One Moment In Time (Not Just a Whitney Houston song)

I've been on somewhat of a self-help kick lately. (Maybe it's the fact that I turned 50 this year.) One of the things I've been reading about is mindfulness.  Here's the definition:

mind·ful·ness

/ˈmīn(d)f(ə)lnəs/

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noun

1. 1.

   the quality or state of being conscious or aware of something.

   "their mindfulness of the wider cinematic tradition"
2. 2.

   a mental state achieved by focusing one's awareness on the present moment, while calmly acknowledging and accepting one's feelings, thoughts, and bodily sensations, used as a therapeutic technique.

I suck at mindfulness.  Like, really suck. Especially at that "calmly" part.

The fact is, Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.  I mean, if high school student Ferris Bueller knew that, then 50 year old me should be smart enough to figure that out, right? 

Not so much.

When engaging in mindfulness, one doesn't dwell on the past or project into the future.  All that matters in the current reality, the current moment, and your response to it.  Here is where I have trouble. I could be the poster child for...what would be the opposite of mindfulness, mindlessness? Mindemptyness? Those sound pretty horrible and way too judgemental, so let's just say I am mindfulness-adjacent and leave it at that.

It's all too easy to take our baggage with us everywhere we go, whether the baggage is the size of a carry-on or as big as a suitcase that teeters on the edge of not being allowed on the flight without you having to open it up and take out some items. The point is, our past influences our present, and it's tough to look at a moment with purely nonjudgmental eyes, without our ideas, hopes, fears, or expectations blinding us.  It's difficult to appreciate a moment without trying to control it, to see things as they are and not how we want them to be, to allow things to happen naturally without forcing them into existence. 

I know I have work to do. I also know that I will never be the sort of person who can obtain a deep state of meditation with a clear mind.  I will never not get angry at my kids when I need to ask them three times to hang up their coats. I will never be a great cook, as much as I try to make that true.  I will, however, try to be more conscious of the present and attempt to see reality, my reality, and the people and places within it, with fresh eyes, and maybe with some 2020 vision.  (See what I did there?)

I Demand a Recount

There have been many hotly contested elections as of late. We can debate the results for hours. But ladies and gentlemen, I would like to discuss a miscarriage of justice; an election whose results I think we can all agree should have gone in a very different direction. While you may not agree with me at first, I ask you to consider my argument.

The election in question? People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive. No offense to John Legend. I like John a lot, and I was perfectly happy with the results until I realized that there was an obvious choice. A choice that was overlooked because he does not conform to traditional views. A choice that is out of the box and, therefore, not given the credit that he deserves. I present my choice for sexiest man alive, Kristoff Bjorgman. Who, you ask, is Kristoff Bjorgman? He’s the dashing iceman from Frozen and Frozen2. (Yes, that’s actually his last name, I Googled it.) And, yes, I am aware that he is animated. Here are my thoughts. 

· He knows not to get in the way of Elsa and Anna’s relationship as sisters. As the mother of two girls, I know the value of this, and hope for this in their future suitors.
· He will dress up when necessary but looks best in his rugged work clothes.
· He swoops in to save Anna, but not because she is a damsel in distress; far from it. When he does rescue her, his first words are “I’m here. What can I do?” Swoon. (Gentlemen, take note, and you’re welcome.)
· He sings about his love for Anna is a cheesy, 80’s style video, complete with reindeer back-up singers.
· He is open minded, having been raised by trolls.
· He is a bad-ass. He races into fire with Sven, his trusty reindeer, to save the other reindeer.
· He’s in great shape from carrying all of that ice. 

See?? Tell me that doesn't make him deserving of the cover?  Sorry, John Legend, but I rest my case.

Love Yourself, Unless You Can Be Better

When I was young I didn’t understand why anyone would even entertain the idea of plastic surgery.  Have a surgeon cut you open just to defy aging?? How narcissistic! We should all just accept aging as a part of life and love ourselves for who we are!! I mean, look at Joan Rivers, who wants to look like her?

That was then.  This is now.  These days, I find myself doing that thing where you pull part of your face up, down, or sideways, depending on the desired effect, to see how you would look with just a tuck here or there.  I’m also paying more attention to the infomercials for anti-aging products that are on while I am getting my nails done. “Why, Yes, Jane Seymour, I AM worried about crepey skin!”

Women get mixed messages constantly.  Pick up any magazine aimed at women and you will likely see articles  called “Love the Skin You’re In” alongside ones titled “Look Ten Years Younger by Drinking Algae Smoothies!” (Or something like that)

So, which is it? Do we love the skin we are in or do we shed those extra ten holiday pounds? Do we embrace and welcome the aging process or do we inject chemicals into our faces? I suppose the answer varies by person.  It’s all what you are comfortable with.  However, it’s difficult to be comfortable when you are 50; when you see old pictures of yourself and are envious of the face and body looking back at you; When you are at the age when you just want to say “screw it, give me a donut, I’ve lived a life! I’ve earned it!” (Full disclosure, I had one of those YOLO donut moments yesterday.)

You can say “age is just a number” all you want, but it’s a significant one.  And for women, it comes with a whole Costco-sized bucket of insecurities.  What’s the answer? Is it a Costco-sized bucket of Oil of Olay? Or is it having more confidence in who, what and where we are in life? I wish I had the answers. What I can tell you is that we are in this together, ladies.  And take those articles with a grain of salt. Whether you use that salt to make a facial scrub to get rid of old dead skin, or you use it to top off a margarita, well, that’s up to you.