards Purposeful Work

(published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 3/29/2023)

by Neal Lemery

“The only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle.”

____ Steve Jobs

In every job I’ve had, I’ve tried to find purpose, joy, and a sense of worth. A worth in both the task and in shaping me into a better, more skilled and knowledgeable person.

“Did I create value today, did I make it better?”

And “it” has many different meanings. Did I improve my boss’ business? Did I serve someone well? Did my work better some condition or circumstance? Did the community benefit? Did someone else benefit or grow? Did I grow? Did I develop better skills? Was there value in what I did?

On a deeper level, did I advance myself, or others? Did I advance a better idea? Did I teach? Did I learn? Did others learn? Is the world a better place for what I did today?

Now when I fill out government forms, I say I’m “retired”, but that’s a misnomer. The nearly full calendar on the refrigerator and the to do list tells me that I’m anything but “retired”. I’m busy as I want to be, and that’s the real gift of retirement. The person who schedules my life isn’t someone else in the office. It’s me. I get the final say. And, if I don’t like what I am doing, the buck stops with me. My whining won’t play well on Facebook.

I do take the occasional day off, and I sometimes stop doing something simply because it no longer brings me joy. Hopefully we all do that, and we follow Steve Jobs’ advice, feeling free to be able to move on to better ourselves and the community.

Some friends who apparently don’t know me very well ask what is there to do in a small town. I can only laugh. While we have fewer people and maybe fewer outlets for volunteers and the ability to be involved than the big city, there seems to be unlimited potential to contribute, and to change the world, at least change my village.

As Margaret Mead said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed individuals can change the world. In fact, it’s the only thing that ever has.”

If I want to be rebellious or ornery (or, to be polite, “purposeful”), I’ll engage with just a few people, and foment a different idea or a radical thought or action. It might catch fire, and thereby change things. If I want a more satisfying life, or a better community, I need to look into the mirror and take action.

As we were leaving a now regular community event that several people had recently started up, a new resident remarked, “You need to make your own culture here.” Yes, in many ways if you want something to happen, it often starts with yourself, or your determination to find what you want to do right here.

We’re here to make a difference, and the time to act on that is today.

3/29/23

Work Your Hard

by Neal Lemery

(Published in the Tillamook County Pioneer, 3/11/2023)

Sometimes, it seems easy to skip over the hard stuff, to ignore the “to do” list, those nagging chores and obligations, and go do something else, anything else.

I’m full of excuses. Yesterday, I got most of that chore stuff done. Most of the “to do” list is done, it’s not my night to cook dinner so I can take it easy. I deserve some time off. I’m retired so I don’t have to do that. I need a break. I did a lot yesterday so I can goof off today. I need some thinking time. I’m waiting for a new idea.

That’s not due until next week. I can slack off. I’m waiting for someone else to do what they need to do first.

That’s an impressive list of excuses. I should keep that around. It might come in handy.

Yet things crop up. Situations come up demanding a response, an action, and I usually bite on that. The old work ethic kicks in and I start to feel responsible again, accountable for what I did today.

Yesterday, a friend sent me a blog post they had crafted. It was compelling, moving, and completely caught me off guard. The ideas, the sentiment touched my heart, and I wept. Should I respond? How could I not?

I had a mission now, a purpose to my day. I had thought what I had already done in the day had been enough, that there were enough check offs on the to do list to merit a “well done today”, a day that was purposeful, and now I could just float.

But, no, my friend had to send me that amazing piece of writing, and stir me up. I had to respond in my own words. The topic provoked a long time story in my own life. I needed to write my own story on the topic. And, I realized it was now the time. I couldn’t be putting it off, because my friend was calling me out, daring me to respond, to react, to put my long-simmering jumble of thoughts into action, into something I needed to express.

Not that my friend was nagging me. They are not a nagger. They lead their life by example, by “showing, not telling”, living the writer’s creed of “show, don’t tell”, the core of good writing. They’d be offended if I said that they made me sit down and work on the story I needed to tell, to find the right words, and to actually commit thought to what needs to go on paper, or in a computer file.

If there’s a nagger in my life, it is likely me. I can be a strict taskmaster.

I sat down and did the work. It was easier than I thought. I realized that my brain had been working on this for a while, that it was half-written by the time I created a computer file and started to type. I dove in, slipping into that creative space where time warps and bends, the blinders go on, and I ease into my own little world.

In such times, the magic comes, and whatever conscious filter I might employ to fine tune and craft my ideas becomes blocked, and what is truth and what I really need to say emerges. Writers can call that their Muse, and writing becomes a metaphysical, spiritual experience. I move into the “zone”.

That was my destiny yesterday, and I was doing the work that truly needed to be done. Later, I emerged, genuinely surprised and pleased with the project, with my work. My soul had done some hard work, and I half expected to see bloody fingers and crying eyes.

This morning, I read my work again, and was pleased. It was good work, long overdue, and much needed by me. I had been able to write what I had been struggling with in how to tell this story, for many months. Well, to be truthful, for it was a story of family life and family secrets, and how I needed to respond to all that over much of my life. It was a long overdue storytelling.

My blogger friend had suggested a place for such stories, and I followed their lead, sending my work to a place where it might do some good, to help others understand and to heal their own wounds.

The day turned into a wondrous productive day, and something came of it that was unexpected, and worthy of a useful, meaningful, and beautiful day, no excuses needed.

3/10/2023

Quiet Time and Simple Gifts

by Neal Lemery

(Published 2/26/23 in the Tillamook County Pioneer)

I had a lot of quiet time this past week. A vigorous snowstorm moved in, dumping nearly a foot of snow, followed by temps in the teens. The power went out for about thirteen hours, rendering the usual distractions of technology silent.

We moved to alternative energy sources, still able to make coffee and dinner, and to keep somewhat warm by adding sweaters, coats, and blankets. The world grew quiet, and I found myself frequently looking up from my book to watch the snow fall and the world turn whiter.

The daily drive to town for mail and some errands was put on hold as the pickup became buried in snow, and roads turned into a slippery mess, with the Sheriff urging everyone to stay home. Businesses closed and parking lots and side streets went unplowed, buried in the new white fluff. What had been demanding and insistent obligations became something for next week. Now, it was time to stay home and be quiet. What had been important and compelling just was put off until “later”.

I dug out my headlamp for evening reading, and savored the instant coffee heated by the propane stove. The neighborhood kids flew up and down the lane in their ATV, squealing with delight, failing to make a snowman in the powdery snow, yet finding laughter in their dog’s discovery of this new white stuff.

I contemplated happiness and the new slowness in the day, as snowflakes drifted down, adding to the grandeur of white.

“The secret of happiness is this: let your interests be as wide as possible, and let your reactions to the things and persons that interest you be as far as possible friendly rather than hostile.” —Bertrand Russell.

I moved between two books and a notepad, writing down some random thoughts. A friend had written that he was focusing on loving himself now, and finding new direction and ease in that mind shift, that reshaping of “purpose”.

Ah, loving myself. There’s an idea for a snow day, a day of moving the often urgent “to do” list down the road, just taking time to watch the snow fly, and the birds crowd the feeder, savoring the suet and the sunflower seeds I’d set out this morning, as I tramped a snowy path to their lunch spot.

My ukulele called, and I started playing some old songs. “Simple Gifts” caught my eye, and reminded me that everything about this day was a gift, that I was, indeed, in charge of my day and I could take time for what brought me joy, what brought me openings in life where I could appreciate what was right in front of me. The simple gifts of light, snow, quietness, contemplation, and some good books to savor.

Soon, lunch and a nap filled an hour. I had nowhere to go, nothing I absolutely had to do. I wrote a birthday card to a friend, and put in in the mail basket, not really caring that it wouldn’t go out today, but maybe tomorrow. I was OK with that. Life was slowing down to a manageable pace.

The power came on just before bedtime, assuring us of a warm winter’s night, and that the dishwasher would run tonight. We would have clean coffee mugs in the morning. I finished my book chapter by real electric light, finding new appreciation in the modern miracles of electric power and the internet.

The next morning, while making the bed, I raised the blinds. The overnight temp had dipped to a seasonal low of 19 degrees, and I spied the light from the sun, about to peak over the snowy mountains. I noticed hoarfrost on the window, spidery designs crawling up the window, silhouettes against the morning skyline.

I grabbed my camera, framing this artwork and capturing it, just before the sun rose and began to melt this “only for me” beauty. The camera made it more spectacular than I had originally seen, and I decided to share it with friends.

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This is what I do, apparently, when there is quiet and solitude, finding the spaces in my life to look for beauty in the simple things. Simple gifts, indeed. I only have to look for them.

2/26/2023