Grey Hair

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It is happening gradually. I am approaching the final years of my forties, and the hair at my temples is now starting to grow-in grey. But only in ones and twos. In the last few years I had noticed, but not recorded, that this creeping sign of aging was apparent, and I expected it to accelerate. It seems odd to me now that it has not. There are always the same number of hairs (about five or six) on either side, but they are always short and seem to disappear before they are fully “salt and peppering” my hair. Now there are also a  few wiry ones around the hairline, just at my parting. They are much lighter than my naturally brownish hair, and wave at people from their two inches of length that sticks straight up. I wonder if these new arrivals will grow longer before they disappear?

I notice that I am not at all fretful, and I had thought this, a most visible sign of aging, would concern me. I do have a general anxiety about getting older; the promise of more aches and pains, of being less alert, of having less energy, and maybe getting some difficult to deal with illness, so why are my new grey hairs not prodding this anxiety?

It appears I am proud of this badge of achieving the age I am… hmm, still uncertain as to where this response is emanating from, but it is certainly here. I am approaching this change with something akin to curiosity. I seem to be taking it in my stride, accepting the things I cannot change, which I have always found to be the hardest line to adhere to in the serenity prayer.

So, I have decided at this point that I am going to make no efforts to cover them up. I know friends who have been managing grey hairs since much earlier in their life than their late forties, and, particularly for women in our culture, this can add a layer of stress from appearance norms that are hard to resist. I am curious to see what my attitude will be to this stance as the grey hairs multiply and become more obvious.

TBC…

 

 

Netball

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This is an old poem, but I have just seen that my sister has been out celebrating some netball achievements, and it got me thinking to this poem. I wrote it in school a very long time ago (1982), but it reminds me of how Netball used to go.(BTW it looks better on a computer screen than on a phone, as the layout is wide.)

 

Play in                                                                                    Play out

 

Jump up                                                                                Ball out

 

Throw in                                                                                Catch high

 

Throw back                                                                           Loud cry

 

“Wrong way”                                                                         Back Up

 

Throw long                                                                            “Ball, duck!”

 

Blue in                                                                                   Goal scored

 

Good throw                                                                           We roar

 

Centre pass                                                                          Whistle blows

 

Short time                                                                              Short throws

 

Up high                                                                                  Down low

 

Out again                                                                              Another throw

 

Quick shot                                                                             Long pace

 

Up court                                                                                 Fast race

 

Centre third                                                                           Once again

 

Goal missed                                                                          Try again

 

Whistle blows                                                                       Loud long

 

Game stops                                                                           Players throng

 

Bird Life

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Yesterday was a lovely sunny day, just the sort you want at the end of August in this part of the world where summer is showing signs of being over. J and I decided to take a day out and go over to our local RSPB reserve for a spot of birding. For the uninitiated this is not a euphemism, we really do look at feathered birds, and in J’s case we record all sightings for his future use and possibly for posterity as well.

Little Grebe feeding chick (from http://www.thamesvalleybirds.co.uk)

The day turned out to be a wonderful mixture of walking and watching. We walked the stony footpaths alongside the fruiting hedgerows, and took the visitor trail up to the reed-screen hides. On my previous visits the waterways had been quiet, lovely to contemplate but not noteworthy to a more serious birder than I. On this visit we were pleased to see a young Little Grebe whose peeping was insistent, and we watched as its parents dived for food. As the young chick begged it was rewarded with small tidbits.

Further along the way we were graced with a glorious display by two Hobbys. These small falcons are seriously acrobatic, and as they swooped and dived for dragon flies along the reed edged water channels we watched in wonder.  Once the birds had taken their prey in the air they then bettered this aerial feat by feeding in the air, taking pecks at the insects caught in their talons. This spectacle went on for over five minutes, and neither J nor I had ever seen this activity for that long before. It was certainly a memorable moment in my birdwatching career.

Great Crested Grebe carrying chick. (www.northamptonshire.gov.uk)

This was all topped off for me by a sight I have had on my “to see” birding list  since I was about seven; a young Great Crested Grebe riding on the back of its mother. We had walked up to the furthest hide and on the way we passed a fellow spotter who told us that he had seen a grebe with some very small chicks. Very small chicks are normally around much earlier in the year, but the wet weather this spring has put back some breeding efforts so we were lucky to have them around. As J set up the telescope, I scanned across the water with my binoculars, I saw the grebe and its young but we needed the ‘scope to get more detail as they were across by the far reed bed, about 100 metres away. When I put my eye to the ‘scope I saw the sweet sight of two very tiny stripy headed chicks scrambling up their mother’s back. I squealed with absolute joy at this and watched as they snuggled into her down, disappearing out of view for a time (so much so that J didn’t see them for a while!)

So, a beautiful day and a great time spent in the outdoors.  In the local pub, over cider, we assessed our visit; we walked and watched for four hours and saw over thirty different species – I know this as J diligently recorded each one. The encounters portrayed here sum up the magic of the day for me; to have the opportunity to see beauty at first hand in the commonplace happenings of nature is a great privilege.

 

 

 

 

Shopping Zen

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Today, while I wondered round Sainsbury’s, I noticed the difference in how I was feeling compared to prior shopping trips when I considered the rush round the aisles exhausting and the mass of people on a Friday afternoon particularly wearing. These days I can calmly concentrate on my list and the purchases I need to make; I am no longer flummoxed or irritated by other people’s shopping habits, wayward trolleys or the hectic walkways. I move through the experience with more ease, and come away less stressed at the end of it.

How has this come about?

Musing on this it seems a number of elements from my budding meditation practice add up to the overall difference I feel. The starting point is setting aside plenty of time to get grocery shopping job done; anything, if rushed, becomes much more of a chore and rushing round anywhere does not equal relaxing for me.

The actual business of shopping is approached with a few deep breaths and at a steady pace. I keep awareness on the moment by moment experience while I work my way round the shop much more slowly than I ever did. This seems to be the biggest transformation; when taking time to be in the shopping mode and relishing the choices rather than getting it over with as quickly as possible, it becomes simpler and more enjoyable.

On reaching the checkout today I appreciated how calm I still felt even though the shop was busy and I queued for ten minutes before I could begin balancing my goods on the till’s conveyor belt. The lady queuing in front of me remarked on the busyness with a tight smile, and I could feel her frustration and impatience at having to wait her turn.  In contrast I felt my patience firmly in place, and I waited with no expectations that it would be other than it was at this moment.

I hold a sense of gratitude that a simple practice of sitting meditation I have only just begun can have such a striking effect on an everyday experience.