Love Letter to my life #30: 2020 Summarized

by Joyce Wycoff

(We know the day we were born, but most of us do not know the day we will die. This love letter to my life is written on the day I've designated as my death day, the 17th of every month, and reminds me to be grateful for my incredible life.)    

The last love-letter of the year falls on the combination of my monthly death day and my birthday, prompting this summary of the year. 

 

In 2020, I ...

• Moved. When the perfect RV park on the Truckee river raised their space rent and offered no assurance that they wouldn’t raise them whenever they wanted, I bought a mobile home in a nice community with a clubhouse, pool, and exercise facilities. It didn’t take long to realize that being on a hill in Reno meant wind … lots of wind. It also didn’t take long for access to the club facilities to be closed due to COVID-19.
• Focused on making photo books. Created The Road to Gerlach as part of an application for an artist in residency program. Was not chosen for the program.
• Flew to Florida to visit a long-time friend and helped her make her own photo book about a local rookery.
• Developed a guide book to help people make photo books and was accepted by Truckee-Meadows Community College as an instructor to teach a class on photo book making.
• Explored the Nevada outback with the kids. Rocks, golden eagle nests, Aurora ghost town cemetery, fun time with family. 
   

  

  Available here.
  

   
• Created Corona Wisdom, a book of art, poetry, and reflections about the pandemic. In order to make this book, I followed a frustrating path of learning InDesign and focused on the unfolding lessons, frustrations, and upheavals caused by the pandemic.
• Was horrified by the number of typos sprinkled through the pages of the first soft-cover copies of Corona Wisdom. Plus, the design didn’t please me. So, back to the drawing board until a hardback copy arrived in mid-November. It makes me happy and has received some lovely reviews.
• Answered a spirit call to be closer to water and nature by buying a 20 year-old RV located in Vagabond RV Park on Lake Almanor in Northern California. Being there made me want to connect more fully to nature and my spirit.
• Returned to California. As a result, I put my Reno house on the market, bought a 10 year-old RV and had it towed to Pinezanita RV Park just outside Julian in Southern California. The plan is to spend five summer months at the lake and the seven fall and winter months in the mountains.
• Reconnected with dear friends in the San Diego area and suddenly felt supported. 
   

  

  Free online version.
  

   
• Launched an online magazine, inspired by the fall colors of the oak woodland around me and watching woodpeckers create their granary trees, I launched an online magazine: The Granary Tree, where I will store bits of gathered wisdom from my journey … my acorns.
• Got cold. Became frightened by the mechanical aspects of living in an RV. Searched for a way out; contemplated moving.
• Discovered Borrego Springs, a small desert town an hour away from Julian. Stunning landscape surrounded by 600,000 acres of Anza-Borrego State Park, Borrego Springs has an artsy and somewhat quirky culture that appeals to me.
• Came close to buying a mobile home in Borrego Springs, which would have meant abandoning the idea of a two-RV lifestyle, but the beauty of the trees of Pinezanita, as well as the simplicity of my life, held me in place, resisting the pull of self-inflicted change.
• Turned 75. Grateful for my excellent health, kind and loving friends, and the lessons that just keep coming.

2020: a year of perfect vision gone awry turns out to have delivered a dollop of wisdom. I have chosen to live closer to nature and will learn to live with its challenges. 

 

Dear 2021 ... it would be perfectly fine with me if we made it through the year without moving. Just saying.

   

Corona Wisdom, gathered glimpses during an unfolding pandemic

Click here for complete magazine version

Title change: curiosity sparked this work and I am still curious about where this pandemic may take us as individuals, a country, and a planet. However, along the way, I believe I have found some wisdom and began actively seeking the wisdom of others. It seems time to change the title.

5/16/2020 Update: when I began this journey, I had been self-quarantined for about ten days following a trip to Florida. Obviously, like everyone else, I had no idea where this journey would take the world or me. On March 30, the United States had 2,601 deaths and was shutting down. This morning 86,571 US citizens are dead, the curve hasn't flattened yet people with assault rifles are protesting in various state capitals.

A couple of days ago, I realized that I am part of the problem, adding to the negativity on social media. So, I've switched gears and will seek wisdom for the rest of the journey. I've also set a stopping point for this work: May 30, 2020. The pandemic will be over, but my gathering of glimpses of it will stop. Who knows what will happen after that.

4/20/2020 Update: this activity has become a major focus that calls me to explore this strange world. Slowly I've come to realize what an amazing time this is. Our parents and grandparents survived two world wars, a major economic depression and some were even around for the 1918-1919 pandemic. From the baby boomers on, we've had it relatively easy, and now we're being tested.

I don't think any of us would have requested this experience, however, it is shaping us in ways we won't understand for some time. Like most major events, it is bringing out the best and the worst in us and every day I learn a little more about the world, my fellow humans and myself. Corona Curiosity gives me a place to put some of what I find. For the current magazine version, click here.

3/30/2020: The main thing that seems to calm my heart and my mind right now is art and writing. From this need Corona Curiosity was born  as I wonder where our world will be when we reach the end of this crisis and what we will learn along the way. I don't know where this is going or what it intends to be. I'm trying to just show up, listen, and record.

I've assumed it will take the shape of a photo essay book since that's where my passion is right now. So, everything is being put together as pages. 3/30/2020: I'm up to 17 pages so I'm putting them into a magazine format and will update it periodically. To see the latest version, go to Corona Curiosity.

I believe fully that "this, too, shall pass," but my goal is to  come out of this challenge feeling more productive, more creative, and grateful for what I have learned from the experience.

Stay safe and find ways to feed your creative spirit. joyce

Corona Wisdom: glimpses of a world radically changing

NOW available in hardback from BookBaby:

UPDATE: In the meantime, this virus goes on displaying new tricks and devastating lives as it goes. Today the vaccine began to be delivered ... may it reach every one of you quickly and end this time of such stress and division. 12/14/2020

Eighty days ago I began a journey of trying to capture the essence of a pandemic in words and art. The expected 30 pages have mushroomed into over 100, so it is time to wrap up this project. I wanted to end the journal with lessons learned and expected a long list of inspiring takeaways from this time.

However, days have passed with little result. Closure eluded me as I began to review where we’ve been since late February when the first inklings that this might be serious crept into our consciousness.

Since then, we’ve reached 100,000 US deaths, and one thing is clear: the common refrain of “We’re all in this together,” reveals itself as a cruel joke on so many levels.

Emergence

Deaths are clustered around old age and the lethal combination of poverty and contributing health conditions. Approximately 40% of US deaths were residents of nursing homes and assisted living centers, and people living in poverty are twice as likely to die as the middle class and wealthy.

A similar inequality exists on the economic side of this pandemic. The capital of the wealthy is actually increasing and middle-class professionals are working from home with little impact to their incomes or life-style, other than a few less exotic vacations and gourmet restaurant meals.

The working poor, gig workers, and homeless however, are being devastated, not only losing their incomes, but also their health insurance, and often, access to security programs such as unemployment. Endless lines at food banks are common and the token payment of $1,200, intended to help people through the financial crisis, isn’t enough to touch the needs of most poor families.

Peace Egret

So, what are my takeaways, from this time of crisis? One lesson relearned and three questions.

THE LESSON: Times of stress and crisis bring out the worst and the best in us.

    A few examples of the worst that made me despair:

• Bazookas in a sandwich shop.
• Spitting on people just doing their jobs.
• Threatening the lives of anyone who disagrees with you.
• Armed protests for the freedom not to wear a mask.

    A few examples of the best that have lifted my heart:

• A man playing his grand piano from a gondola on the canals of Venice.
• Anonymous donors paying off student loans.
• Amateur pilots flying medical supplies to rural hospitals.
• Health care workers risking their lives to treat patients.

And THE QUESTIONS:

Do all lives matter?

Do all deaths matter?

Does our planet matter?

It it easy to respond:

Of course!

However ...

Actions speak louder than words and I’m not sure our actions are consistent with those words. These are deep, complicated questions with no easy answers.

If the lives of our elderly truly mattered, would we house so many of them in substandard warehouses? Only the truly well-to-do can afford the price of top notch care facilities. Plus, the salaries of care workers in all facilities are abysmal, resulting in astronomical employee turnover and a revolving door of under-trained people caring for our elders.

If the lives of everyone mattered, would we have streets in every city in America where the homeless wander aimlessly, often sick mentally or physically, lacking adequate food and shelter?

If the lives of everyone mattered, would Native Americans be facing loss of tribal income, staggering unemployment, and inadequate basic services such as clean, running water?

If the lives of everyone mattered, would children go to bed hungry in one of the richest countries
in the world, and almost a third of our people lack affordable access to health care. 


Rememberance

If all deaths mattered, what would we have done differently during this pandemic? The United States is one of the richest, best educated, and most sophisticated countries in the world. The Department of Defense budget for 2020 is $721.5 billion. Couldn’t part of that budget be focused on protecting us from the ravages of a pandemic? 

There is a huge amount of technology focused today on extending our life expectancy, perhaps even removing death from natural causes from our concept of life. Most likely, these options will be far more available to the 1% than the rest of us. Is this what we want?

And, last but definitely not least, does our planet matter? We’ve seen amazing changes in the past three months … cleaner air, clearer water, animals returning to places they had abandoned. We’ve seen changes in how we work, how we do business, how we relate to our families, our neighbors, our communities. We’ve done what we previously thought impossible, because something we can’t even see said: STOP! Will we begin to treat the planet as our only home or go back to our self-destructive ways?

We need to have serious conversations about these very complicated questions. There is a huge bucket of blame for the loss in life and economic security from this pandemic, however, at this point, placing blame will not serve us well. There is enough to be shared by all of us since we’ve all played a role in creating the current state of our planet. 

Tree of a different time

The bottom line, for me at least, is the understanding that we need to decide who we want to be as a people and then create the systems, the institutions, the government that will take us there. 

How can we foster these conversations?

If you would like a free online copy of Corona Wisdom, please click here.

Corona Wisdom back cover

There is a limited edition print version of this work ... unfortunately, the price is limited-edition ridiculous ... $50 shipping (includes US shipping). Contact me if you would like to order a copy.

Love Letter to My Life #23: dancing through time

"Dancing through time"

by Joyce Wycoff 

(We know the day we were born, but most of us do not know the day we will die. This love letter to my life is written on the day I've designated as my death day, the 17th of every month, and reminds me to be grateful for my incredible life.) 

 

 I love Google.

Recently, I was thinking about my life and the dance of time and money when one of those odd memories popped into my head: “time is money - look in the clock.” I remembered it was from an old sitcom and vaguely remembered it being a mystery sitcom. That’s where the synapses parted ways and left me in the dark.

Until I googled the phrase and this answer, given twelve years ago, popped up in a forum:

Yes, this was on My Little Margie. They went to the house of a dead millionaire to find his treasure. His parrot kept saying "Time is money -- Look in the clock." But there were thousands of clocks. There were also sliding panels, secret passages, and a chair that dropped you down a chute into a big net in the basement. Most of the regulars sat in that chair eventually. I especially remember Margie's father Verne going down the chair. (There was a similar chair in one of the original Topper movies).

Taking it a step further, I discovered that My Little Margie aired from 1952 through 1955. I must have seen it when I was about 10 because that’s when we first got television. The Wikipedia synopsis triggers more memories:

Set in New York City, the series stars Gale Storm as 21-year-old Margie Albright and former silent film star Charles Farrell as her widowed father, 50-year-old Vern Albright. Many of the shows episodes are still available but apparently “Parrot Gold,” which features the line about time and money, is not available.

So, back to the dance of time and money. Most of my life was focused on career and money. However, 2008 changed all of that as the economy unilaterally decided I was retired. It took several life-style readjustments before my income and expenses began to balance out, but now I am in a lovely place where I can live on my Social Security, which is good timing in this covid-19 world of financial turmoil.

What I’m rich in right now is time … and a willingness to be open to whatever comes my way. Almost two years ago I began the practice of celebrating my death day every month on the 17th. It seems to create a momentary vortex, a black hole that sucks new energy into the mix of my life. Flitty little things like memories from an ancient sitcom as well as things with a little more substance such as the incredible book Ten Thousand Doors of January.

My standard process as I near the 17th is to watch the ideas showing up that I might want to write about. Often words and sentences start to form, especially in the twilight hours of the morning. I hold them loosely, letting them develop like steeping tea. More often than not, they turn flat and are replaced by other possibilities. 

This month seems to be following that pattern. A couple of days ago the theme of time and money appeared with that little sitcom phrase. I followed that lead until it stopped, and then waited. Apparently it was done and I needed to move on.

Corona Curiosity aka Corona Wisdom

Yesterday, a new thread dangled itself in front of me. Since the early days of the coronavirus pandemic, I’ve been creating a journal of sorts about it, exploring the rich field of new learnings and endless drama. At times, I’ve felt like I was on a mission to synthesize this unique experience and tease out actions and stories that represent the whole of the pandemic. In the beginning, I expected this journal to become a little book of 30 pages or so. It is now sitting at 112 pages and I have begun to wonder when it will be complete.

The new turn began as I read about the mental health problems being created by the stress of the disease and financial devastation. My intention was to create a two-page spread in my normal format, synthesizing the issue and pairing it with an inspiring quote and a piece of my art. But, things changed along the way. 

Change #1: Suddenly I became clear that I was part of the problem. I was writing about these times in a way that amplified the stress and fear. I had to stop. I want to spread peace and kindness on the water, not add to the divisiveness of these times. I didn’t want to stop writing about this pandemic, but I wanted to do it in a different way: instead of feeding the negativity monster, I wanted to share wisdom and create peace.

Change #2: As I decided I needed to lessen the negative input I was absorbing from social media, I spread my yoga mat and clicked onto my browser to find something soothing to listen to, instead of my normal chanting playlist. I’m not sure how it got there, but the tab I clicked was on a TEDtalk by a Shaolin master, which was automatically followed by a talk by a Buddhist nun. That seemed like a confirmation of my new direction.

Not that I want to be a Buddhist nun or necessarily even a Buddhist. I also know I don’t want to be rich or famous; so, in our western society’s view of success, the question is always ... what else is there? 

 

That's what I was trying to clarify when I recently went through a 5-year planning process. The result of that thinking showed me that what I really want is to keep learning, creating, connecting with myself and the Universe, and sharing what I’m learning. This is who I am or at least who I want to be.  This is what brings me delight. 

 

Of course, the Universe and the 7 billion other inhabitants of this planet are buzzing around creating circumstances that will ultimately affect me. Just as I can't imagine that five years ago any of us would have thought we were sheltering in place, wearing masks, and watching an unseen enemy make mincemeat of our lives. So come what may, my job is to stay focused on my four priorities: LEARN-CREATE-CONNECT-SHARE and keep my actions in line with them.

Stay safe and find ways to feed your spirit.

TEDTalks: 

Master Shi Heng Yi – 5 hindrances to self-mastery

My Path To Becoming A Buddhist | Emma Slade

Love Letters to My Life #43: Cosmic Insignificance

(Book details at the end of article)

(We know the day we were born, but most of us do not know the day we will die. This love letter to my life is written on the day I've designated as my death day: the 17th of every month, and reminds me to be grateful for my joy-filled life. Once a year I get to celebrate both my birth and death days on the same day. Joyce Wycoff)

Death Day in another new year … a double whammy for contemplation of life and the future. Thoughts swirl around what to do with my life and how much time I actually have left to do something with. Of course, no one knows: the actuarial charts peg my life expectancy at 99; Oliver Burkeman spells it out in weeks in his book 4000 Weeks, Time Management for Mortals. 

While I know the end could come anytime, today or that faraway 99, I choose to conceptually work with 15 years, 780 weeks. I’ve spent my fair share of the past 76 years learning how to manage my time, shooting for that illusive star of productivity. Burkeman offers an interesting bone to chew on … cosmic insignificance. This concept comes in Chapter 13 of his book and popular blogger Tim Ferriss chose to publish Burkeman reading this chapter in case you would like to hear it.

In a nutshell, Burkeman sets up the insignificance of humans by reducing the 6,000 years of human culture into 60 100-year lifetimes, reminding us that what we think of as the ancientness of our culture is a mere wisp of smoke, 60 lifetimes, in the billions of years timeframe of the Universe. While we’ve had amazing, transcendent humans who have changed life as we know it … the Einsteins, Mozarts, daVincis, Galileo … there have only been a few handfuls of them and even they did not make a dent in the Universe, so regardless of what the rest of us do, it will be, on the cosmic scale, insignificant.

This could be a downer making us feel powerless; however, Burkeman sees this as a great liberation. It’s not our problem, nor even within our power, to save the world, leave a legacy that will ring down the halls of time, or build anything physical that will stand for eternity. What we can do is live a life which engages our passions, feels meaningful to us and serves others and ourselves.

Burkeman builds a lot of this philosophy of cosmic insignificance on the pandemic which has brought us what he calls The Great Pause, a worldwide shift in perspective and possibility. Beyond Covid’s shocking world wide death toll which has already surpassed the death rate of the Crusades, the Hundred Years’ War, the Korean War, and approaches the death toll of the Napoleonic Wars, it shifted our perceptions, at least temporarily. We saw blue skies over polluted cities, experienced the shift of time spent at the office to time spent at home, and understood in a new way our interdependence on each other.

For me, and probably many of us, Covid highlighted our mortality and prompted our thinking about what to do with our finite gift of time. I have spent the past 15 years since Richard’s death exploring and learning more about the world and myself, reveling in a previously unknown capacity for making art and combining it with words. 

However, there has been an underlying restlessness because these efforts were reaching few people … perhaps I should be doing something more substantial, something that would serve more people, more directly. Maybe I should be more connected to community or feed the starving children somewhere, follow a truly worthwhile purpose.

Burkeman proposes this type of thinking as a form of grandiosity, a belief in a cosmically significant Life Purpose which the Universe is waiting for us to discover and fulfill. “Which is why,” Burkeman states, “it’s useful to begin this last stage of our journey with a blunt but unexpectedly liberating truth: that what you do with your life doesn’t matter all that much—and when it comes to how you’re using your finite time, the universe absolutely could not care less.”

Reminding us that each of is unique and will have our own unique definitions of what constitutes a meaningful life, Burkeman quotes the philosopher Iddo Landau: “We do not disapprove of a chair because it cannot be used to boil water for a nice cup of tea.” I love that.

Bringing this to a bottomline: As a cosmically insignificant resident on this glorious planet, I have the freedom to define and develop my own concept of what a meaningful life looks like.

About Corona Wisdom book: In early 1920 as Covid was beginning its creep across the globe, I created an almost-daily record in art and words about the time. It is a 120 page, hard-back, full color book available for $45 including postage in the US. For more information, please email jwycoff@me.com.

Love Letters to My Life #36: Denim Carpet to My Wild Twin

My cooling-feet, sunset-watching spot.

by Joyce Wycoff

(We know the day we were born, but most of us do not know the day we will die. This love letter to my life is written on the day I've designated as my Death Day: the 17th of every month, and reminds me to be grateful for my incredible life.) 

75 seems like an odd age to start taking my life seriously. Perhaps because this is the 36th monthly love letter I’ve written to myself or because I can feel the sun lowering toward the horizon on this one wild and precious life, I know it is time … time to do the things I truly want to do, time to be the person I truly want to be. 

So what does that mean? Three questions in one. 

What does it mean to take life seriously? 

What do I truly want to do with the rest of my life? 

Who do I truly want to be? 

Definitely a denim carpet question … which deserves some backstory. 

Every week for the past ten years, with few exceptions, my friend Pat and I have had phone conversations which wandered without direction from dinner recipes to the state of our souls. Recently, for some unremembered reason, Pat said “denim carpet” … a twisting of carpe diem, the popular call to seize the day.  

That silly phrase tickled my funny bone and lodged itself in memory until I began this love letter and it popped to the surface and seemed to be the absolutely perfect phrase. I want to seriously seize the day … but with a grin. Denim carpet!

Another thread to this tangled tale comes from a wild man, a myth teller, a mystic, a weaver of enchanted language. Martin Shaw, where have you been all my life? 

Shaw’s book Courting the Wild Twin popped onto my Kindle store front and intrigued me enough to save the sample for later.  Samples seldom turn into sales, but this one hooked me on the first cast. Shaw’s language snipped the sinews binding me to the rational world and left me swirling through clouds of mythical images. One example comes from a way Shaw describes a character in a story:

"Hawk-nosed, thistle-haired, spark-eyed, yolk-fat with cobra-knowledge, pockets a-clatter with magics, brown fingers dragging rooster blood from the heart of the moon."

According to Shaw, "there is an old legend that says we each have a wild, curious twin that was thrown out the window the night we were born, taking much of our vitality with them."

He invites us "to seek out our wild twin––a metaphor for the part of ourselves that we generally shun or ignore to conform to societal norms––to invite them back into our consciousness, for they have something important to tell us."

 I hadn't read far before my wild twin jabbed me in the ribs and said … I WANT THAT!

In one of the myths that Shaw tells, a barren woman is given advice by an old woman (there’s always a wise old woman in these ancient tales). The old one says: “walk to the north-west part of the garden and, as you go, speak everything you wish to see arise.” 

Because this is a fairy tale, all that she spoke came to pass (with, some unexpected twists since this is, after all, a myth.)

It struck me that we aren’t adept at speaking what we want. We’re taught to live in the real world rather than a world that brings us what we want just because we speak it. How are we supposed to know, though, what we truly want if we don’t speak it? And, how does the world around us know what we want if we don’t say it out loud? That, of course, doesn’t mean that we will always like what arrives, even when it’s exactly what we thought we wanted.

The wild twin knows what she wants

and speaks it out loud.

Shaw says the wisdom of the old ones is available to all of us if we convince them that we’re serious. We do that through fidelity, by continuing to show up for what we are passionate about. Fidelity is a sign post of seriousness. Which made me wonder: to what have I shown fidelity?

One answer came immediately. While I tend to be prone to many enthusiasms and shifting whims of focus, I have been faithful for many years to my creative life of art and writing. In spite of not being showered by much interest or financial rewards from the outside world, I have created a steady stream of art and words documenting my personal exploration of the world’s beauty. 

Because I've taken this part of my life seriously,  the ancients may giving me a nod.

Shortly after arriving here at Lake Almanor, while looking for a guest artist for the next volume of The Granary Tree, I went into a rather remarkable local co-op art gallery … the Blue Goose. In the process of talking about which artist might fit, I showed the gallery owner a copy of The Granary Tree and Corona Wisdom. One thing led to another and I was invited to join the gallery. Delightedly, I accepted.

 

For the first time in several years, I once again have a gallery home. I’ve been in other galleries; however, this time, I’ve matured enough in my life as an artist that I actually feel like I belong. Something of that “imposter syndrome” seems to have dropped away. Regardless of how I’ve gotten here, I now consider myself an artist … seriously.

Maybe I’ve merged, just a bit, with my wild twin. She brought me this advice to share with you:

Take your life seriously.

It’s the only life you have.

You are the only you YOU have.

You are the only you the world has.

You came here to be someone special.

You came here to do something specific.

Do it.

Give yourself the gift of being YOU.

Denim carpet all the way down!

Love Letter to My Life #24: doing what I don't want to do

Remembrance of Time Past

by Joyce Wycoff 

(We know the day we were born, but most of us do not know the day we will die. This love letter to my life is written on the day I've designated as my death day, the 17th of every month, and reminds me to be grateful for my incredible life.) 

Eight years ago I did something I had no interest in doing.

A friend and I were spending a few days in San Francisco. She is something of a fashionista and wanted to see the Gaultier show at the DeYoung. I expected to spend an hour or so being bored in the service of friendship. I did not expect to be completely overwhelmed by the sensational beauty and creativity of both Gaultier’s work and the show itself.

I didn’t expect to take more than 500 photos or make at least half a dozen works of art from those photos, one of which has landed in my permanent collection and was recently invited into an online show (shown above).

From Gaultier show

In an interview, Gaultier talked about his resistance to putting 35 years of his work on view: "A museum can seem dead, like a funeral. I don't feel dead yet. I wanted something to be very, very alive.” 

His show was definitely alive. I expected to walk through rooms of pretty, but odd, dresses. Instead I was surrounded by life-sized mannequins wearing outsized, and often outrageous, costumes. Even Gaultier himself was there telling us about his life and his art. 

"He talks. He blinks. He laughs. Standing against a panel of blue light with an army of similarly dressed and animated figures, he invites people into a fashion display unlike any other. From the Sidewalk to the Catwalk feels like a party. It's loud and bustling, full of movement and life.” reported one review.

The show blasted an opening in my conception of art and delivered a transformative lesson: insights come from unexpected places … places where we’ve never been before, either physically, mentally, spiritually or emotionally. Doing something I didn’t particularly want to do expanded me, changed the way I look at the world and my definition of art.

Today, I’m reflecting on a decision I made a year ago: to leave Mexico, something I didn’t expect to do and am still sorting out the whys of. I miss Mexico in so many ways, but I have also come to love this harsh, beautiful land and this quirky “biggest, little city in the world.” 

Leaving Mexico changed my lifescape and opened up opportunities for new experiences and insights. One of the challenges of this stage of life is that we’ve seen so much, done so much, that few experiences result in new insights. We don’t have to change countries to see the world in new ways; however, deliberately doing things outside our comfort zones is a path to new ways of thinking and understanding ourselves and the world. This doesn’t have to be as dramatic as sky-diving or becoming a monk. Sometimes startling insights come from a book, a museum, a new friendship. It seems like the key is that it is a place or experience  where you’ve never been or thought you even wanted to be.

After seriously studying Spanish in Mexico, I gave it up when I left. I had no intention of going back to it … what would be the point now that I wasn’t in a Spanish-speaking country? 

Funny, how life goes. As I ventured out into Reno, I realized I was hearing Spanish everywhere. It called to me. I resisted. 

Then came COVID-19 and I furiously followed its twisting path for months, writing and making art about it, creating a “zine.” I didn’t even know what that was until after it was finished. 

As I looked around, I realized that my new neighborhood was full of Spanish speakers. I began to think once more about studying Spanish. And, then I received an email reminding me that I had signed up for a 90-day language challenge while I was still in Mexico. When I left Mexico, they agreed to put my registration on hold and I forgot about it. Now they were inviting me to participate in the next one. I dithered and then said no. 

A few weeks went by and the thought of Spanish still hovered in the background. Then, my daughter told me that the family trip to Costa Rica had been rescheduled to 2021 … and, did I want to go? It was all planned and she sent me the itinerary, prepared by the Spanish-speaking guide. Suddenly, I was saying “well, maybe” … not only to the trip, but to getting back to Spanish. I had a year and a half … enough time to make serious progress with this language that had stymied me for years. I began to pull out my old Spanish materials and tip toe back into the waters of learning a language.

One day, I sent an email to the 90-day challenge folks asking when the next program would start, thinking It would be at least a few months from now. Hah! The Universe has its own ways. The answer came back that it would start in a week and there was room for me, but I had to say “yes” in 3 days … and make an application video (something I definitely didn’t want to do.)

But, here I am in week 2 of what will be a 13+ week journey. COVID-19 and the completion of Corona Wisdom, cleared my calendar and I have taken a deep dive into Spanish. I didn’t think I wanted to do this again. For me, Spanish is a long trail of failure tracing back decades. However, I think I have the right resources now … I spent a lot of time learning about my own learning processes and there are amazing materials available these days. 

I already see progress and I know this is going to be life altering in ways I don’t yet understand. I didn’t want to do this again and that’s probably a great indicator that it holds unknown possibilities. Stay tuned. 

PS ... If anyone is interested in materials for learning Spanish ... especially intermediate level materials ... I'm putting a ton of new stuff onto the blog I created while I was in Mexico ... Aventura Español, learning Spanish while falling in love with Mexico. (It may need a new title now.)

More information:

https://www.sfgate.com/style/article/Fashion-World-of-Jean-Paul-Gaultier-at-de-Young-3445714.php