Category Archives: living a good life

The Creative Epiphany – Sunday Mornings in America

Posted on by Jo Ann Brown-Scott

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Norman Rockwell’s (1894-1978) Paintings, titled TRIPLE SELF-PORTRAIT,  SUNDAY MORNING and ART CONNOISSEUR, www.nrm.org

 

For many people I know Sunday mornings are special. Sundays mean various things to various people but without fail they are different than any other day of the week. It is not a religious thing to which I am referring, although certainly that is an important component of many people’s Sunday mornings, but for me Sunday mornings do seem very much a spiritual thing. A loosely structured ritual, worshiping a way of life. It is a renewal of sorts – a chance to catch up on a little sleep, a chance to linger in bed which is a treat in the coldness of a winter morning, listening to the quiet sounds outside your window. You might decide to turn on TV and watch SUNDAY MORNING with Charles Osgood, a lovely program that always feeds my soul with stories of art, literature, film, food, music and other uplifting information. It renews my appreciation of creativity and often I am inspired to paint the afternoon away after watching it, or go see a film that has been discussed.

Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and jelly – or maybe blueberry pancakes and syrup – the kitchen comes alive and the smells are better than any other morning of the week. You allow yourself time to enjoy it, reading the paper, maybe you stay in your PJ’s until noon. Football! Ahhh – what will we have for snacks during the game? The Broncos come on at 2:25 against the Chiefs! Nachos? Burgers? A big hearty pot of chili with all the toppings? Brownies and ice cream for desert…who can we call to see if they want to come over and watch the game? We can have a pre-game football game out in the yard so tell them to get ready for that and dress warm. If it snows we’ll go sledding instead.

In my mind, since I speak the language of art, I always visualize Sundays as Norman Rockwell occasions. For me, that fine gentleman artist whose illustrations graced the covers of the  SATURDAY EVENING POST magazine captured the essence of how we live, what we do, what occupies our thoughts and what things warm our hearts. He was a true American artist who chronicled our lives in realistic, emotional images that will live forever. I have at times lived a Norman Rockwell kind of life – difficult to sustain but never the less do-able at certain moments in time. Memories are made of this, as the song goes. Sundays are for the best of friends and family. When I count life’s blessings, I will always remember Sunday mornings and the people I spent the best ones with. You all know who you are.

The Creative Epiphany – Weathering Life

Posted on by Jo Ann Brown-Scott

7- Midday Migration Mixed Media Collage titled “Midday Migration” by Jo Ann Brown-Scott

We are expecting high winds in the Denver area today – 40-60 miles per hour with gusts as high as 90 in the foothills of the Rockies. When the wind is angry like that, building up a furious intensity in the high mountains, blowing and spitting snow as it barrels down through the deep canyons just 15 minutes away from where I live, you can be sure it will race across the flatlands of Denver and its bedroom communities like the breath from a science fiction monster. Until recently I used to say how much I love weather drama, then the storms began – Katrina, the Tsunamis in Indonesia and Japan, Hurricane Sandy, epic Colorado flooding and the monumental typhoon in the Philippines. The big boy storms moved in and  began their 100 year visits, skirting the globe, scouting for random selections. Things have changed in the world of weather.

How is your internal weather? Fair to partly cloudy? Sunny and warm?

Are there storms that rage inside? What is your emotional forecast? All that is happening with-out cannot help but be reflected with-in. Weather disasters, political lies and scandals, crime, personal loss and misfortune, unhealthy personal relationships – all of that and more – cause emotional mayhem, creating internal havoc and unease. Feeling powerless in the face of large scale situations is painfully frustrating and destructive. We receive a steady does of bad news every day, built upon the results of yesterday’s surprises, then we get “updates” on the lingering miseries of months ago and it goes on like a bad soap opera. Of course there are human interest stories of courage and hope….crumbs…. evidencing the generosity, kindness and resilience of human beings. Show me some good news and I will try to remember it as the rotten news piles up and fills the streets of my mind.

Your internal climate is important to your health and wellbeing. We all know that.

When you get knotted up like a ball of string, what do you do to cope? How do you get up in the morning willing to face another day? Tell me what keeps you standing upright when there is so much that tries to knock you down. Tell me how you sleep at night, in the warmth of your bed, when there are babies dying for lack of food. How do we go on? What gives us the strength to continue, knowing that we have so little power to facilitate change?

I will tell you that for me, for insignificant me, the deep belief that change can one day be achieved is based upon faith that every positive personal thought, every positive casual comment, every smile, every tear that you blot for someone else, every word of encouragement, every shoulder offered to lean on, every dollar spent wisely, every single hopeful contribution to every other person or situation that you encounter counts. I do absolutely believe, especially now in this golden age of communication, that what every person says and does and feels and thinks makes ripples around the globe. How could it not? I do not care what social status you enjoy or do not have, what you might have amassed in the way of wealth, what your home looks like, what wine you like to drink, what kind of designer shoes you might be wearing – I want to know if you care about your fellow man/woman enough to worry about how we are going to feed the children.  We are all connected – we are all related – are we not all thinking about the same things? We all want our children to be fed, sheltered, clothed and educated. We all want peace, freedom and  the opportunity to prosper. And by the way, all the children are yours and my children too.

The epiphany comes when you realize that if you, you who do not wear designer shoes, are only able to affect positive change within your relatively small circle, that is, in the eyes of the universe, still a worthy cause. Buddha would tell you that if he was standing right there in your living room. Gaining peace of mind amid worldly chaos is possible in the performance of even the tiniest, kindest gestures. In my recent travels I saw acts of kindness, randomly given, received with great thankfulness and astonishment. Doing nothing is not an option. There is no excuse for failing to contribute to the common good. Make yourself an ambassador. You do what you alone can do in the moment of opportunity, you become the example to be followed, you teach through positive action, you strive to understand how something turned wrong so that you might know how to make it right again….and yes perhaps then you become a human interest story on the news after all. Coping is often the same as contributing – they go hand in hand. Coping with worldly dysfunction can be as simple as being a small but mighty force in your own small world for the cause of reason and peace – a force that is strong enough in intensity to become a ripple that widens and travels outside your world. You will want to get up in the morning if you feel that your personal mission is to do good. Because you matter. Every person, prominent or not, who has accomplished positive change, had to realize in a grand moment of epiphany that they mattered. 

             hawaii 008

The Creative Epiphany – Re-opening Doors

Posted on by Jo Ann Brown-Scott

Moroccan Door

“There is a time to let things happen and a time to make things happen.” – Hugh Prather

Last week I re-opened the door to a new, deeper friendship with an acquaintance I have had for years but seldom seen. We had lunch, for less than two hours, but it was a such a quality conversation about art, life, etc.  – time well spent in other words  – that I wished it could have continued long into the afternoon. It was a brilliant moment in time, most informative and encouraging, and I was pleasantly surprised at how much I learned and how uplifted I felt as a result of that lunch. It was just what I needed and apparently my friend felt the same intellectual connection. I will be seeing more of her. Thanks for your valuable time Jane!

I have recently been concerned with how I spend my time….and I do mean SPEND. It is a commodity that is limited, precious and of great value to me – in regard to time, I am no longer wealthy. Suddenly I am on a time budget because I don’t have forever anymore. Remember when you felt that your life stretched out before you and time was plentiful? Those days are gone for me. A sense of urgency has roughly, rudely, nudged away any comfortable, mental lounging around and replaced it with a “hurry up and do it now” kind of antsy-ness. My new normal state of mind is that I am freshly agitated every single morning, at a time when a lot of people my age are picking up speed with their lack of activity….under the false assumption that they have time enough left to waste.

It is a daily challenge, feeling the urgency of life’s timeline. It is sometimes energizing and other times frightening, or even at certain junctures, downright ridiculous. It is easy to feel foolish about some of the things you find yourself doing. Should I keep my appointment to get a haircut at 1pm or do I have to start planning my trip around the world this afternoon instead? I may not have time for both…

Why don’t I have more stuff on my bucket list? I am missing about a thousand things or more – I need to look around for some other stuff to add and compiling that list will take some time. But I also must save time to paint a great body of work. People are asking me for a third book – I have one lying dormant on my PC right now that could be brought to life with a few breaths of oxygen and a slap in the face.

I haven’t seen my relatives in Ohio for the longest time but I need to see Bangkok. Guilt. What to choose.

So I begin to paint a fresh body of work, wondering how long that will take, measuring NOW against how long it took me when I was relaxed and had time for enjoying the journey. I want to enjoy the journey, I really do, but the stretch of highway I am traveling on is going off the right edge of the map. I know that painting while relaxed is so much more successful than painting in a hurry. But I am….usually….in a mental hurry. I need to smell the roses.

Not ever intending to be maudlin, at least in public conversation, I am usually able to temper my “lack of time terror” with humor and a staunch denial of the numbers of life. The birthdays. The decades. The number of summers I might have left. That’s just way too real for me. I prefer to live in the LA-LA Land part of my brain where I am convinced that the sixties are the new forties and the seventies are the new fifties. I heard that on TV and I want so badly to believe it. HUH? Laughing at that, are you? Wait until you are right there in life….you are suddenly willing to bargain with the devil, the statisticians, the medical researchers and the doubters all at once as the ever growing doom & gloom group they are. Whatever the hell works at keeping the life in my days and the optimism in my years is what I am hanging onto. I actually believe it is almost all mental, but as I say that I look over my shoulder to make sure an unannounced  train is not approaching. Luck certainly plays its part.

Anyway, finding a “new” old friend who speaks my language and lights up my life and who is wise, funny and smart is a true blessing. You are defined in large part by the company you keep and the things you think constantly about, so I am grateful to have a generous handful of quality people around me. The older I get, the more I realize that spending any of my hard-earned time dollars on people who bring me down and contribute less than a quality experience to my precious schedule are sooner or later going to become expendable. Unfortunately I just don’t have hours left in my days for the whiners. If a friend of mine needs help, or a shoulder to lean on, I am 100% in and available, as everybody in my life knows, but if I hear nothing but superficial moaning, groaning and complaining – well then I am sorry but I no longer have the time for that.

Gotta run.

The Creative Epiphany – Wherever You Go, There You Are

Posted on by Jo Ann Brown-Scott

fragile From Northern California back to Denver…..

On the fifth night in my new residence, dead tired from unpacking and lifting and climbing stairs and settling in, I woke in the night wondering where I was. It was as if I had been in a coma and regained consciousness, and had no idea of my location. Without moving a muscle I looked around. There was bright moonlight cutting through the deep purple darkness  in long narrow slices made by slatted blinds I swore I never bought.  I was wondering – which window was it? I don’t have a window like this one, do I? What room am I in? Where am I? Oh yes, I gradually realized. Someone had moved my bed across 3 states and put it down in a room that didn’t make any sense to me…yet.

When you change your residence you don’t have to be half asleep to wonder where you are. Moments of confusion come at unexpected times when you can’t comprehend how it all happened, although it was a 3 month process. You need something from the fridge and you open the pantry, you turn right headed for the bathroom and it takes you into the laundry room. If you get up at night for a drink of water you impact the wall where you thought there was a door with such force that you wonder if you broke your face.

Moving is not easy. But it is worth it, if you are fortunate enough to have done it for all the right reasons. In my previous blog post, titled SURFACING, I gave you enough info to know that this move of mine has been a wonderful leap, coming at a time in my life when recharging the batteries of my heart and soul was the right decision. Moving is always a major jolt and a chaotic endeavor, however, no matter how you plan it and attend to details. The members of my family do a lot of it. We are all gypsies who will leave point A and flash forward to point B for reasons of career opportunities, quality of life and being closer to those you love most. They said one night on Animal Planet that all the great migrations of the animal species are made for just 3 reasons – plentiful food, water and mating opportunities. Some things are just universal.

My brother and sister and I were born in Ohio and we have made our individual journeys to the West with relish and perseverance. Kind of like Sherman’s march to the sea. We burned some bridges behind us in the process but it was worth it and no one was injured. Then one of us moved back east again, but south. We Ping-Pong around.

It is an energizing event in life – the move. It wakes you up at your deepest core, at the very least. It requires a great, complicated  thought process to purge and pack. I have it down to a system, having moved about 25 times in my life. Each of those times, I learned more and refined my process. I have dozens of tricks and short-cuts up my sleeves by now, learned in the deep trenches of relocation suffering. My sister says I ought to write a book about it. But I am too busy doing other fun stuff.

I actually enjoy waking up in the night wondering where I am. I look around for clues and it comes to me eventually. And maybe some far off night when the clues in the darkness make no sense at all to me, and the familiar answers as to my location do not filter into my mind, well then…..my moving days will be over.

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The Creative Epiphany – Flashing Before My Eyes

Posted on by Jo Ann Brown-Scott

boxesstuffstotes

My life is flashing before my eyes in Technicolor dreams of days gone by. Excuse the melancholy interlude. It was bound to happen.

Relocating to another area, another state, familiar as it is to me and as highly motivated as I am, still seems a heavy load to carry alone. I see, with every item that is packed, a long life placed neatly in boxes, as if it could be condensed to just that. Small a space. With a lid on it. In spite of  my pride all these years at not having a lid on it. No matter how many boxes there are, the headlines of my life, the subplots, the nuances, the places and faces and times and history that define a life well lived are almost all missing, without documentation. They could not make enough boxes…to hold a lifetime of my experience. And so, for the most part, my memories are lost in space, floating in and out of the bank of clouds in my mind where they have enough room to stay.

Every goodbye changes a relationship. I am a good and loyal communicator – I do well at keeping in touch. But it is never quite the same. I will miss seeing the spontaneous expression, the revealing tear pooling up in the corner of an eye, the laugh lines deepening and the weathering of a human face. Your face and mine…because we are reflected in the eyes of eachother. Being with someone who is telling a story is a priceless window of sharing when bonds are made based upon visual impressions, heartfelt exchanges, and unspoken words. Oh you can Skype and you can do face-time, but the daily connection is what will be most missed. Because life is that – so very daily. It grinds forward like a heavy wheel, ponderous and unrelenting, and yet each moment is rare and fleeting. Such an odd contradiction. The slowly rolling wheel and the nano-second flash of a memory.

As James Taylor sings,”The SECRET OF LIFE is enjoying the passage of time.”

He also says, “Take to the highway……walkin’ on COUNTRY ROADS…..reckon my feet know where they want me to go…..walkin’ on country roads.

“SHOWER THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE WITH LOVE. Show them the way that you feel. You can run but you cannot hide. Shower the people you love with love. Things are gonna turn out right if we only will.”

From his song FIRE & RAIN  – “Just yesterday morning they let me know you were gone….I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain….Lord knows when the cold wind blows it’ll turn your head around…I’ve seen sunny days and I thought they’d never end….but I always thought I would see you again….somehow one more time again…..thought I’d see you one more time again….say nice things about me now…..I’m gone.”

To be continued at the other end of this journey….mid-July. Denver. My Rocky Mountain home.

The Creative Epiphany – I Ache to Paint

Posted on by Jo Ann Brown-Scott

Roy

Mixed Media Collage titled For Roy by Jo Ann Brown-Scott

I dedicate this Blog entry to Roy Stauth….writer, adventurer and friend of Africa

With my previous blog entry I discussed the tendency of creativity to be dormant and downright absent in times of severe stress, but then, if you are not blocking its entry, to gradually come back through the door of your soul when you need it most. Creativity is your lifetime companion, there for the longest haul. It is a human quality awarded to you and all others free at birth. You need only be present to win it. Creativity’s presence is multi-purposed – to heal you and to be your companion when you most need her; to provide an emotional release; to communicate a message; to channel your angst (or your total joy) into a creation that might live on beyond you, thus leaving your unique mark on the world. Creativity almost always offers the world a message of your choice. Thanks to our predecessors who forged the path toward freedom of expression, you have the ultimate choice of deciding what to say and how to say it through your creativity. People are no longer compelled to paint for the emperor….they have a choice.

The process of being creative requires an opening up of your soul which brings an exposure of your human vulnerabilities and a willingness to take responsibility for what results. If the result of your creativity is a painting, for example, you will most assuredly always remember what it was you were going through at the time you painted it. It might reveal your deepest secrets for careful interpretation by the viewer, or to the casual viewer it may reveal nothing. But YOU know what is there, and if you are asked what prompted you to create such an image you will spill it out unapologetically. As with writing, if you are willing and able to “open a vein” and let it all bleed out of you, you are on the way to healing and communicating what you are all about. You are also on the way to greatness, because great works of art or literature always reveal passion. Only a handful of the great painters and writers, photographers, musicians and other creative folks ever gain recognition – there are many more out in the trenches whose greatness is never exposed to the public eye. I see their work everywhere and it thrills me.

During this time of moving to Denver I have had no time to paint. My brushes and tubes have been packed up for about 6 weeks now because I have had no time for the release of that passion. I feel like an explosion waiting to happen. Or Hoover damn about to spring a huge gushing leak. I am storing up creative energy and I pity the person who might be standing in my way when my new studio is finally set up and I am ready to walk in there and paint again – I will  mow over them like an 18 wheeler. Blood could be shed.

It is super strong, this need to create. It is a force of nature, its evidence still on the walls of ancient caves. With humanity came creativity, with creativity comes greater humanity and understanding. It is a thirst, almost equal to water and air and food in its ability to satisfy a yearning. My old college fine art professor told us that unless we were willing to sell our shoes to buy paint during a blizzard, we were not a true artist. Fortunately I never had to do that, but I probably would have if I had needed to, because my creativity would have instructed me how to make shoes out of something I had on hand.

The thousands of people who blog are manifesting the human need for expression. The need is all consuming. It is undeniable and larger than life, and yet many people around the globe have no means of creative expression available to them. Think how that might feel. We live in a day and time when the people without a voice are growing and the people who do have the means to express themselves are also growing. The wide disparity between the voice-less and the voices is alarming. I feel so fortunate to have several means of expressing myself. Many in the world do not. But that is an entire other problem of such enormity that I can barely stand to address it. Creativity is nothing to be taken for granted, and I never do. If you are among the relatively few on the planet who enjoy the freedom of giving it expression then lucky be you. The creativity you employ as your loyal and dedicated servant is your light in the darkness, and hopefully you will use it wisely and for the greater good, and heal your soul with it as well.

I live, I love, I paint. And I do write.

The Creative Epiphany – I Didn’t Ask For a Shirt From Bangladesh

Posted on by Jo Ann Brown-Scott

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

As an American it offends me when the clothing manufacturers complain that “nice” clothing must be made in sweat shops of poverty stricken countries like Bangladesh because the profit margin they seek demands it  – it is cheaper to do it there. They also say that we Americans demand such clothing. Who in their right mind would want to support such conditions? Never once have I wished for a something-or-other originating from a Bangladesh factory. I read labels, of course, and if I ever saw a label on an article of clothing with the slightest reference that it was made there I would not purchase it. But it’s hard to tell. You can GOOGLE Bangladesh clothing and find endless lists of specific articles of clothing made there, and elsewhere under similar conditions, but barely any reference to the BRAND names that are sewn into those garments. And where were the buttons made? The zippers? The rivets?

Lauren Laverne has written a timely article online in THE GUARDIAN – see link below.

Here is a brief excerpt of what she says:

“This week’s column, therefore, is a plea to fashion producers for traceability of their supply chain, and a mention for brands and services which supply those things to consumers. Frustratingly, at the top end of the market that kind of accountability is easier to come by, but there’s no reason the high street should be exempt from offering similar guarantees. As Lucy Siegle noted in this newspaper, big brands distancing themselves from the factories in which their goods are produced is part of their business model. It helps safeguard their profit margin. If consumers demand they become accountable in great enough numbers, they will.”

http://www.guardian.co.uk/fashion/2013/may/19/lauren-laverne-shopping-conscience-rana-plaza

After doing some digging around I was able to find some specific brand names associated with these rundown and dangerous Bangladesh factories. I was disgusted and surprised but will not name names here in my blog…..no lawsuits please. It’s information that is findable. Every once in a while an American manufacturer is exposed as being just one of the many guilty of exploiting poverty stricken people in the most disgusting of workplace conditions or is using child labor. Of course much of the responsibility is with the owners of the actual buildings in these countries and the lack of building codes enforcement, and so as Americans the only valid means of registering our alarm and disapproval is through the money chain. It starts with identifying the owners of the major brand name clothing companies who are the violators and then it trickles directly down to you and me – we are the ones who determine their financial success. We can make or break them, or make such a large dent in their business that it gets their attention, but it takes a big organized village to do that.

The issue extends to fabrics used in home furnishings and even art. Indonesian fabrics, as just one example, are gorgeous, using silk threads in an intricate tapestry-like weave, incorporating metallic threads and brilliant colors which lend to some of them a Renaissance  brocade quality. I have used them in fabric collage with great success.

I would just like to have the right to make a choice that can be made intelligently, based upon information and truth in labeling. While shopping, I would prefer to know where the product originates. Not only the country but the factory! That seems quite simple, actually. I don’t want to be one of the uninformed Americans who perpetuates the problem. I would never consciously choose clothing over people. We are all connected in this world, on this big blue planet, and what happens around the globe happens also to me.

buddha

The Creative Epiphany – It’s Not Rocket Surgery – romance and the active senior

Posted on by Jo Ann Brown-Scott

 

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I have decided to take a slight departure from my usual range of subject matter today and offer just a few of my observations on the senior citizen dating scene. Yes it does exist and is only very slightly altered by considerations of age. For those of you who cannot believe that anyone over the age of whatever could possibly enjoy an active love-life, read on and have an epiphany if you would like to be encouraged by valid observations and evidence. For those of you who really don’t give a hoot because you are in complete denial that you will ever get older, refer back to this blog when you realize you are not in the slightest degree exempt from the process of aging. Any way you look at it, it is indeed a fact that intimacy and sex continue beyond…beyond what? Far beyond the age you would guess they would.

There is a sparkling, tumbling, gurgling irridescent waterfall here at the entrance to our Sun City Active Senior Community that falls playfully into a deep teal green pond. We all refer to it as Viagra Falls. Things are suddenly different for our generation of seniors with the advent of the little blue pill. There is now a smile on faces that used to be permanently scowling and a spring in the step of many a resident. I like to compare our time of life as near closing time at the saloon. The music is lowered to a slow dance, the lights are dimmed and everyone is looking around for someone to help them make it through the night. The closer it gets to 2am the more urgent is the energy in the room. We all want someone to love for a little while or forever of what is left – whether it is the right one or the “right now” one. Nothing changes as the years go by. Love and romance are what make the world go around. Divorce happens at any age these days, or people die, and life goes on for the ones left who treasure it and want it to continue.

It’s Saturday afternoon Happy Hour at the Sports Bar.

The silver-haired gentleman slithers almost silently onto the bar stool next to the lovely lady, settles in and whispers in her ear, “Do you like waterfalls?”

“Well, sure I do,” she answers, glancing over at  him, wondering what is coming next. He’s wearing a faded pair of jeans with one knee torn and frayed (how youngish of him), he has a muscular upper body and a wide, mischievous smile deepening the canyons of the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth. His blue eyes are twinkling. Loafers without socks.

“Why don’t we hop in my golf cart and run up the hill to my house. I have a waterfall in my back yard. Had my landscape architect build it for me. I’ll wrap you in a blanket and make you comfortable in one of my deck chairs. I’ll hand you an adult beverage of your choice and we’ll talk, watch the sun go down and just see what happens. It’ll be fun.”

“Is it difficult to build a waterfall?” she inquires, trying to buy some time and keep a grip on the conversation. She is looking cute in her capris and red, scoop-necked summer sweater.

“No! Making a waterfall is easy – not like rocket surgery,” he says confidently.

Humorous, yes, but there are many other fine examples of great friends being made and people finding eachother at just the right point in time, when it is only the Indian Summer or late fall of  life. There is still much to do before winter comes, in the company of a romantic companion who is also determined to remain open minded and enthusiastic when it comes to love. Similar stories play out on every weekend, and usually “she” does not just leap into his golf cart and take off with the wind in her hair, but my point is that the games are the same at the Sports Bar as they have always been – only the ages have changed. The beat goes on. Let the games begin.

The good news is that people are grabbing for the gusto and wringing every bit of juicy living they can out of the time they have left. Imaginative flirting and warm romance are alive and kicking, memories are still being made, and it is not over until it’s over. The bad news? There is none. You just have to appreciate the spunk of it, don’t you? Living creatively is the best revenge against those damn wrinkles. Life is left for those who take it.

The Creative Epiphany – Life is a Three Ring Circus

Posted on by Jo Ann Brown-Scott

 

oct11 002 Painting by Jo Ann Brown-Scott titled Red Sea at Night, Sailor’s Delight

As I was having dinner with a couple friends the other night we happened upon the subject of getting older – a subject we don’t dwell on here where we live but it does rear its gray and wrinkled head from time to time. We live in  a  lovely 55+ active senior community of over 7,000 households that affords us many choices for how we might enjoy spending our leisure time. Sun City here in Lincoln, CA is a state of the art senior retirement area that has it all. We are located in the rolling hills leading into the Sierras, halfway between SF Bay and Lake Tahoe, so we can certainly keep ourselves busy when we go “off campus” as well. There are many people here who still work, and many who do very well at staying productive and relevant although they are completely retired. I have had a part-tine job here for the past 3 years teaching adult art classes, so I fall somewhere in the middle. The lifestyle we wake up to every morning is a positive example for anyone over 55 who is dedicated to staying active and young at heart for as long as possible.

One of my friends mentioned that she doesn’t like to volunteer her age in social gatherings because some rude harsh realists instantaneously make a judgment to themselves about her when she does – mentally placing her in a category they see as appropriate to that number, thus stereotyping her based upon no actual factual information. It drove her crazy – she could see it happen before her eyes. They either made remarks of utter amazement at her ability to stay looking and acting so young, as if she was some mutant who had drunk from the fountain of youth, or they saw her as doomed any minute when her age finally caught up with her. So she made a conscious decision to be “age-free” similar to some people who never discuss their weight and refuse to acknowledge a scale.

They said recently on TV (and sometimes we want to believe what we hear on TV) that 70 is the new 50. Well! That got the attention of many people I know. You can call this denial or readjustment of numbers a silly tactic or you can call it clever marketing….. I happen to believe it is no one’s business how old you are or how much you weigh. Who cares. I certainly don’t. But I will say this – when you arrive at certain pivotal markers in life, you do begin to realize that you may no longer be in the “center ring”. You pick up on subtle clues…in a heated discussion of some topic, for instance, involving a group of people of which you are the oldest, you realize that no one cares what you think. No one asks, no one wonders, no one directs the conversation your way. Or perhaps a group starts making plans for an activity that is quite physical, maybe a hike, and instead of asking if you’d like to participate, they assume it’s going to be too strenuous for you and leave you out of the plans. No one wants to be dragging your sorry ass up the trail. And maybe it is too strenuous, but an invitation would still be nice. Please let me hold onto my dignity; I will decide what is too strenuous for me. Maybe I’ll die trying but that’s for me to decide. Maybe I’ll just stop halfway up and eat my lunch.

It is difficult to start feeling irrelevant long before you really are. Many cultures include the older members of the family in their extended living arrangements, and that seems to me a great way of elongating  the productive years for seniors. There is usually something we seniors can contribute to the family whole that is valued and helpful, and being included in daily conversations and activities of the people you love is a crucial to feeling relevant. It has been proven that longevity is far more likely if accompanied by a healthy and happy quality of life that gives you several reasons to get up in the morning, whether it is a garden to tend, a pet to feed, a child to read to, a porch to sweep or just a friend to have coffee with on a regular basis.

The circus of life does have 3 rings, and even a carnival side-show. The trick is to figure out how you can continue to be productive in some arena. Then after that, be a little assertive about holding your place in the order of things. Don’t vacate your hard-fought territory.  Offer your opinions, laugh and listen to the conversations around you. Insist on being the same you that you have always been. This is not our parents world; this is not Leave it to Beaver or Ozzie and Harriet. This is the brand new 21st century and the statistics say we are going to be around longer. However we choose to handle ourselves as active seniors, you can be sure we are being observed. We are the new Poster Children for active senior living. Let’s make some noise about it and leave everyone proud we were here for so long.

The Creative Epiphany – Distance

Posted on by Jo Ann Brown-Scott

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Distance has  been a challenge for me most of my life. Physical, geographical distance; the distance between me and the people in my life that I care most about. I am part of the problem, because I have moved a lot since leaving Ohio to pursue my love of art at the University of Colorado and then due to my husband’s work – Air Force living led us on a meandering path from South Carolina to Montana to Colorado, with stops at various states in between for weeks of pre-Viet Nam jungle survival training in Mississippi, and much later, missile  training  at Vandenberg AFB in California. Followed, after Air Force life ended, by the solitary life of the traveling salesman’s wife.

But those days are long gone and the distancing continues. I might sound like a whiner now, maybe for just a little bit, but my intention is to present the facts as they are. When the children became adults, thanks to the ease of 21st century travel, their endless curiosity and their ability to successfully combine career and exploration, they both became moving targets. That’s the good news and the distance news.

I have had no choice but to get used to it. Nepal, Peru, Bolivia, Argentina, Chile, Canada, London, Singapore, Yemen, Guatemala, Kurdistan, Thailand, Cambodia, Viet Nam, Panama, The Philippines, Bali, Bhutan, Antarctica, New Zealand, Poland, Turkey, Greece, Africa, Madagascar, and the list goes on. I’m sure I have forgotten some. Oh yes I am very proud! They say the best gift you can give your children is wings, and I was able to do that. This has really been something to watch unfold and I do at times live vicariously through their adventures. It has always positively influenced my art – the stories! the photos! the people they meet! the exotic gifts brought home for me! What a joy it has been to observe! But there are always a couple days here and there when I think, ok that’s enough now. Come home. Stay. Don’t move. Get over it.

But where IS home? Ah that is the catch. They have made homes everywhere to the point where home is not anywhere and yet it is everywhere. And of course I am moving my headquarters – yes me – “house and home” is moving again – a happy move from California back to Denver in mid-July. The saying goes, “Bloom where you are planted.” And I always do. The pieces of the re-location puzzle, looking backward, always make perfect sense in retrospect. An experience in one place affords you a stepping stone to your next move and the ways in which you will continue to be productive there. This time, based upon my three years of teaching adult art classes here in California (on top of literally a lifetime of painting) plus some particular life-long passions and affinities,  and having friends who share them, I see a magnificent possibility on my horizon based out of my new Denver headquarters. As I look back on things I realize that my art has always presented the path that has taken me where I wanted to go. It is my soul’s home place and my anchor. At this point my next adventure is  too far off to be specific about – but too close not to begin moving toward it. This will be my best move yet, and when the dust settles, you will be the first ( well maybe the second) to know what happens! I do believe that everything in my life has brought me to this….this position of strength.

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The painting is by Jo Ann Brown-Scott, titled Strength from her Soul Flags series.