#50finethings 46 – 50

“If something was worth writing down, it was worth writing down in full. And she had a horror of lists–grocery lists, Christmas card lists, and most grisly of all, to-do lists. Lists, like appointment books, were nails driven into the future. She knew this was an odd objection to be raised by a person whose daily life was utterly predictable, who never threw caution, or anything else, to the winds, who never packed light, because she never packed at all. Still, the future was a sleeping monster, not to be poked.”
― Jincy Willett, The Writing Class

“Sometimes the most important things don’t fit on lists.”
― Andrew David MacDonald, When We Were Vikings

#50finethings was born into January darkness out of fear of a 50^th birthday.  It started as a list of things to do but became an abstract inventory for people who don’t like to follow structure and rules.  It could have been an evolving distraction, but in the end, it might just be an outline of some things that happened.

If January is a harsh, annoying alarm clock at 6.30am, then October is a 9.00pm film, with the dinner dishes tidied away, and the reading lamps turned on.  Autumn is the most middle class of all the seasons, with its insistence on cosy, warm jumpers, and frolics in the orchards.  Autumn demands waterproof boots.

At 50 we have the confidence to be modest, and we accept that so much of this life is a mystery.  We have moved away from the cockiness of the 20s, the horrific mistakes of the 30s, and the constant backtracking and reversing of the 40s.  Instead, we are faced with some quiet waters of the 50s, where silent waves stir.  50 is a harvest, a latter midway point, a resting place where we can gather our berries and nuts, and hold them safe for wintertime.

We can do just one thing at a time. 

Would we prefer to scroll, or watch the rainwater trickle down the window?  Would we hear bad news, or listen carefully to the rhythm of the thunder?  Do we complain about our city, or try and make it better?  Can we remove the cause of suffering, or the symptoms of pain?

Many of us have plenty and many have nothing at all.

At 50, we know what we think about poverty; if we want to eradicate poverty, we will need to take away capitalism, and if we want to evolve and find honest fulfilment, we probably need to do both.  We know now, what we think about everything, and we know what we need to do.  At 50, we can also change our minds.

With autumn comes the harvest, and for some of us, grief.

We learn our subjects at school and read what pleases and interests us, yet it’s shocking how little we know about grief.  Why not learn about, and be prepared for grief?  Better then, to take grief by the hand, and welcome it onto our path then to run away from it.  Be good at grief: not mawkish or sentimental, dismissive, or ignorant, but learn wisdom from it, grow compassion, find grace.

Even ordinary, uncomplicated grief can be a friend.  A harsh friend who can teach about kindness and love.  If #50finethings was a distraction from grief, then it brings us back to the start now. 

Here we are at the 11^th new moon of this year.  We wade from the Harvest Moon into the Mourning Moon, while the final two moons await in the wings.

This new moon, this other new beginning.

This new start is the beginning of ahimsa.

Ahimsa is the ancient practice of non-violence, non-injury and non-harm to self, others, and all sentient beings, in thoughts, words, and actions.

Now that’s some list!

This list transcends #50finethings and is unending and spiralling, and could take a lifetime to get the hang of.  Imagine, having only non-harmful thoughts about ourselves, all the other people we know *and* all sentient beings!  No harsh thoughts or words or deeds about ANYTHING or ANYONE in this whole world, and beyond.

Even for an hour.

This life is a privilege.  To wake and watch the beautiful miracle, a simple mystery, a spectacular essence of life; this life, this time, this now.  We are gentle paper boats, floating down the canal and we are precious, and alive, and we matter.

The finest things in life are the people we love and the time we spend with them.  We know that, we knew that, we must remember that.  A love for this horrific, absurd, charming life with its poverty, and its grief, and its miracles.  

A falling leaf from a tree, this autumn.

#50finethings: the end

46: do an Autumn Light online writing course with Beth Kempton

47: review #50finethings

48: eradicate poverty

49: learn about grief

50: practice ahimsa