Equating the physical body with "I," the body that is destined to grow old, wither, and die, always leads to suffering. To refrain from identifying with the body doesn't mean that you no longer care for it. If it is strong, beautiful, or vigorous, you can appreciate those attributes—while they last. You can also improve the body's condition through nutrition and exercise. If you don't equate the body with who you are, when beauty fades, vigor diminishes, or the body becomes incapacitated, this will not affect your sense of worth or identity in any way. In fact, as the body begins to weaken, the light of consciousness can shine more easily.
- from Oneness with All Life by Eckhart Tolle

My little light seems to be shining more, so I guess it's pretty obvious I'm getting weaker. But I'm gonna try putting on the lotion anyway...I mean, what the hell. I might as well be kind to "it" even if "it" isn't "me". (Confused yet??? Me, too.)

January seems to be the time when something in me wakes up again and I realize how out of touch with myself I've allowed myself to become as I've tended to all the holiday hoopla of the previous month.

I was thinking about this as I got ready this morning, chiding myself for not taking the time - mere moments - to put lotion on my parched arms and legs..."out of touch"...literally. Something in me just didn't want to be bothered and there I was: putting myself at the bottom of my to-do list. If I was even on it at all...

Could the simple act of putting lotion on be transformative?

I'll let you know. It's more of an experiment than a New Year's resolution, but for the next 30 days I will see if I can get back "in touch" with myself by putting lotion on.

Tiny steps.

I have a new friend who is 94. She'll turn 95 in early January.

She's a remarkable person, but recently lost her independence and it's really hard for her. As she said to me, "One minute I had my apartment and my car and the next minute I'm here..."

Driving home after our visit I was grateful for the periods in my life when I was infirmed and had to rely on others for help and accept their good will with grace. And I'm grateful for the times I've been able to take care of others when they were in need.

We need to know how to give help and how to accept it. We need to know how to be independent and how to accept that we can no longer be on our own. We need to figure out how to mourn the loss and move on.

The seasons change. So must we.