This week feels as if I’ve gone on vacation—transported to another place where the temperatures are perfect, and I have time to read a book or light a candle and watch it burn.
Mickey’s back went out, and life as we know it—schedules, deadlines, and commitments —changed, just like that. Back pain has a way of leveling the playing field of life. What you could do just a moment ago suddenly becomes impossible. This includes standing up, sitting down, picking up a glass of water, putting on socks, singing a song, and holding a guitar.
Not being able to do what you do is almost more painful than the actual pain. I can share this because I had a similar experience in December. In my case, sweeping a few leaves off the patio was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak.
My body healed, and I was reminded it could use a little help now and then with strengthening exercises. I’ll admit, I’ve taken it for granted most of my life. I’ve always been strong and flexible—able to climb mountains and ladders, and carry heavy things like speakers and furniture. My mind tells me I can still do all these things, but my body says hold on a minute, let’s think about this first.
So when those weightless leaves brought me to my knees, I was ready to listen. As soon as I was able, I added a repetition of “bird dog” to my daily routine. I’m not sure if this is the official name of a pose; my friend, who is professionally trained in physical therapy, suggested I do this.
As I stretch out an opposing arm and leg, I’m reminded of a bird dog I once knew. Her name was Lucy. I think she was a German Shorthaired Pointer. She belonged to my veterinarian boss, Larry. I love that my mind has a sense of humor to keep me entertained while I knock out 40 bird dogs—every morning.
Thankfully, having “been there” has given me the gift of compassion as I watch Mickey wince in pain when an unwelcome sneeze strikes. He has been forced to take it easy, not just sing about it. And in taking it easy, we have both been enjoying Golden Hour.
As I mentioned earlier, the weather has been sublime these past few days. The coming onslaught of bugs hasn’t hatched yet, and the ones who have are still a bit groggy, so sitting outside has been quite enjoyable. Although I don’t have amazing sunset views from where I am, I do have the opportunity to witness something just as magical. While the sun is dropping into a distant horizon, “headed off for business west somewhere,” as Kim Richey sang in one of my favorite songs, Just Like the Moon, the sky is changing colors, “watercolor pink, and gold, and blue.”
As the light begins to fade during Golden Hour, I’ve come to notice a subtle order of events. First, a solitary bat comes into view. Then a second bat joins in on the dinner party. Then, when it’s just dark enough, my solar cactus light pops on—one of my favorite impulse buys. It looks like a neon light. Perfect for my trailer park patio/courtyard. Several minutes later, two blown glass mushrooms also light up. They were my mom’s. They had quit working, but through a bit of troubleshooting, we discovered a blown LED was the culprit. Mickey just happened to have several dozen. They must be the same kind used in guitar pedals—who knew?
Back to Golden Hour. Years ago, I attended a dinner party in a lovely home in Laurel Canyon, California. The host lit dozens, if not a hundred, candles and placed them strategically on the patio. It was so beautiful that I have never forgotten the ambiance it created.
I have recreated this effect more than once. Since we are under a fire burn here, I placed tealight candles inside the chiminea, on blocks of wood, and in planters for my Golden Hour celebration these past few nights.
What I’ve enjoyed most about my Golden Hour parties is remembering that life happens in the transitions—between light and dark, day and night, dawn to dusk. It’s lived in the middle, in the changes—not before or after.
Not in waiting for what’s next, but noticing and enjoying what is.
See you at Golden Hour.