Meaningless numbers

Today I took my 97 year old mother to the Jane Brattain Boutique to be fitted for a new prosthesis and brassieres. She is by far the oldest lady they have ever fitted and in many ways, most challenging. Many skinny old ladies who have lost a breast just stop wearing bras altogether and I can see why.

My father met her in 1959 when she was in her forties. She was a knockout and wore a 36 D bra for a long, long time. She is a 32 year breast cancer survivor and has never looked back or mourned the loss of her breast. She is happy to be alive. Some years ago she became so lopsided that her doctor sent her for a reduction on that side and she liked her smaller breast.

Four years ago she measured as a 38B. But she has lost more weight and her bras are hurting her. Today she still measured at 38, but they didn't feel good. The kind young woman finally found that worked best is a 40AA. The old lady was flummoxed; how could those be her numbers? She had never been that small or that large. As she has shrunk vertically, and as her back is bending, the rib cage is expanding. As she has lost weight, all the fat in her breast is gone leaving flat skin. The fitter put in an evener, kind of a lifter, on the good side to even her out.

Well, this is a lot of information and I will finally get to the point. It is about arbitrary numbers and what we think of those numbers and how we let them affect our thinking and lives. 40AA? She is so very skinny, and not even when she was twelve did she wear a double A bra. "But I've always been so busty" she kept repeating. And size 40 chest? The old man only had a 36" chest before he died.

I remember crying over scale numbers when I was younger. I remember cutting a label out of a pair of shorts because I couldn't imagine wearing size 18 shorts. And now, I am much heavier and wear size 14. How can that be? I know a young mother, slim and beautiful as can be, who worries she is not the same weight as pre baby. It is just numbers and numbers can lie. I look in the mirror and see a woman approaching sixty years old. The make-up lady tells me my skin looks younger, but catching myself unaware in a shop window, I don't even recognize that person. Is that me? How can that be?

The baseball great, Satchel Paige said, "How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?" The old lady has to be reminded she is old, in her mind she is still young. I think I would be 36 again, if I could appreciate it more. As it is, I will wear what looks good, no matter what the label says, and apply for jobs no matter the age I think they want. Because what are numbers anyway? Just a way of either enjoying or avoiding being here in the moment. And anyway, 60 is the new 50. Time to do this decade right.

Learning compassion

I've been reading about compassion and learning what I thought was compassion is just the start. I thought being compassionate meant putting yourself in the other guys shoes and trying to understand why they are the way they are. Then I could put aside enmity and practice empathy. People have told me on occasion that I am too gullible, too forgiving and that sometimes people don't deserve another chance, but holding on to anger hurts me, worse.

One Christmas, I think it was 2004, I innocently opened up a large, flat package from my nephews. It was wrapped in a garbage bag with a bow. I took one look, threw it on the floor and started shrieking and jumping on it. The room exploded in laughter, and it was too bad no one taped my response to the gift of a full size cardboard cut out of George W. Bush. They would have won $10,000. Yes, everyone knew how much I couldn't even stand to look at the man, no less his politics. But something happened to me while watching the Obama inauguration. GWB walked out onto the platform and hardly anyone, from either party, wanted to shake his hand. He looked so confused and suddenly, I felt sorry for him. I felt some empathy. I wanted to hang on to hate, but I couldn't.

Just recently, I saw a picture of someone who had modified their body in what I thought was an unwise way. I found myself thinking I would never do that. I am finally old enough to see whenever I say never, I am usually proved wrong. From microwave ovens to cell phones, all those nevers are gone. That is not to say I am endorsing tattoos, piercing, various surgical procedures, and foods. But I am starting to understand why a person might do these things and feel proud of the way they look. I stood in the shower and made the connection. The start of empathy, the start of compassion.

When I looked up the definition of compassion just now, I saw that it goes far beyond empathy and sympathy. It means to actively work to alleviate the suffering of others. I am not actively volunteering anywhere right now, just relieving the suffering of one old lady. Sometime soon, I hope to make compassion less a philosophy and more of a way of life.

Being here now

Today, tonight, I am very glad to be here now.

When my brother died at age 21, I was sure that I was next. I had to live all his dreams and all my dreams and do it in just a couple of years, because I was sure I was going to die young. I was 16 when he died and 21 when I was given the gift of Knowledge by Maharaji. And in that initiation where I was shown the Creator within myself, I was also made aware that if I can live this moment, and be aware, I need never fear death. That was 38 years ago. I'm too old, now, to die young. I hope I have another 30 or so years to keep learning and loving and enjoying life.

Today I took the old lady to see the movie Dolphin Tail. It got generally good reviews, it didn't put in too many subplots, and it was based on a true story. Afterwards she said that she didn't expect to like it but she loved it and thanked me for taking her to see it. Then we went to Rainbow for wonton soup and egg rolls. While we were there she said something nasty about someone, using awful words straight from the mouth of my father. She has no idea how loud she speaks and I had to say, "Mom, please! Everyone can hear you." One minute she is a darling 97 year old lady, and the next minute she is a sheet metal worker. Oh my God.

Later I went to a little holiday party at my building. I even had half a frozen rum drink. And later still, off to hear Rock It Science at Mainstreet Bar in Hopkins. Some friends from up north and down south were getting together there. I felt fine ordering club soda, and I felt fine leaving when I did. A little dancing, good company and no worries.

I thought I had a ton of wisdom to impart. Lucky, lucky readers, I can't remember it! I really am happy, though, just being here now.