Three Truths and One Wish

1. Truth: “my little world shattered / but the big world did not / not only did it have to carry on / it needed me to keep up with it / I was still supposed to care about / the little things that didn’t matter / wrinkled clothing and eye exams / the day of the week and unpaid bills.” Even though people like Oprah glory in the decade of 50 for women, marketing it as a time of freedom and fearlessness, for me it has been one of the most difficult eras of my life. Sure, it was a time when I took lessons and learned to swim, completed my 500 hour yoga teacher training and started teaching regularly, and retired from 20 years at CSU with the hopes of finally fully living as a writer and contemplative practice guide. And yet, it was also a time when I was clinically burnt out, in the thick of menopause, COVID happened and in those first few months one of my dogs and my sister-in-law died, I was hospitalized and had two surgeries, my dad was put on home hospice care and during that process my mom had a stroke and I was one of their primary caretakers during that time, my mother-in-law was hospitalized and died, and my mom’s health (mental and physical) continued to decline until she needed fulltime care and was placed in hospice but she “took too long to die” so recently we had to find another place for her to live while we were in the process of getting her house cleared out and ready to sell. Since the beginning of this year, we’ve been dealing with attempts to steal our credit, I got off my anti-anxiety meds (terrible timing), tried CPAP therapy only to fail and trigger a season of panic attacks and sleep issues, and after a biopsy and ultrasound I started having daily migraines that led to an MRI (“unremarkable”), and Ringo has had his own series of health issues that have required my close attention and effort. It’s been a lot, and not at all what I expected.

2. Truth: “but what about the tender things that did / the hungry bellies and global warming / violent war and finding cures for disease / rescued animals and community gardens / I wanted to carry more but my arms were broken / I wanted to keep helping but my heart was too.” That list above are the issues of “my little world” but there’s also the ways loved ones and those dear to me have struggled, and I don’t have to tell you, kind and gentle reader, of all the suffering and chaos happening in the rest of the world. At times, I am barely standing, can’t sleep or manage to take a shower or feed myself properly, but the desire to ease suffering in others and the world never leaves me. My therapist plays this trick on me where she asks, “if one of your students or a friend were struggling in this same way, what would you say to them?” I respond with such wisdom and compassion, AND I find it so hard to embody the same, to apply and experience what I know in my own life.

3. Truth: “I am now learning to be both / the lighthouse and the sinking ship / the beacon and the wreckage.” It doesn’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to be ready. Just start, just show up, and be honest about the difficulty because maybe that is exactly what someone needs to hear — not just the answer or the fix but also how hard it is, how messy and complicated. It’s hard for me to face it right now, hard for me to take care of myself, AND I’m not giving up. I hope you won’t either.

One wish: Maybe that’s my one wish, that even with our broken hearts and bones, we don’t give up. I was reading a Mark Nepo book this morning, a part where he says, “The instant a bone breaks, the two ends begin to reach for each other” and “The same mysterious force of life animates our hearts. When near the suffering of others, our inborn care will reach for others immediately if we don’t hesitate or block the love” (The Fifth Season: Creativity in the Second Half of Life, page 146). There’s nothing wrong with being broken and it is in our nature to move towards healing, to connect. Stay tender, keep your heart open, don’t give up. We need each other. Keep reaching out, don’t hesitate or block the love, learn to be the lighthouse and the sinking ship, the beacon and the wreckage. 

6 thoughts on “Three Truths and One Wish

  1. Kari's avatarKari

    I actually held The Fifth Season at my library earlier this week…

    The last ten years of my life have been the hardest too, and the last five have taken something out of me physically and mentally. Reading this, I felt that recognition in my body… that sense of trying to keep up with the world while something closer to home is falling apart.

    I don’t always share everything on my blog either. Sometimes the audience feels too close, like I’m still being seen by people who no longer belong in my life, and it makes me hold back parts of what is true. I stepped away from writing for a while because of that. I’m still learning how to let my voice be mine again.

    Some of the most meaningful people in my life are ones I’ve never met in person, and somehow they see me more clearly.

    The image of being both the lighthouse and the sinking ship will stay with me. There’s some relief in not having to choose.

    I won’t give up. I hope you won’t either. 😘💜

    Reply
    1. jillsalahub's avatarjillsalahub Post author

      It’s so good to hear from you! I know you’ve been posting less often to your blog and I’ve been thinking about you, sending you silent love.

      I will say, one thing I didn’t expect from the book, not good or bad, is that it’s almost more of a workbook, with each section ending with a prompt. That means that some of the sections have landed immediately with me while others feel like something I’ll come back to later, rather than every chapter building on a singular message (even though it is doing that too). I just read a section yesterday that was so exactly and perfectly timed, just what I needed to hear right now in this current moment, that it made the entire book worth the read for me.

      I don’t know about you, but I feel sort of like I’m experiencing a second “coming of age.” It’s like I was sent on a vision quest or a walkabout or a hero’s journey, being challenged in a way that is breaking me but I’ll come out of it whole instead of broken — or, at least I hope that’s how it works out!

      Hang in there, friend! 💜

      Reply
      1. Kari's avatarKari

        Ooh, I love a workbook. It sounds like I might need to purchase it rather than get it from the library—oh well, if I HAVE to. 🤣

        I do feel the coming-of-age thing a lot. I’ve definitely felt muted in year two of my dad’s death, and I’m still moving through that grief. I now understand when people say it gets harder as it goes along. It’s harder in quiet ways.

        I also know this deeper work we do isn’t a phase—that’s something I’ve had to tell myself. It’s lifelong work as part of being human, and I want to stop comparing my progress to others.

        I hope this makes sense.

I'd love to hear what you think, kind and gentle reader.