Chapter 1: The Snowy Reality

It’s February 17th, and I find myself on a snowy Saturday morning in Bucks County, PA, just an hour outside Philadelphia. A few weeks back, Punxsutawney Phil, our famous groundhog, predicted an early spring by failing to see his shadow. However, Mother Nature seems to have her own plans, as this marks the second snowstorm in just a week. After digging myself out last week, it’s time to do it again today.

In my younger days, the thrill of playing in the snow after clearing the driveway was exhilarating. But after a decade of health challenges, including a heart attack and a COPD diagnosis, shoveling snow has transformed from a joyful activity into a strenuous workout. I pace myself, taking breaks when necessary. My mother would often remind me that the excitement of a snow day would fade once I had to shovel and drive through it. At 65, I find her words to be sadly accurate; it has become a chore rather than a delight, yet I will still tackle it head-on.

As I sit here, listening to Sleepy Hollow on WXPN while still in my pajamas, I prepare for a Zoom presentation later. Breakfast was an unusual mix of vegetarian green eggs and ham—organic eggs blended with greens and avocado for a vibrant green hue, veggie sausage, and toast sprinkled with pumpkin pie spice, all washed down with ginger-lemon tea.

In contrast to my pre-pandemic life, where I was constantly on the move, I now embrace a slower pace. Once a social butterfly fluttering between gatherings and workshops, I now find joy in solitude within my colorful home. I’ve shifted from FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) to JOMO (Joy of Missing Out), relishing the tranquility of music, reading, writing, and napping on my off days. My routine often includes workouts at the gym squeezed in between watching my grandchildren in the mornings. Thanks to telehealth, my therapy practice allows me to work from home more often, reducing my travel significantly.

Now, I am more intentional and present in my daily tasks. I guide myself through routines, ensuring nothing slips my mind as I visualize checking off each task. My inner dialogue has become supportive rather than critical; I encourage myself with affirmations like, "You can do this. You’ll complete everything you need today."

While consuming the news, I often find myself alternating between disbelief, disgust, and moments of hope and encouragement.

My car has become a sanctuary where I converse with ancestors I feel are watching over me, as well as my own wisdom that sometimes anticipates events before they unfold. Instead of fixating on the uncontrollable, I observe my thoughts like leaves floating down a stream. "There goes my worry. There goes my fear," I remind myself, letting these thoughts drift away instead of frantically trying to tidy my mental landscape.

As I approach the later stages of life, my long bucket list has dwindled, and the urgency to add new items has faded. I still have desires but no pressure to fulfill them immediately. I welcome these aspirations and contemplate how we might enjoy our journey together. With healthy role models among my family and friends, I know that aging can be fulfilling. I savor each day, redirecting negative thoughts about the state of the world into positive actions, using my voice—both spoken and written—to advocate for change.

I ponder where this path may lead me.

Read more from The Good Men Project on Medium:

This article was originally published by The Good Men Project.

Chapter 2: Finding Joy in Solitude

This video, "California Dreamin' on such a Winter's Day," captures the essence of finding peace and joy during winter's chill, reflecting on the warmth of memories and the beauty of nature.

In "California Dreamin' (1965) - THE MAMAS & THE PAPAS - Lyrics," the lyrics express longing and nostalgia, perfectly complementing the themes of introspection and personal growth found in winter's embrace.