Yoga and the Heavily Used Body

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It happened overnight. One morning a few years ago I woke up, stretched, and as I swung my legs over the side of the bed I felt a tug running from my hip to my ankle. That was new. That was odd. That was weird. That was age!

At some point our body tells us we need to change our game plan. For many of us that happens right around 50. In fact, for women, menopause changes the game plan significantly. Along with menopause we often notice other changes. It’s too bad this happens at the same time, overnight, but it does. We can boo-hoo and whine or we can take action. I chose action. I chose yoga!

However, like most things we do when trying to make ourselves healthy I didn’t throw myself into it with vigor. I started out with good intentions but soon slacked off in favor of other things like going to work, managing my home, managing my life, and so what if I was a bit stiff in the morning? I’d be fine. Right? Wrong!

At the first sign of a body change we need to address the change and first decide if we need medical advice or if we can simply modify our lifestyle to correct the condition ourselves. I had a small dog when this first happened and I had been walking her hit or miss but started walking her more frequently to see if I could loosen up. When the stiffness didn’t subside with the increased walking I took a more serious look at yoga again.

Finally, just a few months ago (better late than never), I started a morning routine and it stuck. Now I do one of three routines every morning. But before anyone pats me on the back it’s important to note that I’m no longer working in an office with office hour constraints. Though I’m a very busy retiree I can factor in my daily exercise and yoga and dog walking now. I simply found it staggering to try to do it all when I worked. That’s not an excuse but for me it was a fact.

But that was then and this is now. Now I don’t have the same type of time issues and now I need it more than ever. So now I do it. In addition to the yoga I also walk two dogs, both rescues I adopted about the time I retired since my other little dog went to doggie heaven a year before I retired, and I also pop one of many exercise DVDs I have collected into my DVD player each day. I mix it up for variety. I exercise now more than I ever have in my entire life including my youth. That’s because it’s so important now if I want to continue being an active person.

Yoga, however, of all the exercise I do, is the absolute best for the senior body. Anyone can start a yoga program as long as they take it slow and don’t force themselves into a pretzel. There are countless levels of yoga, many different styles, and the Internet is filled with photos of correct yoga postures and helpful videos.
Correctly posturing the poses in yoga is very important along with proper breathing.

Though I do not have an instructor I do have a full length mirror (scary) and I can pause my DVD player and take a peek at myself to see how I’m doing. Sometimes I see hilarious things in that full length mirror. But yoga is very forgiving. It may take days or weeks to really master the correct posturing for a particular pose but along the way to mastering the pose the body still derives benefits from the effort.

I tried yoga in my youth and followed along with a popular TV yoga expert. I loved it but didn’t fully appreciate it like I do now. A 66-year-old body is so much more aware of itself than an 18-year-old body is. I know every muscle, every tendon, every bone in this older body and I know my limits but I also know how and when I can push myself. 18-year-olds can push as hard as they want with very little damage but it’s important for the more heavily used body to pull back a bit and move slowly into any exercise. Test the waters. Does something pinch, pull, snap, twitch, or scream? Too much! Slow down. But don’t give up. Keep going.

In fact, that’s the essence of yoga. Do yoga to keep going. So I’ve been doing the routines for the past few months and when I get up in the mornings now I literally bounce out of bed. I have no tension or tugs or pain. I can literally hop out of bed and move on with my day. After the morning coffee and animal feeding routine I head to the DVD player and start one of the routines. [Note: My newest acquisition is entitled “Fab/50-Yoga For Faboverfifty Women” with detailed instructions and wonderful videos of correct positioning which I purchased on VibrantNation.com---one for me and one for a friend.]

Over the past few months though I’ve certainly noticed great things in my ability to move about my day because of yoga I found another special aspect of daily yoga: peace of mind. When learning yoga postures it’s fairly impossible for negative thoughts or daily worries to creep into our brains. In fact, it is suggested by yoga masters to let our problems and every-day lives to go away while we practice our yoga routines. In the beginning yoga was challenging so it was easy to leave my life behind because the concentration to get my limbs and torso to cooperate was so intense. But once I got a little better at the routines I started drifting and thinking about my “to-do” list and then realized I was missing one of the most important parts of yoga: the quiet mind. So I spent the next few weeks forcing myself to only think about yoga when doing yoga. Like anything, it takes practice then it becomes a habit.

I spend a lot time of writing about senior life and working on ways to continue to be active and healthy for my body and mind. It’s a lot of work, but let’s face it: what’s the alternative? Makes me shiver.

www.sharonstrawhandgarner.com

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I'm NOT Retired!

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The 24-hour day is loosely arranged in our society as eight hours of work, eight hours of personal time (which includes getting ready for work and going to and from so really depending on our travel time we get a lot less personal time), and eight hours of sleep (if we don’t have kids). I’ve been retired from the office for four years and I’ve had a tough time changing that schedule. In the beginning I stayed up late and slept in---for five days. I went right back to early to bed and early to rise.  I may have the farming gene. I hit the floor running every day. Often when asked to lunch or other activities I have to decline because I’m busy. I know what comes next: “But you’re RETIRED. How busy can you be?” I’m not a violent person but when someone asks me “what on earth” I do all day now that I’m “retired” I must practice extreme self-control.

A few months before I retired from my office job I launched a small business so that it would be up and running once I retired from the office. It was something I had planned for many years and I thought it would be a fun way to move into a different career. Running a small business usually takes many hours every day and includes weekends. There were times when I put in 16-hour days and worked all weekend never taking a day off. The work was somewhat seasonal and picked up tremendously from September through December. After Christmas it completely died until May. From December through May, however, I prepared inventory for the next season. During this time I also finished my second novel, drafted my third, and started a weekly blog. I organized 100 years of family photos, overhauled my address book, set up systems on my computer I only dreamed of when I worked at the office, and so on. In other words, every minute of every day was used to the max. I was making up for lost time. I certainly don’t consider that “retired.”

After three years I decided to throw in the towel on the small business. This economy is tough for a small retail business and the fees and costs of materials slowly crept up, up, up. (And I needed more time to finish and start books.) I started the retail business for extra income but I was barely breaking even and not making much of a profit because of the increased costs so I stopped. Plus it was taking more time that I wanted. Did I retire--again? No.

Next I launched into house projects. In fact, for years I maintained a list of things I wanted to do to my house. Weekends never provided me with enough time for the really big jobs when I had my office job. Besides, when I did the 8 to 5 routine I had laundry, grocery shopping, bills to pay, kids to scream at, etc. I bought this house new sixteen years ago and started making lists of things I needed to do. I never had time (or money) to “decorate” it but I pushed things around here and there and placed plants on tabletops. My front yard was landscaped but I had to do the back yard. I made several mistakes in materials for that yard (because everything I did when I worked 8 to 5 I did in a hurry) and finally got it right after doing it over a few times---by myself. Over the last five years out of the sixteen it has finally taken shape and is enjoyable to spend time in and work in. It’s a very small space, which doesn’t take a lot of time to maintain but it does require some effort.

I recently painted my bathroom and when it was done the floor looked shabby. It was in excellent condition but looked outdated compared to the snappy paint job. So I ran to the giant home store and bought press-&-place tiles and now the bathroom, which is in two parts, looks great. Guess what that meant? The rest of the house looked shabby. So I launched The Great Painting Project. During that project other projects surfaced and the end result is my entire house is painted and finally organized---sort of.  But it took a while because I had too many interruptions because I’m so busy.

Yet, I had to stop a few times. Two birthdays came up in my family and I had a photo album/DVD/scrapbook project in mind for them so everything stopped and I spent MANY HOURS working on the albums. When I worked at the office I would have longed to have the time for such a project but I didn’t. Now that I have the time (sort of) I feel compelled to do things like that instead of ordering gifts online. It seems I’ve turned into a do-it-yourself fanatic.

Friends often suggest coffee or lunch and I have a hard time fitting those outings into my project list. If I get enough notice I’ll meet up with them and I’m always glad I did but if I’m in the middle of a project I just can’t seem to tear myself away from it. Painting in particular is not a project I like to leave exposed for a long period of time. Not long ago I painted my bedroom and during the middle of the project something urgent came up and it took me a couple of weeks to get back to my painting. Because I knew I’d be away from it for a while I spent several hours thoroughly cleaning my brushes and pads and putting the entire mess away in the garage. After the two-week interruption I pulled everything out again and realized it was a big pain to do that. So now unless someone has a medical emergency once I start a painting project I’m not going anywhere until it’s done. I also learned that being away from it for a couple of weeks made it harder to start again. I’d lost interest (with half the bedroom painted). Lesson learned.

My kids are both in their 30s and as each Sunday draws near I hear the familiar groans about the work week looming large. We call it “Sunday Night Anxiety.”  They hadn’t finished all of their shopping for the week, nor the laundry, they both had mail they still needed to sort through, things to do around their homes, and they just ran out of time. Sometimes my daughter tells me I’m lucky because I’m retired. She’s right. I am lucky that I have a pension and could retire from the office and not live under a bridge. But that isn’t what she means. She thinks I have all the time in the world to lounge around and relax and do nothing. I’m busier now than when I worked.

Even after I dumped my small retail business I never stopped doing things. The difference now is I work from early in the morning until late at night on projects instead of 8 to 5 and on weekends. I took more time off for recreation when I had my office job all those years. I went more places and spent more time away from the house. Forced labor in the office all week propelled me out into the world on weekends. Now it takes dynamite to tear me away from home. I also have two dogs and we walk every day. It’s good for them and good for me. It takes almost two hours. When I worked the dog I had then was lucky to get a quick walk around the block---on the weekend.

And there’s the difference. I have the time to do what I want and I make sure I cram every minute of every day with stuff I like to do or need to do. Everything I do now is for me and not an employer. Even though it can be tiring and backbreaking I don't care. It’s for me. (I also help my mom out who lives in another town about an hour from me.) For the first time in my life I do things for me almost exclusively (except for mom and the dogs).

The point of all this is: I haven’t stopped participating in life. I do know how to relax and I do have portions of each day that I devote to reading or watching a movie or a bubble bath. But for the most part I’m “at it” every morning. Early. One would think that with all this crazed activity I’d have a perfectly organized home. I don't. Most of it is neat and tidy but my “office” was a disaster until just a few months ago and my garage is jammed packed full. Most of the items can be sent to the dump but I haven’t had the time to deal with the garage. It’s because my list is so long. And not only is it long, I add things to it on a regular basis.

So why do people ask me what I do all day? The concept of “retirement” needs an overhaul. Today’s seniors, at least the ones in my group, are active and full of spunk. It drives me nuts when working friends say they don’t know what they’ll do all day when they retire. The answer: don’t retire. Just shift employment duties to the home front and develop a personal life. We are more than employees. We are vibrant, active, industrious people. We only retire from the 8 to 5, not the 24/7.

I’m NOT retired from life, just the office. If you value your safety, don’t ask me what on earth I do all day.

www.sharonstrawhandgarner.com

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Bunny + Turtle = ?

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When I was a child I had a form of dyslexia. Sadly, I was not diagnosed and instead was routinely scolded by teachers and my father. I had potential, they would tell me. I was smart, why didn’t I pay attention? Why didn’t I do my homework? I was constantly grounded for poor grades. I hated going to school some days if we had certain types of tests, and on it goes. Throughout my childhood going to school was heart wrenching for me. It didn’t turn around until ninth grade. That’s a very long time for a child to live under the label of “stupid” and the furrowed brow of one’s father.

I didn’t learn about dyslexia until I was a young adult. And when I did learn about it my particular type of dyslexia wasn’t listed so I still didn’t have any idea why I struggled so. My problem seemed so similar to those with dyslexia. I had then, and still have to this day, the most complex and amazing disability/disorder when it comes to numbers. I can’t calculate.

I can memorize long strings of numbers. I know all my bank account numbers, my Social Security number, telephone numbers from the ‘40s, PIN numbers, computer passwords with numbers, dog license numbers, medical numbers, birthdays of people I haven’t seen in 50 years, you name it. And I’m a computer geek and have been for years. Nothing gets by me and I usually can figure out the most frustrating computer problem and often use the most complicated software. I help everyone with their computer issues. But when I work with numbers I have to employ a little trick because I do not see the numbers easily. Instead, years of practice turned all my numbers into words. I don’t see 707-555-1234, I see seven oh seven five five five one two three four. Even typing this sentence astonishes me.

The advent of computer programs for bookkeeping and banking saves me hours of tedious book work. I can’t calculate and I can’t hold numbers in my head. Only for seconds at a time. They simply will not stick there long enough for me to add or subtract or do even the most rudimentary calculation. I must use a calculator for the most basic arithmetic. Leaving a tip has become an art form with me and I always over tip because it’s easier to calculate 20% than 15%.

People with disabilities often learn to compensate so that they can function in the world. I learned early on that seeing the numbers as words would get me by. But not at test time. During a test I needed to have basic calculation skills but I was driving myself further and further away from that and using my trick with word replacement. Try calculating a couple of words sometime. Bunny plus turtle equals . . . crud.

I actually was tested in later years after I explained to a college teacher (adult night classes) that I felt I had a type of dyslexia. She absolutely agreed when she asked me a few questions and arranged for the test. It was determined I have a form of dyslexia called dyscalculia, a lesser known disability of the dyslexia “family.”

The term refers to an impairment of the ability to solve mathematical problems. It spans the whole IQ range, and some sufferers often also have difficulties with time, measurement, and spatial reasoning. However, I do not. I always score very high on logic testing and did quite well in higher math as long as I could use a calculator. I understood the operations and formulas, I just couldn’t do them. My favorite afternoon activity is digging into a Sudoku puzzle. No calculation required. Just plug those numbers in where they belong using a little skill and logic.

By the time I was taking my two-year college math transfer class for a four-year college I felt confident. I had a stellar academic record and felt I wouldn’t have any difficulty with the transfer. I selected the least challenging of the required math offerings and bought the expensive calculator and went to class. Very few students were able to figure out how to use the calculator except me. I understood it instantly and helped the entire class. It was therefore a tremendous surprise to the instructor when he called me aside after class one night to tell me I was failing the class. He was stunned. I wasn’t.

I gave him the same story I had been giving my entire life. I didn’t "do" math. Silly defensive response but one I had come to love. In fact, I once took an employment aptitude test and did none of the math questions but didn’t miss a single question elsewhere on the exam. I was called a few days later and asked to meet with the proctor. She had never experienced anyone miss an entire section and she wondered if I simply forgot the section or if there was something wrong with the booklet I had been given. Again, I told the poor woman it was my lifelong math problem. She was so happy with the remainder of the test, explaining my new job would not require much math, that I got the job. That’s happened more than once in life.

I once worked in a billing/customer service office. I felt confident I would shine at the customer service and didn’t worry much about the billing part. Wrong. Eventually my problem caught up with me and I had to prepare a complicated calculation on a bill adjustment and I worked on it for hours and even took it home (it usually took only a few minutes for someone who was not math-impaired). I was .25 cents off. Finally, the deadline arrived and I placed it in my supervisor’s inbox. All adjustments went in that box for her final approval. I quickly moved back to my desk and waited. Sure enough, I heard her howl with laughter then I raced back to her desk. We were both hysterical and couldn’t stop laughing for a few days. Each time we looked at each other we broke down. Why? Because when I handed in the adjustment I taped a quarter to the sheet. We have been friends ever since and in fact will celebrate our mutual birthdays this coming week.

I had to drop the first instructor’s math class and start a new class the following semester. Different instructor, same problem. I dropped it again and took it a third time. Third time was the charm. It was the woman who had me tested and she immediately launched into passing survival tactics and I passed a complicated math class with a C. It’s the only C I got in my two-year program. I often wonder if it was a pity C.

During my research this week I found the following: “Although some researchers believe that dyscalculia necessarily implies mathematical reasoning difficulties as well as difficulties with arithmetic operations, there is evidence that an individual might not be able to manipulate the numerals in addition, subtraction, multiplication and division but with no impairment of, or even giftedness in, abstract mathematical reasoning abilities.” Oh, so true. Me and Einstein.

Around the ninth grade I was assigned to the classroom of an outstanding English teacher. I loved to read and write and she opened up worlds of literature for me that previous teachers thought I couldn’t handle because of my “problem.” I soon became her best pupil and couldn’t wait for class. When the ninth grade ended I was sad to leave her wonderful class but by that time I was a reading and writing addict and it saved my high school GPA in all other classes. My God, I could excel at something! For the first time in my life someone told me I was smart and even gifted. Not stupid.

Today dyscalculia can be detected at a young age and students have many resources available to them. Teachers have learned a slightly different approach to teaching these students. Dyscalculia is still the least known of the dyslexia learning disorders and so it is often not recognized. In fact, when I tell people about my problem it is often the first time they have heard about it and I often see a bit of skepticism in their expressions.

For many years I didn’t know I had a true disability/disorder and didn’t have academic confidence needed to pursue higher education. Eventually I received an A.A. with honors but by that time I had two kids in college and though I’m not good at numbers I could definitely do the math on that one (which was actually logic) and could not afford three of us in college. Something had to give. It was me. But I don’t care. Because I know I’m smart and I flaunt it whenever I can. Like now.

www.sharonstrawhandgarner.com

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Why Vampires?

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It’s almost impossible to find a movie or show on TV these days without scrolling through countless vampire and werewolf selections. I’m not complaining. I like a good vampire story and I sometimes like certain werewolf movies. I prefer the vampire to the werewolf. But I’m writing to explore why we are so fascinated by these creatures. I have a couple of theories.

Movies have always been about escaping from real life for a few hours. Sometimes it’s to ease our pain, sometimes it’s to simply entertain us, sometimes it’s to explore new topics, sometimes it’s to calm us down or wake us up, or countless other reasons. Mostly for me it’s to entertain.

My movie preferences have changed dramatically over the years. I once enjoyed light romantic comedies and though I no longer seek them out I do occasionally run across one with an actor I like and I’ll watch it. It must be witty and sharp and I’ve lost all interest in fluff. I still enjoy a good saga based on real or fictional events. I love to lose myself in a book of great length with lots of characters and I like my movies that way too.

From the beginning of my movie-going experience I have enjoyed vampires and werewolves and ghosts and monsters and space exploration/alien films, books, and TV. (I am currently drafting a four-book saga about an alien invasion but with a decidedly different twist.) I thought I would grow out of it but so far I haven’t---and I’m 66. Vampires for some reason have had special appeal for me all these years and I’m thrilled that there are so many new vampire stories around. Some I like, some not so much.

Bela Lugosi as Count Dracula is my favorite vampire of all time. Lugosi was an imposing man, seemed very dignified and he brought something to vampire lore besides all the blood and guts. He was a monster but oh so cultured and refined. Yet, he was indeed a true vampire. He killed people and drank their blood. Not a nice guy but a great actor. A close second is David Boreanaz as “Angel.” Oh, my goodness.

Why I became fascinated with bloodsuckers as a child is beyond me even today. What is the appeal? Some say it’s a metaphor for intense sexual voyeurism. Some say it’s a release for our internal animals and allows us to keep ourselves in check by releasing a little of that imprisoned brutality via an innocent film. Over time I have determined that for me it’s the science of filmmaking and the absolute adoration of wild fiction. The more extreme the better.

Vampires are only part of our obsession with abhorrent behavior. Many of the great novelists of years ago wrote about human suffering that was on a par with a vampire story. Complete degradation and depravity by one human toward another. Some took just a tiny step forward and created human monsters. Just a tiny step. A human capturing a person and torturing them say in the Spanish Inquisition is easily replaced by a “pretend” vampire. It somehow lessens the horror because we understand it’s pretend whereas the Spanish Inquisition was not pretend. These monsters we’ve created help us cope with the real monsters in our world. And we still have so many of them. Some are worse than vampires or werewolves and just as difficult to get rid of. Some hold public office.

A couple of years ago my son told me about a vampire film entitled “Let The Right One In.” It was a Swedish film and the most intense vampire film I’ve ever seen in my life. I have to say it sort of spoiled me for all other vampire films. Talk about metaphor. This particular vampire was an unfortunate child who would spend eternity finding people to take care of her and help her meet her “needs.” I won’t give it away. An American version has been made (“Let Me In” which I haven’t watched yet but I will to compare).

The reason I liked this film so much is that it beautifully portrayed ordinary life so perfectly with the one simple exception, the little vampire. She was no different than any other child really. She wanted to be loved and cared for and she was lonely. The characters in the film were beautifully crafted and the cinematography was unbelievable. I thought about the film for weeks and weeks. (Wear something warm when watching this film.) There are so many suffering children in the world. The fantasy of this film brought that home clearly.

Late in the run of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” (TV) I stumbled upon an episode one evening flipping around the channels trying to find something good to watch. The particular episode was so outstanding (“The Seven Gentlemen”) I watched another then another then another. I became a “Buffy” fan. My daughter has since purchased the collector’s edition set of every single episode for me then a couple of years after that she gave me the spinoff, “Angel,” with the aforementioned David Boreanaz reprising his role from “Buffy” in the lead. Joss Whedon created both series and I love the way his mind works. His vampires were fantastic and his storylines were amazing. In addition to Boreanaz, James Marsters played “Spike” in both series. Quite a vamire! Because of these two characters I have not been able to succumb to any of the current “cute” vampires.

By the way, I’m “O” positive.

www.sharonstrawhandgarner.com

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Hard Drive Heaven

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My six-year-old computer died last week. It happened suddenly without warning. I immediately unplugged my backup drive so it wouldn’t be corrupted and ran to the computer store to see if it could be revived. For a hefty fee I was assured I’d be up and running in no time. But . . . did I want to spend a lot of money on a six-year-old computer?

I came home to think about it. I was given a tour of all the shiny new computers for sale and liked quite a few of them. Yet, I just didn’t like the idea of going through the whole “new computer” thing. I drove home then walked around the house all afternoon and took a long walk with the dogs and decided I had to bite the bullet and just get a new computer.  I called family and friends for opinions and recommendations, and called the computer tech I had worked with for more information. Because I didn’t have a computer I was unable to do my customary ten hours of computer research. By this time my skin was beginning to crawl so I made the decision. A new computer.

I’m writing this on the new computer and I’m making so many mistakes that at first I thought I would keep them all in to prove my point but I decided that wasn’t very professional. Though the software I’m using is the same brand I’ve used for decades (yes, decades) it is six years newer than what was on the old computer. Huge learning curve.

I had a blog prepared for posting but it’s still on the old computer waiting for the transfer appointment. I have always transferred my own data over the years when getting new computers but in this instance I have two different operating systems and the old one no longer displays anything. It is beyond my limited capabilities. My backup drive is not compatible with my new computer so I can’t just plug it in and select files. Basically, my new computer has nothing on it except all the fun little bundled gadgets and programs it came with. And it’s pretty and a lot faster.

My other computer has three finished novels, two published and one about to be published, a fourth novel in draft stage, 20,000 photographs spanning 100 years of my family and friends, 32 slideshows set to music of the era in which the photos were taken of special family events and retirements and birthdays and holidays, home movies, my checking account going back six years, lots of programs that will not be compatible with this computer, tax records, 553 CD albums  I have collected for years that took me several months placing in my computer music library (every day) so that I could sync it with my portable digital player for endless hours of music with playlists I made, my contacts/addresses spanning my entire life, my cell phone syncing software that I can’t find, my scrapbook software,  and six years of hard work.  I don’t just use a computer, I live it.

Since I don’t have any of my files from the old computer I have spent the last few days playing with this one and I’m enjoying it but I’m also frustrated. Once my files are transferred I will have organizational issues galore and I’m quite sure some things will not transfer the way I want them to. So this week’s blog is short and I’m done. I had hoped to post “Vampires and Werewolves” yesterday but that isn’t nearly as scary as what I’m facing. It bites.

www.sharonstrawhandgarner.com 

[No part of this content may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author. Blog series began in March 2009.]