REUNION

I'm getting excited about attending my 50th high school reunion. Getting reconnected with a few classmates on facebook, has increased the anticipation.

I sit on the porch mulling over what to wear. Amazing how priorities have shifted from looking good to feeling comfortable - but not totally at the expense of feeling like I'm looking good, too.

I have a million questions to ask and hope I get to ask them first. Otherwise, I won't know anymore than before about the past fifty years than I do now - I do love to talk!

Reflecting on the gap between then and now, and the whole lifes' times we've all lived, I reflected on how to greet these classmates.  Does a hug make sense?  We never hugged in high school. Does a kiss make sense?  Imagine kissing someone who you used to date?  Wouldn't that be a trip?!

A picnic, a breakfast, a dinner and other gatherings around the planned events can be nothing less than a great adventure into the unknown.

PROJECTION

Wouldn't interrelationships be different if everyone understood the fact that everything is projection. You see yourself in others is wisdom, old and still true.

I find myself, on occasion, receiving a comment on my character, personality trait, or irritation that I am to another. My response has come to be, "That may well be true, but why are you noticing with such passion?'

Campaign trail is upon us for the next few months. When I hear a candidate's speech - the part where he's pointing out the major flaws in his opponent - I ask the same well-worn question.  Too bad that candidate can't hear me and pay heed.

I sure would rejoice in listening to candidates waxing on about a glorious vision for the future and a corresponding platform for well thought through plans for the future.  I would enjoy listening to a candidate say in a totally non-defensive way, "I'm the Greatest!", as did Mohammad Ali once upon a time.

Isn't this what it takes to win - to be focused and confident in who I am and to believe in what I am proposing to be the policy?

At the Colliseum in Rome, Italy. This is where the dignitaries sat to watch the slaughter by lions of Jewish people and others.

CHAMELEON

I left my porch, went down stairs, got in my golf cart, and drove it into the shade

There I sat for a long time, watching the chameleons change color as they moved from the crepe myrtle to the green fence and back.

The sun was sparkling on the lake across the street, sparkles dancing to and fro on the slight breeze.

The weather right now is insufferably hot and humid, but the little breeze in a shady spot is refreshing enough for a relaxing sit.

Why did I leave my porch? I tore all the ligaments in my ankle area and have fractures in two or three places. The podiatrist gave me a cream for swelling and pain. It made me so sick, I wasn't sure I was going to live through it. So, I was sitting there in the shade in view of everyone in case I died. Silly? I didn't think so at the time.

Although I live the life I prefer, I am realizing that there are times at this end of life when being around people as a life style might not be preferable.

Co-housing? Certainly not an assisted living facility or going to live with a son.

A community of like souls? I will have to give it some thought.

In the meantime, no more stupid prescriptions for symptoms I already can manage with meditation and heat and cold.

ROSES

The roses I encountered in Italy were huge.

When I placed my hand, spread out around them in a wide cup, careful not to actually touch them, they filled the cup of my spreading hand.

Roses grow prolifically in Rome and Tuscany. In fact, they appear to grow like weeds.

Their aroma is not like the roses we get from the florist. Nor is it like the roses that grow in my garden here in Florida. They have a light, uplifting aroma which beckons a dance.

These roses in Italy seem to grow to be beheld, not to be picked and placed in a vase in the parlor.

Maybe, picking one rose bud,  placing it in a narrow vase on the desk, is an important role for a rose to play in the scheme of things.

Italy is full of ancient wonders, yes, but the most magnificent of all these wonders is the rose.

INSPIRATION

After two weeks in Italy, returning to my porch , I bring a new sense of belonging where I am. Images swirl through my inner movie screen so quickly and so prolifically, reflecting deeply is very difficult. 

The conference at Mondo Migliori in Rocca di Papa, the day in the Archives at Casa Assagioli, the stay at Villa la Stella, writing in the same garden where Dante was inspired to write, day at the mineral springs in Montecatini termi - massage and adventure into the grotto, walking tour through ancient Firenze, bus tour of Assisi and Cortona, visit at home of friend, Wanda and her showing me Montecatini Alto and her special place in the Chianti region, and the weekend  trip finale in Rome - to Trevi Fountain, the Colliseum, and bus tour of the city. Good food, good wine, great bread especially. 

And many experiences within those experiences.

I took opportunity at each experience to soak up the inspiration available and to renew a sense of true gratitude for being alive right here and now.

As the days now pass I will reflect more deeply, and artform the experience in its wholeness.

But, oh yes, I am indeed filled with inspiration. Actually leaving a place, having great experiences, and then returning appears to work in that way. 

This golden rose sits on the desk of Roberto Assagioli in Firenze