Time and making the most of it

I'm not talking a new watch or organizing your cutlery drawer

For me the start of a new year always used to signal a feeling of renewal. An opportunity for a fresh start, establishing healthier habits, being one year older and hopefully, wiser. Now, as I’m in my 63th year, each new year brings with it the feeling that the sands of time are running out. Funny how that works. When we’re young, we never think of time as a journey from start to finish, rather it is open-ended, with no real conclusion for us, just others. We think of ourselves as eternally youthful, with a body that will always be flexible and operate with endless stamina.

It was my 2022 spring Greece trip that suddenly gave me a jolt. A month or so after I returned I realized that my feet were hurting in a way that they hadn’t before. My physiotherapist informed me (yes, as you age your physiotherapist is one in a legion of health care providers on which you come to rely) that I had developed a bunion! A bunion!? WTF? Not only was my large toe bent in towards the others, looking for close company, but the joint that used to be anonymous was now angling for attention, literally. With the addition of insoles in *all* my shoes and slippers, dry needling (ouch but effective), toe exercises and self-massage, my feet have been brought back from the brink. Still, though, it feels as though my toes are threatening to stay cemented in place, without the easy fluidity and movement they once had.

And that’s not all. I wake up nearly every morning now with fingers that are stiff and in the case of my left index finger, unwilling to bend and unfurl without clicking. This is apparently called ‘trigger finger’ and most commonly affects women over the age of 50 - my mother was also affected with it and I recall her receiving cortisone shots. One of the causes can be repetitive gripping - exactly what my profession as a gardener requires. Lucky me. And lucky for all those others who are afflicted <sad face>

So now upon the unfolding of a new year, my attention turns to how I am going to include adventure in the next twelve months…

Right now, adventure involves having the house painted but not until after all the furniture had been piled up in the middle of every room. The guy who’s doing much of the hole patching and painting looks like he could be a lost member of the Stones, but I’m told in between doobie breaks, he’s very good at what he does.

Who has their house painted in January? Hell, we do! And honestly it’s been so mild the last few days that we could probably throw all the windows open if we needed to, but I’m happy to report that paint these days has very little odour.

I watched a show the other day called ‘The Craftsman’ on Magnolia TV, which I think is taking over from Martha Stewart in its presentation of artisans from all corners of American society. It follows Eric Hollenbeck, a kindly old geezer with no shortage of witticisms and character who is a master woodworker dedicated to restoring beautiful old homes in Eureka, California, using tools that look like they belong in a museum. In one episode he shows delinquent high school kids as part of a alternative work program how to make paint. To my, and their, astonishment, it is simply a combination of water, flour, iron sulfate, linseed oil and liquid soap. Sadly, I don’t think the Benjamin Moore folks are making theirs this way but the safety data sheet indicates the ‘Aura’ paint has “little to no odour”, which is the only reason you would elect to use it in the heart of winter.

As for my next adventure, well, I’m looking at Italy. Or France. Or Croatia. Or certainly Greece again. I think my visit there was limited by my shock and awe. I remember as a teenager, who was enthralled by art, visiting the National Gallery in London with my father and upon entering Room 22, was faced with twenty-six paintings by Rembrandt and his followers. I recall immediately scanning the room, then thinking that although I understood the impulse to group them together, it seemed much more respectful to give an entire room to just a single painting by this master of light and shadow and texture. Similarly, the ground that I trod on in Greece, on the islands and in Athens, were saturated with the footfalls of ancients, who lived in a distinctly different world than we do today…a fact that is almost overwhelming to me.

I strive to find adventure and wonder in the smallest of moments and the most condensed of scenery. Big moments are often, well, just too big. Hence the name of this blog.

I have always found that if you are able to suspend time, then treasures will present themselves. And your breathing, heartbeat and pulse will slow - allowing your body to recover from the anxiousness and speed of daily life.

Now to look at possibilities for another bucket list trip soon….because time is marching on.