Category: Health

A Break from Breaking News : Please!

A few months ago, I was discussing the concept of a column with an editor. She suggested ‘It’s Not Breaking News’ – seeing as that was the theme of the writing on my blog. I felt inordinately proud at that. I loved that my blog was perceived as such.

It got me thinking of all the things I looked forward to reading in newspapers as a child. My brother went for the Sports and Automobiles column, I went for the Humor and Science sections in The Hindu. It is why I still love the Open Page section of The Hindu and was so proud to have been published in it as an adult. Who said dreams did not come true?

I remember smiling at the Slice of Life column written by V Gangadhar every week. After all these decades, I may have forgotten the content of his columns, but I remember how it made me feel. Combined with the illustrations by R K Laxman, this was week-end magic – reminding us of the joys of human living.

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

― Maya Angelou

Jane Austen

I read in a book of essays on Jane Austen’s works, a few years ago, that one of the reasons for her enduring popularity is not because love and affairs of the heart were a novelty, or because there was no other material to choose from, but because of the gentle reassurance of the warmth of humanity.

Which makes sense. Since it wasn’t as though the world was peaceful or even that her own world was idyllic. I think her choice of theme was powerful – she chose the best themes of humanity to write about. After all, she lived in a time of slavery, spice wars, economic upheaval, and before antibiotics came on the scene – which meant there must have been plenty of personal tragedy in her circles as well.

A Jane Austen Education

Incidentally , it is her 250th birthday today, and I find myself thinking fondly of her humorous characters and wondering whether a snippet of Emma or Sense & Sensibility is on the cards for viewing – even if only for 20 minutes. Let me try my luck with the family. 

P G Wodehouse

The same can be said about P G Wodehouse’s choice of theme. Young love, satire about economic classes, and gentle mockery of perceived classes among human-beings. He lived through the horrific 1st and 2nd World wars. He was interned in 1942, and taken to Germany, where he lost over 60 pounds and in his own words, ‘looked like something  a carrion crow had bought in ‘ – a scarecrow. He lived through the most horrific times. He also experienced personal tragedy after losing his step-daughter Leonora – a daughter he adored. 

Do Not Hate in the Plural

Any of these writers could have taken any of the less savory topics – poverty, slavery, war, crime, misery, hunger, disease, imperialism – name your pick. But they chose to focus on the light, on the rewarding, on the beautiful nature of the human spirit that looks for happiness and peace.

When Humor Jumped in Neptune’s Pool

As Stephen Fry said on P G Wodehouse:

He taught me something about good nature. It is enough to be benign, to be gentle, to be funny, to be kind.

– Stephen Fry on P G Wodehouse

Please! No Breaking News!

In some ways, I think I try to do the same on my own modest scale with my writing. When the news is relentless. When I receive Breaking News multiple times a day, I think I yearn to give myself a small dose of what is important, and what is worth working towards – finer qualities of humanity and their spirit, nature, humor, friendship, camaraderie, family, books. 

I wish we could embrace more of these, so that we can find a way to get properly outraged when something horrific happens. As such, it is a brutalizing cycle of normalizing outrage. When the shooting at Brown University became news, how can the leader of a free country come out and say, “Things happen.” ?

Fallout after Trump’s critical statement about Rob Reiner

https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/politics/2025/12/15/donald-trump-brown-university-shooting/87772785007/

Why are we not more affected by it? 

A voice in my brain answers logically: Because the desensitization is deep.  Because you cannot be angry and upset all the time. Because action means nothing. Because this. Because that. Because.

What is the best medicine?

Then I stop to pause and reflect. The warm qualities of humanity is the best antidote. It is the only thing that matters in the end isn’t it?

It is why 250 years later, we still relish a Jane Austen movie’s nth remake. It is why we still laugh at the absurdities of life as outlined by P G Wodehouse, Jerome K Jerome, Miss Read, R K Narayan, Gerald Durrell and stalwart authors who do the difficult job of finding light and keeping us hopeful through it all.

Breaking News is bleh. The lack of Breaking News is what we have to strive for.

“Be the reason someone smiles. Be the reason someone feels loved and believes in the goodness in people.”
― Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart

So, my questions for you:

  • What is the source of reading that serves as the light in your life?
  • What is it that you look forward to rather than dread?

The Magic Faraway Tree

I loved the Inside Out 2 movie – the one in which the newly minted teenager has a new range of emotions available to her, and the old ones either have a tough time acknowledging them or making space for them. In the movie, Nostalgia comes knocking the door too, and the other emotions all tell her that she’s got time. Nostalgia is for when you get older. 

Well, guess I have gotten older. December has become the time for nostalgia.

While younger, the Decembers seemed far and few between. But as I grew older, I noticed a familiar lament in my December posts – “Where did the year go?” Did it really go all that quickly? Every year, I asked the same – only I seem to be asking it more frequently. It is all very confusing. 

A time for nostalgia:

When I was around knee high, it was the time I waited to clamber up the Magic Faraway tree in my imagination. Winter vacations meant lots of winds, and rains thanks to the North East Monsoons in Nilgiris. This was the perfect excuse to imagine going to visit strange worlds everyday over the clouds, and far away. I am really excited to see that the movie about The Magic Faraway Tree is finally coming in Mar 2026. 

The Magic Faraway Tree | Official Teaser Trailer | Claire Foy, Andrew Garfield

I would love to see what they do with a generation of adults who all were enthralled with the stories, and are now trying to convince their children to try it out. But those of us who grew up loving the stories of Moonface, Silky, Saucepan Man and the many lands above the tree can relate to the term ‘life-changing’ being used for this series. I confess that when I gaze up redwood trees and tall giants,  I wonder about the lands above the clouds.

A time for resolutions:

We live in an era of social media. I don’t think there is any escaping that. I don’t know where we go from here. But what we thought of as spheres of influence etc are fluid, and not at all easy to understand. 

So, I thought about grand resolutions like ‘No social media’ etc, but I wanted to do something that wasn’t the equivalent of sticking my head in the sand and hoping the storm would blow away. 

It occurred to me while watching the trailer for The Magic Faraway Tree movie. It is a bold move to try to capture the magic of what a generation of adults felt as children in movie-form. After all, it was our generation that was enthralled with Enid Blyton’s Magic Faraway Tree. I know I have had to convince my children to read the books, because they had Harry Potter growing up. 

How easy is it to judge or critique someone? So instead this year, I am going to try and appreciate all that goes into making bold moves. The adults who grew up loving The Magic Faraway Tree will be the bulk of the movie-goers. Many of these adults would have navigated life for a few decades now – some world weary waiting to see if the world still can bring that touch of magic to them, some cynical to the point of wondering whether there is anything good left in this world, some still hopeful and loving – nurturing the soft wondrous parts of life in them. The movie has to kindle magic in all of them. That is a bold move.

What are you nostalgic about and what are your resolutions for the New Year?

Novembers Blues and Joys

Describing a Blue Sky

It’s hard to not fall in love with rain-washed November mornings in California. I remember once as a child being asked to describe a sky of indescribable beauty and getting frustrated. The sky was blue. But it was a blue that was not just a color, it made you feel happy! What was the color of that blue?

I felt that way this morning too.

The blue made me feel the opposite of blue. No one who has experienced this blue would attribute sadness to ‘feeling blue’. So what gives? When language is not enough, maybe the fluttering of the golden thrush is enough. For that’s how it feels – to swoop and dance through the air.

The leaves are beautiful, star-shaped, hues of green, yellow, orange, red and maroon with little sunbursts through their leaves sparkling and shining to uplift your day. Peering through that riot of color to the blue sky – how does one describe that?

Prized Priceless

That’s when I noticed the helicopter flying low, and I peered up at it, and feeling like a toddler asked to point at the helicopter in the sky, waved at it. Of course, it was at that very moment that our empty suburban streets produced neighbors walking on the streets. I smiled sheepishly at them, and said, “A day that makes you want to wave at helicopters isn’t it?”

They exchanged a swift, almost imperceptible look of concern, and then being the kind folks they are, arranged their features to polite interest, and said, “I think there is a police chase going on. We saw several police cars earlier today.”

Oh.

If people ask me at the beginning of the day how I plan to make a prized fool of myself, I am not sure I could tell you. These things are not planned. There is an innate talent to these things.

I didn’t know what to say to that. I goggled a bit at them, and felt my cheeks brightening to match the color of the maroon leaves through which the sunbursts looked splendid.

“So! Have you seen what they are planning to do for the park?”

Adulting in November

I recovered and walked home, though, the nincompoop before this little social chat might’ve skipped home. Really! Sometimes being an adult can be very restrictive. I thought of Anne of Green Gables – I felt for this girl so much just then.

“Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it… yet.”

― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

Just before I closed the door though, a beautiful butterfly and am engaging hummingbird seemed to understand what I was feeling as they flitted around the flower patch, and the trees nearby.

I watched them go, and then grateful that I got to step out at all, headed inside.

Feeling blue? Take a walk and wave at passing helicopters will you? The November world around us works like a charm.

🦢🦢🦢 A Pod 🦢🦢🦢, 🥁🪘🪵 A Drumming 🥁🪘🪵, and a  🦅 ☕🦅 A Kettle 🦅 ☕🦅 

It isn’t often that one feels like the poet, Mary Oliver. The October mornings are starting to feel crisp, and then one remembers that this is California – so we have a beautiful mix of windy, cloudy, frosty, and this year, rainy days. 

🥁🪘🪵 A Drumming 🥁🪘🪵

The vibes that morning seemed to be around the themes of: Ready to bear moisture, and don the colors of autumn. Some trees had started turning orange, and the little family of woodpeckers I stopped to observe on my morning walk had me enthralled. There is something about the morning sun through the orange leaves, and little downy woodpeckers flitting and pecking their way through their morning that has to be experienced. They are called a descent of woodpeckers, or a gattling or a drumming of woodpeckers. I like the last term more – suits their percussion band theme. 

The trees reached and yearned for the blue skies, the birds tittered and chattered. I couldn’t say they sounded happy exactly, but they sounded content. The Earth around me at that point felt content to be part asleep, part awake. 

🦢🦢🦢 A Pod  🦢🦢🦢

Thinking of this and that, I made my way to a little spot I knew was favored by pelicans for their spot of morning fishing. Watching pelicans do a spot of coordinated fishing is one of the best experiences of nature. For all these men and their wars and their power trips, they should learn a lesson or two from a pod of pelicans. 

Glide, swim, swoop,

Glide, swim, swoop,

Glide, swim, swoop,

Glide, swim, swoop

Ballerinas and group dancers they are – It isn’t a rhythmic time-based swoop, for sometimes, they glide, glide, swim, and then swoop. 

Community creatures they are, and so totally in sync with each other, it is a joy to watch their companionship. Maybe they are territorial with their nesting and breeding grounds, but they also have an immense sense of taking care of each other.  

https://nourishncherish.org/?s=coordinated+fishing

🦅 ☕🦅 A Kettle 🦅 ☕🦅  

By the time I came home, my spirits were soaring with the kettle of hawks overhead. Hawks really do have a musical cry. They swooped and cried high in the skies, and really, they could be called a Swoop of Hawks. The agility!

Musical cries, percussion bands and group dancing is more than a morning’s worth of excitement, don’t you think?

A pod, a drumming and a kettle put me in mind for a hot cuppa tea, and I bustled into the kitchen full of purpose. A few minutes later, I sat sipping my brew content in the knowledge that mornings like this are not easy gifts. They are meant to be savored one precious breath at a time. After all, poetry, music, orchestra and words can only try to capture beauty.

Bring in the Horses!

“We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art, and very often in our art, the art of words.”

Ursula K. Le Guin

What will we fill our heads with?

This is an oft remembered quote for me. Every time I see patterns of behavior that I hope will be changed for humanity’s arc, I think of this. Sometimes, in order for things to change, it has to reach levels of intolerable.

Maybe that is where the attention industry will reach, and it this feeling of overwhelm that will herald in a new system of reward.

We had our hands full with survival in humanity’s infancy,  
   we filled our heads with myths and legends of heroism, superhuman strength, superhuman abilities.

We evolved and figured out ways of relatively sustainable food sources, 
   we filled our heads with epics, art, and music.

We figured out mass production,
   we  filled our heads with science fiction and fantasy seeking out other planets, other environments.

We figured out how to amass our thoughts and search/retrieve with ease, 
   we filled our heads with social media.

We are figuring out meta-cognition,
   what will we fill our heads with then?

Some days it isn’t the woodpecker who brings on the musing. It is the memory of a gas station.

The gas-station quandary

I had stopped the other day at a gas station (for gas – the clarification is necessary. These days we can stop at gas stations for milk, chips, entertainment and so much more) . Now, I don’t know about you, but I usually like to see the steady increase in the gas the tank is taking in. 12.00, 12.11, 12.12, 12.13, 12.14, 12.14, 12.15, 12.16.

A smile on my face when I see our car gulp in the gas like it’s a thirsty horse after a long run. The silly comparison makes me cringe a little, yes, but then I had seen a few horses trot in their pasture once just before stopping to fill gas, and often when the mind wanders at a gas station, I think of these chestnut beauties throwing their manes back and feeling the breeze.

But the other day, my attention was pulled towards a screen perched over the meter showing me advertisements on what they think should occupy my attention for the three minutes I was there. Combined with all the flashing billboards, and the moving screens, and the flashing games mobile phones are full off, I felt off-kilter. 

How did we get here? 

When did attention become such an important commodity that we sacrifice almost everything at its altar? Peace, quiet, steady study, calm, concerted effort – everything giving way to drama, loudness, frenzied movement, and quick reward systems. 

What can be done so that the opposite is rewarded again? For it is clear we are driven by reward. 

Can there be a small quiet reward to our brain when we quieten a loud intrusive distraction? 

Bring in the horses

I smiled at that. “Monkey brain!”, I chided myself. Though I have to admit, I am not sure what the attention span of monkeys are. I hope monkey mothers are not yelling at their children as we speak – “Human-brain! Distracted all the time. Swing. Leap. Onward and forward!”

I forced myself to bring in the mental image of the horses I had seen all those years ago before getting to a gas station, and they came. Reluctantly at first. CNN was asking me to get affronted about something, and thoughts of monkeys and horses could not pull me away easily. But they finally did. They cantered into the mind’s eye, like William Wordsworth swaying daffodils, and the brain quietened down. The green pastures the horses trotted in bursting with flowers, and I felt a calm. By the time I pulled out of the gas station, I had needed help from a menagerie to pluck my attention.

What would it take to become focused on something so beautiful and deep, that nothing matters?

How many of you are flibberty-gibbets? What would the social order be to reward that and what would be incentive enough to disrupt our current trend?

An Enchanted Adventure: A Journey Through Children’s Books

Mystique & Intrigue for an Adventurer & Explorer

“I am going to indulge myself in something that I haven’t had the chance to do in some time!” I said – throwing it over my shoulder casually in a manner intended to intrigue and mystify.

“Going to the library? Good job ma!” said the son, and I moaned. Mystique and I. My foot. 

I guarded the time I had between a drop-off and pick-up session like it was precious (because it was) and headed towards the library. I fended off requests for the grocery store, deftly ducked under an amazon return order request, and dodged an enticing offer to search for missing documents in the house. 

When finally I walked into the cool library that hot summer evening, I felt something like an adventurer. An explorer who found their way to treasured lands. It was beautiful.

The display stacks groaned with new children’s titles, the popular books section assured me that the authors displayed there had been continuing to do their good work of broadening children’s minds. 

I cannot adequately state how marvelous it all is. 

The hot evening outside meant I picked up books with illustrations with cooler themes in illustration. Sleepy dreamers, cozy woodland creatures, forests in fall, the gleam of windows in the night, the beautiful shapes of the stars in the night sky. The here-and-now of long summer days has us all yearning for these themes, I suppose. 

As I gazed down at an illustration in the book, Every Color of Light – by Hiroshi Osada, I closed my eyes for a moment thinking of the evening we went in search of the stars. Specifically, Delta-Cep in the Cepheus constellation. 

Version 1.0.0 – from Amazon page

Delta Cep in the Cepheus Constellation

The son was bemused at how enthusiastically we wanted to help in this particular homework assignment. He, of course, in the innocence of youth cannot understand our childish enthusiasm for learning new things, finding out about new things. “Did you know that if we scale our universe, if the solar system is a football field in California, the nearest star, Alpha Centauri, is in the East Coast of America?” 

“Really?”

See? Amused at the awe shining like Alpha Centauri on our faces. 

Anyway, he said it was difficult to find Delta Cep in the summer skies because of the light pollution in city areas. It isn’t the brightest star system.  The husband asked his talented photographer friends for the best places to go, and off we went. For half an hour, we forgot about all the travails that seemed to be whipping our daily worlds. Maybe Delta-Cep had a better time of it. A place where peace and harmony prevailed. A star-system in which the greatest turmoils were mild-summer-breezes that rippled through their atmospheres. 

That is the power of story-telling isn’t it? The ability to transport us to realms other, feelings exalted, and wholesome?

Farmhouse Menagerie

I picked up the book on cozy woodland creatures, Woodland Dreams – by Karen Jameson pictures by Marc Boutavant

What whimsical names would you give our fellow creatures? Karen’s names were fascinating: Fox (Swift Legs) , Fish (Shiny Scales), Deer (Tiny Hooves), Woodpecker (Strong Beak)

Come Home – Swift Legs

Furry Schemer 

Red-tailed Dreamer

  • Karen Jameson, Picture by Marc Boutavant

The lyrical poems she gives for each creature was enough to bring a smile.

It got me thinking: What would you name some of your fellow creatures? I have always loved listening to the names people give their pets. The daughter had quite the list, and I must say, some of them made me sit up and listen. The menagerie she had in mind for her horses, dogs and cats, reminded me of the little girl whose stories as a girl all involved moving to the countryside, and a horse in the stables revealing themselves to be a unicorn only to her. There is a sweetness to thinking like that. A simple yearning.

The feeling of a children’s book

And so it went, a little reverie of my own every time I picked up a book. It was the rare book that disappointed. Most children’s books had a sweet emotion it evoked – warmth, beauty, companionship, safety, love, growth. 

It only seemed right that I finished my stash for the evening with the book, Grow Grateful – – By Sage Foster-Lasser and  Jon Lasser, PhD. Illustrated by Christopher Lyles

“So, how was it?” said the son as I picked him up. 

“It was amazing! I wish you could’ve come!” He beamed. “Yes, next time. Tell me which ones did you like the best?”

I told him about all the ones I had read, and we chatted about them all the way home. He listened, an indulgent look on his face, and I felt a pang – he was growing and children’s books seemed childish to him just now as a newly minted teenager with a reputation to grow into.  I hope he’ll come back to them one day like C S Lewis said to his niece for whom he had written The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe

“Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” C S Lewis 

The Old Man with a Dog

The Old Man With a Dog

“You know that old man with a dog? He spoke to me the other day, I was pleasantly surprised by what an interesting conversation it turned out to be.” said the husband, sounding impressed. 

I nodded, adding, “I read an article that hit this problem on the head: It is the fact that we truly become invisible as we age.” 

I hastened to explain as we leaped past the nightly sprinklers that had started up. The horologist’s gleaming success – timed sprinklers. Anyway. “Our achievements, our agility, or even our experiences fade to the background. You become that old man with a dog. He could have been a scientist in a space program, or a high-ranking official in some administrative service, a doctor, or a professor/teacher. But none of that matters – a true lesson in time and humility and all of that.”

The husband looked thoughful, and I waited. 

“Yes – I always only had the time for a hello, and a how-are-you. Never really stopped to talk to him.”

aging

On the way from somewhere to something

I nodded. We all do the same. On the way from somewhere to something. 

From there, our conversation went on to how we may, in our times, in our awesome ways, not fall into the same traps. 

Except that we will. 

We already do. 

“Old age is always fifteen years older than I am.”

– Oliver Wendell Holmes

We may even be hastening and accelerating towards it just like we accelerated and hastened towards everything in life. It is why we feel the sting when we don’t understand the emoji-lingo anymore. It is why we feel bewildered, and scramble to understand when a new career path we’ve never heard of before, comes up for discussions by the younger ones in our lives. 

Gerascophobia is real.

Aging brings with it frailty. 

Failing health means a fall from the bed after an afternoon nap, or the unexpected reaction to a medication. Somehow, life manages to strip everything away from us.  Degrees, achievements, resumes – everything whittles down to blood pressure and blood sugar readings.

“It’s paradoxical that the idea of living a long life appeals to everyone, but the idea of getting old doesn’t appeal to anyone.”

– Andy Rooney

So, how may we stay relevant? 

A few people in my parent’s generation still retain the spark. They work towards spreading cheer, being loved and loving, and retaining their intellectual curiosity in ways that means they have defied age in a way. They are the ones who still bring a smile to our faces when we think of them. It seems like a simple thing to do, but it isn’t.

Maybe that is the change in life’s purpose. Learning to cultivate joy in the small moments, so we may remember to be happy when invisibility hits, when loneliness hits, or when health fails. 

“There is a fountain of youth: it is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring to your life and the lives of people you love. When you learn to tap this source, you will truly have defeated age.” – Sophia Loren

Humans of New York kind of initiatives show us the stories behind everyone.

P.S: The article ( I truly wish I had saved the link, but I didn’t. So, if someone knows the article I am referring to, please let me know, and I shall link it here. ) was a well-written one that had me nodding in several places.

Read Also: Toby Turtle’s Lessons on Life – Nourish-n-Cherish

Mellow Joys: Strolls in the Moonlight

Mellow Joys

The week-end evening was pleasant after a hot week, I sat relishing the quiet: the especially large magnolia blossom on a tree, the clouds in their pinks, lilacs and greys before they embraced the inky blues of the night, and the gentle breeze through the leaves and waters nearby. It truly was idyllic. 

The long summer days always make me yearn for the different colors of dusk and night. Our home is bright and filled with natural light which is a blessing, but it also means that late risers like Yours Truly do not get to the see the colors of dawn. The days start with light and then go on burning bright with every passing hour. 

Last night, I had time on my hands. I watched the dusk turn to night. A slow stroll through the moonlit streets of our neighborhood made for a different rhythm. There was a mellow joy to it – not boisterous, but buoyant. Moonlight can be tender, but it also can throw everyday objects into harsh contrast. 

Not just our homes but our heavens too

Maybe it was the lackadaisical nature of the stroll – one I rarely permitted myself to do. Brisk walks, phone calls while walking, chatting – they were all absent. I watched a cloud flit over a sinister looking tree, and looked on passively as an owl flew past and perched itself on the very tip of the tree-top. We stood there each surveying the other, and finally, of course, I lost. Can we ever win out against the stillness of predators? 

I heard the sounds of animals scurrying outside – every sense accentuated by the lack of electric light. Even the olfactory senses seemed to be enjoying this – Some flowers that wafted their fragrance only into the night, and I stopped to sniff and smile every so often. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the owl swoop. 

“Our village of Fairacre is no lovelier than many others. We have rats as well as roses in our back gardens…. But at times it is not only home to us but heaven too; and this was just such an occasion.”

― Miss Read, Over the Gate: A Novel

Asrais magical in the moonlight

Reluctantly, I headed back into the home, and insisted on switching off all the lights for the rest of the evening. Even when I watched a movie with the windows open, I kept sneaking glances at the moonlight pouring in through the slats in the window. 

The evening reading fare was equally marvelous. A magical book with fantastic beasts, beautiful illustrations, and oh so much imagination! What a book, Stephen Krensky!

The Book of Mythical Beasts & Magical Creatures – By Stephen Krensky

On the different kinds of fairies, Stephen Krensky has this to say on the Asrai:

Asrai are rare creatures that live in the water and only come to the surface once every hundred years. Asrai grow only by the light of the moon, and if exposed to sunlight, dissolve into the water and are never seen again.

-Stephen Krensky on the Asrai Fairies

When I read about the magical Asrais, I felt it was time now to go to bed and continue the beauty of simply watching the moonlight through the windows. Maybe it had been an evening when an Asrai had come out to the bless the lands. Who knew?

Halcyon Days: Myths and Realities of Cloudy Moods

☁️The Colors of Cloudy Days 🌫️

Sometimes, I see how much of a spoiled brat I am. What I am about to say falls squarely in that category, and I shall say it anyway. The Californian summers seem to drag on. It feels especially so at the end of August. They are warm, bright, sunny, but not too hot.

📚The school’s summer vacations are over. But the summers aren’t. 

🩴The summer clothing is supposed to be winding down, but I can never bear to look at anything other than some flowy cotton with any fondness. 

🌷The summer flowers are still blooming on every shrub, plant, tree and pathway. 

While I mostly enjoy this halcyon time of the year, I also wouldn’t mind a few days of summer rain. Or even some cloudy skies. 

That was probably why I had not the heart to come in this particularly overcast morning. The clouds made an excellent background. The flowers that we see on our walks everyday were still there – but they looked more fresh, more vibrant. The angel’s trumpet flowers that we admire everyday looked more angelic than usual. The chamomiles looked more soothing – their purples against the sombre greys. As your eyes zoomed to the skies, the jacaranda tree’s flowers attracted your eyes to their purples too. Really these color combinations look marvelous against the grey. 

Shouldn’t cloudy days be called halcyon days? I mused. 

Are Halcyon Days Myths?

I came and idled with ‘halcyon days’ floating in and out of my consciousness. What I stumbled upon made it so. 

Halcyon itself referred to a species of bird that nested in the oceans during the winter solstice and were supposed to charm the wind and the waves into a calm. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Halcyon_(genus) the halcyon bird owes its naming to a Greek myth involving the wrath of the Greek Gods, Alcyone & Ceyx. 

Somehow Alycone and Ceyx managed to anger the mighty Zeus (apparently, they lovingly called each other Zeus & Hera. Really! It must be exhausting to have such fragile egos and live on forever. An endless cycle of being offended, and recouping from it). So, Zeus , in his rage,  cursed them separately turning them into birds – there are many versions of the myths of course. Some say Alcyone became a kingfisher with a mournful cry trying to find peace in the seas. The gods (the other ones) took pity on her and granted her a period of calm as she prepared her nest and gave birth to the young. So, these days during the winter solstice were called the Halycon Days. Alycone’s father, the god of the winds, gave her mild breezes, calm oceans and tried to bring her peace. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alcyone_and_Ceyx

What became of Ceyx? He either became a kingfisher too or a sea tern.

By Bernard DUPONT from FRANCE – Woodland Kingfisher (Halcyon senegalensis), CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=45557095

Of course, kingfishers do not live by the sea – so they could be referring to other birds, and over time came to be associated with these beautiful birds. 

After a start to the day in which I was feeling less than inspired – the cloudy days, and the halcyon myths managed to transform it. I have always liked the phrase, ‘halcyon days’. But now? I love it. 

Embracing Effort Over Outcome

The older I get, the more I…. (That should be a web series right there!) 

The older I get, the more I seem to appreciate concerted effort rather than the outcome. For I have seen more people fail to succeed in the ways they wanted to, and yet grew in ways that success may not have taught them. But in time they became successful people.

That makes me sound like one of those management gurus who profess to fix your problems. But not quite. Where I am coming from is from an aging perspective.

The difference is, looking back at life, I have always liked the concept of human beings undertaking difficult things to achieve great things. Overcoming obstacles and all that. When younger, call it the arrogance of youth, or the fresh optimism of youth, there was a sense of setting your sights and then going about doing your best to achieve it. If you didn’t, you simply tried harder, or realized your limits and got your ego pegged down a bit. It all seemed straightforward enough.

Now, it doesn’t seem so easy. Anything requiring concerted effort seems harder.

So, what gives?

Maybe it is because there are more demands on our time and energy, and we have less t & e as we age. Before I try to create a formula for that messy statement, what I am trying to say is: Everything seems harder because of the tug and pull of prioritizing what one wants to do versus what one must. 

The demands of society, earning a living, generational demands –  many of us are caretakers for not just our generation, but the younger and older ones as well – they all take up time. Suddenly, the ability to carve time out for one’s pursuits takes on an almost selfish angle. (It isn’t). In fact, I’d argue that this time is necessary so that we may bring our better, happier selves to the harder tasks of life. 

In areas related to unconventional thinking or muscle patterns such as swimming, learning a new instrument or dancing, age seems to be a definite barrier. 

To those hard friends: Courage & Discipline

Therefore, it is with admiration that I cheer those of my friends and family who do set their sights and go for it with the promise and optimism of youth. Whether it is arangetrams or long cross-country bike rides or backpacking across mountains, or an educational degree. The achievement seems loftier because the discipline required seems higher, the distractions more, the tug and pull of daily life far more restive.

I saw this post on social media once (Paraphrasing as the original wording was more concise):  Anyone who has been a dancer will never make fun of someone trying to be one, a professional athlete will never make fun of someone joining the junior league. The judging only comes from someone who has never tried anything. 

And isn’t that true? I found myself nodding vigorously at that – how some folks manage to discern these truths, and then set them forth so lucidly is amazing.

Here’s to more of us having the courage and discipline to try new things, remain forward focused, and embracing the joys of discipline as we move towards our goals.

I did the easy thing here and asked Gemini for funny quotes on courage and discipline. Hope you get a laugh out of them too.

  • “The road to success is dotted with many tempting parking spaces.” – Will Rogers

  • “Courage is knowing it might hurt, and doing it anyway. Stupidity is the same. And that’s why life is hard.”