Gonzo Girl

“Look! bubbles! Can you say bubbles?” Our little granddaughter, just 16 months, laughs and runs over to pop a bubble. Then, smiles and yells, “bubba!”  Rick and I break out in a round of applause, smiles and words of encouragement. “Good job! That’s right! You did it!” What a feat.

What a grand moment. 

It used to be that my grand moments were much more grand. Scuba diving in Indonesia. Skiing through a crater. Trekking in Bhutan. Cycling across Europe. Admittedly, I have spent much time satisfying my adrenaline junky side. And, I am still happy to pursue such things. But I have changed since retiring and moving out to the country. While some of this is definitely attributed to a few years with a good therapist, I think it has more to do with aging. And it’s NOT just my body I’m talking about. 

Sure, my joints are starting to creak a bit. I love a concert that starts at 6pm and ends at 8pm. I’m not inclined to ski an expert run or “hit a jump”. (Ok, I will not be “hitting a jump” on purpose ever again.)  What has really changed is my outlook on life. I’m much more likely to celebrate the first shoots of my sweet peas or the hysterical antics or our neighbor’s goofy dog. 

But, not all grand moments are happy or exciting. Some are filled with great sadness and grief. The loss of a life, a future, a dream.  It seems that these are the moments that push us to a new level of understanding. That is, the understanding that “hitting that jump” doesn’t really matter much at all. The Buddhist expression, “No mud, no lotus.”, really starts to resonate after a person takes a few laps around the sun. 

It’s the realization that I have fewer of those laps ahead of me that makes paying attention to the moments right in front of me matter.  A lot. 

Clearly, some moments definitely deserve more of our attention than others. Figuring this out takes a bit of practice. I like to think of this discernment as a super power of oldness. The irony of course is that as my thinking and perspective become more nuanced and interesting, my body becomes more and more mundane, blending into the scenery as just another Grandma with gray hair and hearing aids. I love that my outer appearance does not give folks a clue about what’s happening on the inside. It’s the perfect disguise for someone deciphering the contradictions of our current times and sorting the chaff from the grain. 

Sometimes it takes extra thought and effort to determine what matters because the information is not clear. News and opinions often blend together in our modern version of media. And in this time which I call the “Not Golden Era”, we are in a position to question our own government, the one we trusted implicitly for so very long, to determine what is right, what is wrong, and ultimately, what matters.  

So underneath the dated hairdo, the fine wrinkles, the cracking voice, is an experienced soul who knows a little bit about grand moments. We oldsters are a vital force. Even a little scary. We know that we are mentors and role-models. Many of us are ready to leave a personal legacy of being on the right side of history. The side that recognizes that all are created equal. The side that wants the basics of food, shelter, education and healthcare available to all. The side that wants our grandchildren to have a future based on caring for humanity and our earth.  

And this means that some grand moments demand action. 

For me, I am certain of just a few things. One is that even small actions move us forward. I learned this at the gym where my mantra is “one sit-up is better than no sit-ups”. Simple. Tiny steps can walk the distance. So, I encourage you to talk about it. Go to a rally. Make a call. Forward an article.

Write a blog. 

It starts the momentum. 

Second. Don’t stop living. Have that bonfire, make a special dinner, take a walk and enjoy these joyful grand moments. In spite of it all, grab life as it is. The wonderful with the terrible. It’s the nature of life. Allowing for joy is one of the best ways to be a disruptor. Don’t submit to  the terrible. Instead, maybe we can allow the terrible to push us to a new level of understanding, solidarity and action. Where will this take us if we choose to stand together?

It’s time to pay attention, This is a moment that matters.

It’s entirely possible that one day, our descendants will look back and wonder, what Grandma did, or didn’t do, during the “Not Golden Era”. Was she like Betsy Ross, sewing the first American flag?  Was she like Harriot Tubman, risking her life to bring enslaved people to freedom?  Or, was she a debutante that focused on social status, happy to be complicit? 

Or, maybe just a Grandma, living a life of joy, speaking her mind and asking others to do the same. 

Finding small ways to make a difference during this grand moment.