- Art and Words by Kris Waldherr
- Be in Love Again by Judith Geiger
- Goddess in a Tea Pot by Carolyn Boyd
- The Healing Power of Ritual by Nan Hall Linke
- Memory & Movement by Wickham Boyle
- Midlife Monkey Girls by Caren Monkey
- Midlife Road Trip by Sandi McKenna, Sher Bailey & Rick Griffin
- Motheroot Musings by Mary Saracino
- Oh My Goddess Bloggess by Wendi Knox
- Ruin and Beauty by Deena Metzger, CA
- Seeds for Sanctuary by Dr. Susan Corso
- Spreading the Gaia Word by Phoenix Wolf-Ray
- Starhawk’s Personal Blog
- Tales From the Velvet Chamber by Lillian Slugocki
- The Sustainable Soul: Natural Spirituality by Rebecca Hecking
- Writing for Life by Sandra Lee Schubert
There is nothing like aging to drive home the fact that nothing in the world is permanent. Nothing lasts forever. Nothing is ever really completely safe. There is no such thing as security. Anything, anything at all, can happen at any moment. And in that moment, we are changed forever, as well.
How the hell can we cope with such uncertain times? (And all times are uncertain.) Life is a dangerous proposition all the way around. Nobody makes it out alive, after all. We never know, from day to day, from minute to minute, when a crisis will arrive unannounced on our doorstep. We never know when or how we will be called upon to rise to a critical, pivotal occasion. Yet we would like to think that we would be ready, willing and able to handle whatever may come our way. Like any good scout, we aim to be prepared.
But being prepared in the way of the Scouts can get you only so far. Sure, it is always a good idea to have a well-stocked pantry, tool box and first aid kit, just in case. It behooves one to be smart, to be alert, aware, vigilant, careful and calm. But there is simply no way — given the infinite variety of diabolically creative forms that death and destruction can take — to be prepared for any conceivable contingency.
For instance, the case of the two well-heeled, well-coiffed Japanese tourists in London who were struck and killed by lightning striking literally out of the blue as they strolled through Hyde Park. The wire, it would seem, on their under-wire brassieres had attracted the deadly bolt. How could we ever anticipate anything so bizarre?
A woman I once knew was walking with her husband and two adolescent sons along Boston harbor one sunny Sunday afternoon. They were eating ice cream and looking at the ships when a freak wind came along and knocked one of the boys into the water, never to be seen again. Imagine. Life is so fragile that an errant wind could literally blow you away forever.
The only way that we can truly prepare ourselves for unanticipated emergencies is to center ourselves in the present moment. To pay attention. To really be here now. To be ever mindful. If we can focus on the immediate, rather than obsess over the past or try to anticipate the future, we will have the presence of mind to assess each situation as it arises. And we will be able to be flexible in our response to it.
It is not so important to know what we will do in any given situation. The crucial thing is to know that we will be able to do something. To have confidence in our ability to think on our feet. To have faith in our own assessments, instincts and intuition. To be able to figure it out as we go along. To believe in our good intentions and our courage to do whatever is called for.
It seems to me that the secret to successful preparation is mindful presence. To live the life that we have, while we can, as best as we can, and to appreciate every single minute of it. L’chaim!, the Yiddish toast, “To life!” recognizes, embraces and salutes life in the full range of its scope and complexity. It celebrates all of it — the good, the bad, the ugly, the indifferent — for tomorrow we die.
The Queen welcomes questions concerning all issues of interest to women in their mature years. Send your inquiries to firstname.lastname@example.org.