“If the world were merely seductive, it would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to save the world and the desire to savor the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.”

(E.B. White, NYT article by Israel Shenker, Notes and Comment by Author)

I love the written word, and every once in a while, I read a passage that gives me pause: Words that sit me back on my heels and say, "Pay attention to this. It’s important!” The words above are my most recent example of this. “My desire to save the world and my desire to savor the world,” it’s that simple and that complex, and does indeed make it hard to plan my day!  

As I’ve shifted into elderhood—a role I embrace and deeply enjoy, I encounter more and more the differing pulls that life now offers. I am blessed with the ability to entertain all: No longer having to pursue full-time work has opened me up to so much. I find myself excited to explore and refine what I have to offer to the world, gifts and talents that have sat on the shelf gathering dust for far too long. And, I am loving having more time to spend with my family and friends—traveling, visiting, and simply being. And, it is a joy to discover and rediscover interests and truly have time to explore them.

And—and this is the big “and,” each day begins with choices on how to spend the limited hours within. I want to both save the world and savor the world, and each intention could easily fill all the time available. I find myself seeking balance, knowing that as much as a want to stuff my days with goodness, too much of a good thing is no longer a good thing.

In writing these words, I recall an experience I once had during a storytelling & mirroring training offered by The School of Lost Borders. I was on a solo walk, reflecting on the morning’s teaching on the west shield (Nutshell version: In the teaching of The School of Lost Borders, the west shield is the part of a Native American medicine wheel connected to inner struggle and turmoil. It is a place of deep introspection and self-discovery, and encounters with personal wounds and challenges). For me, it was an opportunity to begin to heal my lost creativity (another story for another day). 

That day, I had found myself a place to sit—a large rock in the midst of a boulder field, at the foothills of the Inyo Mountains. I remembered our guide telling us that today’s task was to experience energy. Here’s what I wrote in my journal that day:

“I look up and am drawn to the boulders on the slope. I get up and have this feeling of wanting to touch every rock. I scramble and climb and touch the rocks, opening myself up, arms wide to the energy… I realize I don’t have to physically touch every rock to touch every rock and I reach out and touch the boulders with my energy and I see all the different ways of creativity and know I can appreciate and honor all but only need to engage in the ones I am called to.”

The trick for me is to remember: Too much of a good thing is no longer a good thing. I don’t have to touch every rock. I can see and honor all the ways to be creative but only engage in the ones I am called to. If I keep this in mind, I can save the world and savor the world.

And so, I find I can plan my day, and plan it well if I remember to be mindful of what I fill it with. Every day, I do my best to save my little corner of the world by sharing my gifts; I remind myself to savor my time with family and friends, and find time to engage with my interests. It is still simple and complex, and each day is a work in progress. It’s a practice for me, a practice of learning how to live into being an elder by discovering and rediscovering myself. Keep reading—I’ll keep you updated on how it’s going. Until then...

Keep sparkling!

Marta