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No one’s been here that long
A mindfulness-for-anxiety perspective shift in modern life I’ve never done this before. Not just this writing. I mean this moment in time. And if I’ve never done this moment before, then (I imagine) neither have you. In fact, no one has. As far as I can tell. At the time of this writing, the oldest person alive was less than 117 years old. In the U.S., those over 100 account for about .03% of the population (though this number is on the rise). Globally, those over 100 account for about .01% (though this number is on the rise, also). Even with more centenarians alive today, that’s not a lot of…
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Through my mother’s eyes: the October Personas Project revisited
Sons and Mothers And here now is a twist to the October Personas Project: it was, in more ways than one, about my mother. Save the few sports, school, or recent photos, my mom was often the one behind the lens, snapping thousands of candid pictures. But pictures weren’t her only medium. My mom was crafty and very good with many things. Professionally, she was a recreational therapist who worked with the developmentally disabled. Personally, she was an exceptional seamstress who made quilts, scarves, and costumes (see the scarecrow image below, a personal favorite). Plus, when she lived in Germany I’m told she began making leather purses and belts. My…
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A few thoughts on the death of a parent
The meaning of life and death of a parent My mother died in February. The simple, clichéd truth is that the death of a parent changes your life. It’s not that everything changes exactly — many things stay the same — but rather that one’s experience of everything is altered. In losing a parent, the buffer between myself and my mortality is thinner. It’s always been thin, I suppose, but my understanding is more pronounced. In my mom’s death, my life is underscored. It will end. It’s hard to state the depth of this meaning. The feelings are much more complicated than a fear of dying (though the fear is…
