Pastures Gone Barren

It was an experiment born out of a crisis, enriched by isolation and then crippled by life’s return to normal. As the cliché goes, all good things must end sometime. It’s just too bad it had to be this because I think we all needed it back then and still do today.

At the height of the COVID-19 crisis, I was stumbling around trying to figure out how to stay connected with past friends and acquaintances. Turns out that at about the same time, there were rumblings among the mental health community about a relatively new phenomena called: male loneliness. Google said it best:

The "male loneliness crisis" refers to the increasing number of men, particularly young men in the U.S., who report feeling profoundly lonely and isolated, often due to a lack of close friends and deep social connections. This crisis has serious health consequences, including increased risks for heart disease, stroke, dementia, depression, and premature death. The problem is linked to rigid societal expectations of masculinity that discourage vulnerability and help-seeking behavior, a decline in the number of men with close friends, and the lasting impacts of social media and pandemic lockdowns.

My idea was simple enough. There was a pandemic and people couldn’t gather together. Even as a certified in good standing introvert, I missed those unplanned, casual encounters with friends that always brought me some great writing ideas, insight into their lives, and the feeling that we were all sharing something between us. It was safe, secure, and honest.

Sharon and I were in Palm Springs that Spring. Fear of contact with others prevented us from flying home so we rented a mini-truck (SUV) and began our trek back home. It was during that long journey across miles of nothingness that I thought about reconnecting with friends back home. Truth be told, I’m not a group-kind of person. I’m much more comfortable with a one-on-one situation. I find those conversations deeper and more enriching rather than group chats.

So, my idea was a pretty simple one. We would meet outdoors where distance was assured. It could be park shelters, coffee shop patios, lake front property and/or my own porch. Anyplace convenient for the other party. The goal was just as simple. A chance to connect or reconnect with friends, on a one-on-one basis, safely distanced apart and share our lives. Simple in concept, hard in reality.

At first everyone was all in.  Almost ten folks, male and female, who seemed to embrace the idea and were willing to give it a shot. The conversations flourished in the absence of communal gatherings and friends apart. It was safe, convenient, different and richly rewarding for most of us. Older adults just being themselves. Sharing and caring and openness seemed to be the order of the day. At least that’s what I thought. But just as quickly as the idea was accepted, its duration began to grow tired and slow down after a couple of years.

Calm placid waters in the early morning stillness weren’t enough to hold some people’s interest and attention. Life began to creep back into their lives. Even as I felt our intimate conversations grow and evolve, some of my salon compatriots began to show their cracks as their respective lives began to regain some kind of normalcy. Nothing ever remains as it is. So, too it was with my coffee and chat encounters.

Like ‘Bob Dylan’s Dream,’ it was there and then it wasn’t. The reasons were many and varied and each carried with them a glance into lives returned, lives changed and lives moving on. Dementia, cancer, elder care, work (didn’t have to) and work (had to) were just some of the variables that began to scratch away at this good idea. I don’t blame anyone for dropping out. Life just got in the way.

Fortunately, a few old stalwarts remain; still willing to challenge the early morning chill and quiet of dawn for a chance to connect, reconnect and solidify their bond with fellow life travelers. I intend to ride this pony for as long as I can and my friends are willing. There’s still nothing like the early morning stillness to open up one’s mind to a kaleidoscope of possible topics and verbal banters to exchange.

Mindfulness at Home

Out of my latest batch from Better World Books, I found a gem that surprisingly validated a new approach I’ve taken to embrace appreciation in my life. I had little more to go on than the title when I was perusing the BWB web site. But upon later review, the book opened up a whole new approach to thoughtful analysis of one’s daily life.

The Mindful Home is a book that embraces approaching life mindfully and extends it to the home environment. “The home is not grand, nor decorated by the latest trends.” Instead, the book discusses the home as an oasis for mindful exploration. It is a place that is restful, that reminds us of things beautiful and edifying, and one that is welcoming for visitors.”

Even before stumbling upon this plethora of new ideas, I’d been striving to embrace the good things happening in my life and learning to appreciate the simpler things all around me. Along with the miles traveled, I’ve seen, heard and experienced enough to know there is goodness in the air if one makes the effort to find it.

It can be a casual conversation with family. It could be my early morning sequester on the porch or pack patio which a friend has labeled as my ‘quiet time.’ It could be any opportunity just to ‘chill out’ and ‘smell the roses.’ I think my friend got that description of ‘quiet time’ spot on. It ties in nicely with my interest in yoga, meditation and other thought-fulfilling exercises.

Over the years, I’ve tried the yoga approach but never put on enough mat time to really feel I understood its benefits. Back in the mid-Sixties, I toyed with the idea of trying the newest craze among the hippie set; Transcendental Meditation but that didn’t work either. There was always some recommended pathway ahead of me but it was usually choked with self-doubt and confusion.

Those wondering / wandering meanders into the subconscious led to a lot of poetry and song lyrics being written during that period. Bookended between high school graduation and marriage, I had ten years of inspection and introspection. In retrospect, I think it was an attempt for me to capture in the vernacular, those thoughts, ideas, concepts, dreams, illusions and aspirations that escaped an easy explanation. Somehow, putting it on paper seemed to lift the fog of mystery and doubt.

As the years rolled by, those cerebral explorations of the unknown continued in a variety of locations, all of them, in one way or another, very conducive to grasping the questions still banging around in my head. The location was less important than the serenity that enveloped it as a conducive conduit for thought.

In the last couple of years, this cerebral exercise in Salon gymnastics as led to what I label as my ‘Coffee and Chat’ sessions, it’s really just a comfortable meeting among friends over coffee.

The conversation always takes on a life of its own and we just follow it along. Two old men (and a couple of women) sharing, caring and opening themselves up to one another. No subject untouched or uncovered if the moment is right. No regrets, no apologies, just an honest exchange of one self. Each of us feeling lucky we’re still around for such an honest discourse.

It’s reflective discourse we all can learn from. Mindfulness that is comforting and enlightening at the same time.