Blogging Fusion Blog Directory the #1 blog directory and oldest directory online.

Dawn Downey's Blog: Stories About Mindfulness, Gratitude, and Transformation

Home Dawn Downey's Blog: Stories About Mindfulness, Gratitude, and Transformation

Dawn Downey's Blog: Stories About Mindfulness, Gratitude, and Transformation

Rated: 2.95 / 5 | 1,279 listing views Dawn Downey's Blog: Stories About Mindfulness, Gratitude, and Transformation Blogging Fusion Blog Directory

United-States

 

General Audience

  • Dawn Downey
  • December 01, 2014 11:49:52 AM
SHARE THIS PAGE ON:

A Little About Us

My outlook on daily life will inspire you and make you laugh.

Listing Details

Listing Statistics

Add ReviewMe Button

Review Dawn Downey's Blog: Stories About Mindfulness, Gratitude, and Transformation at Blogging Fusion Blog Directory

Add SEO Score Button

My Blogging Fusion Score

Google Adsense™ Share Program

Alexa Web Ranking: N/A

Alexa Ranking - Dawn Downey's Blog: Stories About Mindfulness, Gratitude, and Transformation

Example Ad for Dawn Downey's Blog: Stories About Mindfulness, Gratitude, and Transformation

This what your Dawn Downey's Blog: Stories About Mindfulness, Gratitude, and Transformation Blog Ad will look like to visitors! Of course you will want to use keywords and ad targeting to get the most out of your ad campaign! So purchase an ad space today before there all gone!

https://www.bloggingfusion.com

.

notice: Total Ad Spaces Available: (2) ad spaces remaining of (2)

Advertise Here?

  • Blog specific ad placement
  • Customize the title link
  • Place a detailed description
  • It appears here within the content
  • Approved within 24 hours!
  • 100% Satisfaction
  • Or 3 months absolutely free;
  • No questions asked!

Subscribe to Dawn Downey's Blog: Stories About Mindfulness, Gratitude, and Transformation

Aging is Time-Consuming

I had to pass up lunch with a friend yesterday. Couldn’t fit anything else into my schedule, because I was too busy aging.As soon as I woke up I shuffled to the kitchen for the first thing on my schedule: drink a cup of hot lemon water. The energy worker told me that was good for my digestive system, which had grown too old to function properly without help. Next, a bowl of cereal, accompanied by hot flash herbs and calcium pills. I wasn’t hungry, having lost my appetite the same...

I had to pass up lunch with a friend yesterday. Couldn’t fit anything else into my schedule, because I was too busy aging.

As soon as I woke up I shuffled to the kitchen for the first thing on my schedule: drink a cup of hot lemon water. The energy worker told me that was good for my digestive system, which had grown too old to function properly without help. Next, a bowl of cereal, accompanied by hot flash herbs and calcium pills. I wasn’t hungry, having lost my appetite the same year I got bifocals, but I had to eat the cereal in order to take a caffeine-loaded aspirin. Used to be I’d pop that little pill before getting out of bed, but nowadays I can’t take anything on an empty stomach, except Cheerios.      

Then, morning yoga. You’d be hard pressed to recognize this as exercise. More, how to lie on the floor in a dozen different positions while gravity and aspirin de-stiffen your joints. My favorite pose looks like I’m torturing myself, but feels … well, if my last choice on earth was between this yoga position and the missionary position, I’d have to think about it.

Yoga loosened me up for the YMCA. I had failed the bone density test, and had been sentenced to hard time on the treadmill, due to osteoporosis.

I was running late, and in addition to the usual shower/make-up/clothes routine, needed to squeeze in nasal rinse and salt-water gargle for the allergies I’d developed at age sixty-six.

I had to get to an appointment to have my hearing checked. Do you think the doctor provided me the bragging rights of an exotic-sounding diagnosis like Meniere’s? No. The indignity of age-related wax-build-up. That’s not going to gain me a single you poor dear, call me if you need anything at all.

For lunch, I downed a protein Boost, counting the drink as one of my daily eight glasses of water. Instead of conversation with my friend, I conversed with the pharmacy’s automated call-in system, to refill a sleeping pill prescription. After about sixty-three I’d started sleeping like a colicky baby.

Next commitment—email. There was one from the ear/nose/throat office asking for a review of the visit. One from the insurance company, offering a free home visit from an elder care nurse. One from the primary care physician, instructing me to log into my account for test results from my medicare exam. On Facebook, an invitation to a retirement investment dinner and another for and Active Seniors field trip to the local dinner theatre. On Instagram, a pop-up ad for magnetic bracelets to relieve arthritis.

I took a nap.

Next on the schedule, a run to the grocery store to restock my diet tonic water. The doctor had recommended quinine for my recently acquired nocturnal foot buzzing weirdness. Detoured to the pharmacy to pick up the sleeping pill prescription.

Back home, I lay on the floor again, because the yoga teacher said five minutes with my (nocturnally buzzing) feet above my head rejuvenated the body as much as three hours of sleep did. Bonus: no special equipment required. See below.

After dinner, no time to watch the national news—I had to top off my fluids. Gulped down the eighth glass of water for the day, followed by a chaser for every hole in my head. Eyes, nose, throat, you name it—they’ve all dried out. I used to think baseball players and teenaged boys were gross when they spit. Now I think they’re showing off.

That left just enough space in the day to squeeze in a Netflix movie, before starting the hour-long process of going to bed. I meditated to relieve the stress of organizing old age. Then gathered the following equipment: Hair bonnet so dreadlocks up my nose wouldn’t wake me up. Socks so my cold feet wouldn’t wake me up. Ear plugs so my snoring wouldn’t wake me up. Eye mask so the moonlight wouldn’t wake me up.

I was sorry to miss lunch with my friend, but someone had replaced her: Father Time.


Voice Lessons

My voice teacher, Suzanne said, “There’s no such thing as a bad voice.”I thought I’d signed up for singing lessons, but they were life lessons, and Suzanne my guru.I was excited when I stepped through her front door for the first time. For three weeks, we ran scales, she on the piano, me making noises. Nay nay nay nay nay nay nay. Buh buh buh buh buh. Mum mum mum mum mum. She had me record each lesson on my phone, so I could exercise at home. I did my homework...

My voice teacher, Suzanne said, “There’s no such thing as a bad voice.”

I thought I’d signed up for singing lessons, but they were life lessons, and Suzanne my guru.

I was excited when I stepped through her front door for the first time. For three weeks, we ran scales, she on the piano, me making noises. Nay nay nay nay nay nay nay. Buh buh buh buh buh. Mum mum mum mum mum. She had me record each lesson on my phone, so I could exercise at home. I did my homework faithfully, Suzanne’s instructions ringing through the dining room and the kitchen. Squeeze your abs. Squeeze your gluts. It was a lot like yoga. I was comfortable. But, after three weeks, she told me I had to learn a song.

And then sing it to her.

Was she crazy? I didn’t know how to sing.

She found a YouTube video for me to sing along with. When I sang it for her, I was mortified. I sounded awful. Taking voice lessons was a terrible idea.

She said, “There’s nothing wrong with your voice. It’s all stuff you can learn. Stop pushing.”

I pushed against the very idea of learning.  I didn’t want to learn. I wanted to already know how.

“I’m nervous.”

Suzanne said, “Be open. Don’t judge.”

Week after week, I creaked.

She said, “You’re working too hard.”

 I cracked.

“Release the tension.”

I whined.

“Relax.”

I gasped in big gulps of air, vain attempts to reach the high notes.

“Try bowing.”

Bowing? What odd ritual was this? A rite of passage for the neophyte? I bowed, hands crossed over my heart. I bowed, air brushing past my face. I bowed, dreadlocks flapping over my head. A deep reverence swept through me, and the highest, clearest of notes flew free. I rose in slow motion, my astonished mouth agape.

Suzanne said, “Yes. Your voice is there.”

After six months, I screwed up the courage to listen to my recorded singing. I was shocked. Not bad. Not Aretha, but damn, not bad. (I have to add the disclaimer, because claiming I might be good at something is just as push-worthy as assuming I’m bad at it.) I played back my first lesson. Then replayed the most recent one. I’d learned to release tension. I’d stopped pushing. There was no pressure.

My voice was there.

Last week I was singing “Moonglow” to Suzanne, accompanied by a YouTube video. I nailed a tricky line and unconsciously took an extra beat to mentally pat myself on the back. But that caused me to come in late for the next phrase, which then caused me to giggle. I said to Suzanne, “I was congratulating myself on the last line.”

Suzanne laughed her guru laugh. “You have to stay in the moment. The song doesn’t wait for you.”


Waking Up Depressed: Pt. 2

When I was knocked out by depression last week, readers emailed to check up on me. They texted. They called! I was surprised by the power in phrases like this: “I’m glad you’re alive.” “I’m glad you are pinned to life.” Simple, straightforward. And yet, when you’re in a dark place, these ideas are inconceivable. It’s a cliché to say words can’t express my gratitude. There seems to be no way of saying thank you without...

When I was knocked out by depression last week, readers emailed to check up on me. They texted. They called! I was surprised by the power in phrases like this: “I’m glad you’re alive.” “I’m glad you are pinned to life.” Simple, straightforward. And yet, when you’re in a dark place, these ideas are inconceivable. 

It’s a cliché to say words can’t express my gratitude. There seems to be no way of saying thank you without sounding like a discount greeting card. But, I do hope my readers experience even a tiny fraction of the kindness they showed me. In fact, to everyone who thought of me, I say:

May you be swept away by gully washers of kindness.

May you find pots of happiness at the end of the rainbow.

May you always awaken to a sunrise of love. 

May your dreams be gluten-free.

May the wind be at your back. (Unless you need it beneath your wings.)

May the storm pass you by. (Unless you’re a storm chaser.)

May your monkey mind settle down and enjoy a banana. 

May your swallows make it back to Capistrano.

May your kittens be fluffy and your puppies have puppy dog eyes.

May your bees’ knees be free from arthritis and your cat’s pajamas be silk. 

May your memory foam mattress remember you fondly. 

May the cockles of your heart be warmed by my gratitude.

Thank you.


Link to Category: Author Blogs

Or if you prefer use one of our linkware images? Click here

Social Bookmarks


Available Upgrade

If you are the owner of Dawn Downey's Blog: Stories About Mindfulness, Gratitude, and Transformation, or someone who enjoys this blog why not upgrade it to a Featured Listing or Permanent Listing?


Wordpress VS Blogger? Submit Your Blog!