November 7, 2025

Tonight I am thinking about acceptance of changes that age brings.  I can't quite remember what year it was, I think about 1989 or so.  The Greenwich Philharmonic had just played a concert at Alice Tully Hall with Mom as principal flutist.  She was 70 years old, in my mind still capable of climbing Mt. Everest if she decided to, and still as beautiful as she ever was.

I was sitting in her living room when she got home from the concert and promptly declared that was the end of her high stake concert playing and that she was going to retire from the orchestra, give in her notice that this would be her last season.  I was shocked.  I could not imagine such a thing, of course she would die being the first flutist for Greenwich, what was she talking about. That was her identity, what marked her as so special and unique.  She was beautiful, could play as well as she ever could, and in mind had the energy.  But I was not in her body, and I did not know the truth, yet.

A little over 2 years ago, as I tripped into my own 70s, I woke up one morning after having produced and hosted a program at LAVA and realized, I did not have it anymore.  I wasn't sure what "it" was except I knew it was about my nervous system, it was about resiliency, and it was no longer what it used to be.  The amount of anxiety and stress that I underwent producing the project was no longer doable. I just wanted to cry, what would I be if I couldn't facilitate learning events, anylonger.   I needed to really change how I did things so that I didn't need to stop, nor would I hurt myself doing what I loved.

I understood what my mother was talking about that night after she had driven home 2 hours after a concert that marked a very important milestone for her.  She had done it.  And she wouldn't do it again.  What's important is she didn't stop playing in public for another 15 years or so.  I watched her play with her 90 year old friend, flute and piano duets in 2002, she was 83.  She practiced every day, but she also accepted that her age had changed her resilience and she had less power and she needed to moderate how much she did or it wasn't fun any longer. She played until she was diagnosed with a Parkinson's like disease just before 90.

This morning I had a great conversation with my friend, Kevin, who just underwent a heart procedure.  He was feeling good, but he had also realized in his few days of being low key that his work life added a huge amount of stress and anxiety into his life that he couldn't really participate in any longer.

I think we need to write something about this phenomena.  We also talked about growing up with our fight or flight buttons on a lot, and how difficult it is to learn to turn them off when  one doesn't need them any longer .

Learning to calm our nervous systems down several notches is the key to continuing this life that we love so much.   Let it be said, I have no intention to leave this plain, soon, but I do need to respect my cans and can nots.  I plan to spend more time in calm environments and if I could just get at the bottom of my leg pain, I will spend more time in the natural world with a camera, and maybe a paint brush.