I can hear the followers of Camp Liza canceling their subscriptions as I write. Because who wants to read about death? The fact is, if you think about death, like the Buddhists do, you will live ever so much a more beautiful, rich life. And we all want that.
So today, let’s think about death.
This post is inspired by the accidental death of a friend last week. It was a day like any other. An artist, he went to work. A big machine fell on him. Yup.
One day last week I cried so much I had to drink tall glasses of water for the rest of the day to rehydrate myself. I cried for different things that both were and weren’t happening to me. I won’t bore you with my “stuff.” I’m sure you have your own.
I invoked Tony Robbins’ “90 second rule” — but I turned it into a four hour rule, because 90 seconds seemed a little too short for me (haha). The 90 second rule is to let yourself feel your pain, sorrow, suffering for 90 seconds.
On Tuesday it will be three weeks since I had my hip replacement surgery. How to give you an update without sounding all boring about medical blah blah, when there is so much more in life to think about.
And that’s the point. Get on with the health and recovery but put your attention on the delicious stuff of life that awaits.
Why do we love hospital shows so much when the reality is so not nice? That’s putting it mildly! For as long as I can remember there’s always been a medical show on the air — because doctors and hospitals bring on the drama. Unwanted drama.
I won’t dwell on boring medical blah blah, but here’s what’s happening. After five years of pain that I ignored because, who wants to pay attention to pain…I’ll be having a hip replacement this week. Not how I planned to spend the Easter hols.
You all know that I love to cook and bake. I read food blogs and websites. Cookbooks as bedside reading are a given. Cooking is not only how I nurture and delight my family and friends, it’s how I explore, travel and taste the world right in my own home.
Lately, people have been after me to compile a book of the recipes I’ve cooked over the years that have become family favorites. Now I’m not a recipe writer. Whilst some of my recipes have come from my mother and grandmother…other family favorites have come from famous chefs, cookbooks and websites.
Nothing like ashes to remind me to live harder, better, more lovingly, more joyfully.
Yesterday we planted a Ceiba tree with the ashes of a lifelong friend of mine who lived ill for such a long time it was just a part of him, and then died suddenly before anyone had time to say goodbye.
In Tropica it’s always guest season. Living in a vacation destination means a lot of houseguests. I enjoy picking people up at the airport and having the stimulation and fun of visitors.
Being a good houseguest is an art, but it can also be a learned skill. If you have friends living in interesting places, and you are lucky enough to be invited to stay, it means you can travel all the more. So it behooves you to treat your hostess like the treasure she is.
Jealousy sounds so much nicer in French, doesn’t it? Romantic. Poetic.
In another twist, jalousie in English refers to a “blind or shutter made of angled slats.” Go figure.
As a femme d’un certain age, I’m mortified to admit that I’m prone to occasional whiffs of jealousy envy. How embarrassing is that? It’s true that life is always like high school over and over again — same cliques, same emotions.
I’m adding three new things to my life this year, to explore and develop, and if things go well, adopt as official passions. I made this decision because I find being a beginner so invigorating! Since no bridge player will teach me bridge (Don’t get me started. Bridge players hate to teach beginners and don’t want to play with them.) and golf will never be a thing for me, I landed on my new learning challenges quite naturally.