April 14, 2010

Centurians of Another Kind



Here are a few of my favorite online haunts:
[This is the site I visit to fantasize about living in Toronto again, which is almost every single day during the winter]

Jonathan Cainer's Zodiac Forecasts
[This is where I visit in the morning, when I need a positive spin on things past, present and future.]

Living Local
[This is where I go to see what Canadians are up to, sometimes I even buy things from the businesses listed there.]

Environment Canada Weather
[This is the site I visit every morning, and before every road trip during the winter]

The mirror tells no lies. Time has hidden my youth under layers of years. I would not tear those layers away, if I could.

It's a personal journey, this thing we call life.

When I think about it, life that is, I think about how finite it is, how short, chaotic, frightening, exhilarating, disappointing and surprising it can be. I think that it is not long enough, that our bodies age while our minds and spirits grow and flourish. How often I look in the mirror and think "Wait a minute, when did I get this old! I'm not ready to be old!" Ready or not, time happens to all of us, there are no exceptions.

What I think about most though, when I think about life and aging, is the people I have had the privilege to know and love. I do not easily fall in love, but when I do it is a deep and rooted thing. I love a lot of people, because I am old and have had time to meet and appreciate a lot of different people, in a lot of different kinds of lives that I've led in this particular journey on planet earth.

My first love, as with many, is my Mother, who carried the weight of my survival for many years. My maternal grandparents were special people, and my love for them is deep and abiding. They have been gone for decades, and are in my heart and my thoughts as I travel through this life. My siblings are all dear to me, all delightfully eccentric, all bright and loving and difficult and wonderful. These are the loves of my youth. It was an imperfect time, it was my time and I cherish it.

My two daughters came into my life as I struggled toward middle age. The responsibility of single parenthood was not easily carried; it was willingly carried. This is an intense love that has been tested and has held strong; defying malicious interference and threats of a very concrete nature. My daughters, like me, are highly individualistic and are very much themselves. Three strong and independent wills, intense love... interesting to say the very least!

Grandchildren, well that is a love that can not be adequately described with words. Luna and Janus bear the weight of the survival of those precious little souls; Attila and I, as a consequence, enjoy an unbidden, intense, unconditional and unabashedly joyful love for these bright little beams of sunshine.

It was my good fortune to experience a true "meeting of the minds" with several scholars at the University, whom I admired and who nurtured my talents and strengths. Their recognition and belief in my talent and ability were a gift. Interactions with them allowed me to hone my analytical abilities and self-discipline. They taught me how to navigate the tight constructs of academic knowledge. They were intellectual mentors and much-loved friends.

My friends are as the stars on a clear night; an infinity of unknowable intelligence. I love my friends. All unique, talented and fascinating in their particular perspectives on what it means to be alive. What I love most about my friends is that they are so... so very much themselves, and they allow me to be myself. It is not complicated, it is rare and priceless.

As for romantic love, there too I have been most fortunate. My first romantic love was a composer/singer/songwriter. We met while I was a single mother, raising my two daughters. He passed away in 1996, always remembered, forever loved.

Attila and I began our relationship as friends. I came to know, as time went by, that life was unimaginable without him. We have been together for many years now, and still, life would be unimaginable without him.

In the mirror, looking back at me, are eyes filled with reflections, reflections of the love that life has allowed me.

Love is not the whole story; it is the strongest story.

Top of Page

Worldly Distractions

Our lives will span a century!

Blue Train
Maura O'Connell

On The Screen
Last Chance Harvey
starring Dustin Hoffman and Emma Thompson

“Democracy is the art of thinking independently together”
Alexander Meiklejohn
If only!!!

6 C
Condition: Sunny
Pressure: 103.6 kPa
Visibility: 16 km
Temperature: 6.0C
Dewpoint: -0.7C
Humidity: 62 %
Wind: calm

Page by Page: A Woman's Journal
by Maggie Turner

Canadian Maggie Turner writes and publishes poetry, photography, and a personal journal online. Her work reflects the current way of life in Canada, embracing Canada's past, present, and future in a unique portrayal of everyday life. Maggie's voice is one of the many that actively depict the rich diversity of Canadian culture.

Photography: "a term which comes from the Greek words photos (light) and graphos (drawing). A photograph is made with a camera by exposing film to light in order to create a negative. The negative is then used in the darkroom to print a photograph (positive) onto light-sensitive paper.
Source: University of Arizona Glossary

Poetry: "a form of speech or writing that harmonizes the music of its language with its subject. To read a great poem is to bring out the perfect marriage of its sound and thought in a silent or voiced performance. At least from the time of Aristotle's Poetics, drama was conceived of as a species of poetry."
Source: Creative Studios

Journal: " "Though a journal may be many things - a treasury, a storehouse, a jewelry box, a laboratory, a drafting board, a collector's cabinet, a snapshot album, a history, a travelogue..., a letter to oneself - it has some definable characteristics. It is a record, an entry-book, kept regularly, though not necessarily daily.... Some (entries) will be nearly illegible, written in the dark in the middle of the night.... Not only is it a record for oneself, but of oneself. Every memorable journal, any successful journal, is honest. Nothing sham, phony, false...." (Dorothy Lambert from Ken Macrorie's book, Writing to be Read )
A journal is a way to keep track of your thoughts about what you read... as well as what you did on any given day."
Source: Journal Writing

A Blog is an online journal created by server side software, often hosted by a commercial interest.

"The term "weblog" was coined by Jorn Barger[4] on 17 December 1997. The short form, "blog," was coined by Peter Merholz, who jokingly broke the word weblog into the phrase we blog in the sidebar of his blog in April or May 1999.[5][6][7] Shortly thereafter, Evan Williams at Pyra Labs used "blog" as both a noun and verb ("to blog," meaning "to edit one's weblog or to post to one's weblog") and devised the term "blogger" in connection with Pyra Labs' Blogger product, leading to the popularization of the terms."

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