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Sunday, September 25, 2016

Moon's Offers

Over and over through time's long flight,

the moon offers possibilities.

Full moon, a chance to let go of

what needs to be discarded:

old ways, held grudges,

rigidity that no longer serves.

Give these to the full moon to disperse harmlessly,

away from you.


New moon?

New beginnings:

a way of living,

a change of view,

another opportunity

to embrace loving rather than tolerating.


Two times a month the moon offers these options:

Let go.


Each requires reflection.

What shall I release?

What shall I take on?

There will be times when we accuse the Moon

of duplicity.

She offered something that didn't come to pass.

But if we are honest

we know that it has nothing to do with her.

We must embrace wholeheartedly

Our choice to let go,

Our choice to take on.



Copyright © 2016 Ann Tudor

Sunday, September 18, 2016


I have taken lately to hyphenating the word en-joy.

Bring joy to.

I find it compels me to action

and, if I keep it in my mind,

I can actually make it happen:

I can fill a moment with joy

simply by remembering it.

That moment, at least.

This is an on-going project.

but here I am remembering

to en-joy this bit of writing.

My spirit lifts.

I think I even smile.


Copyright © 2016 Ann Tudor

Sunday, September 11, 2016

Brain Issues

One day I completely misread the label on one of my freezer containers, imagining that the words "Carrot Soup" actually said "Lorna's Goat" (and don't ask about why I had Lorna's Goat in the freezer).


What lessons did I learn from this misreading? Well, to put on my glasses before I read a label. To engage the brain as I read the label. And so forth.


Where is this leading? Is this normal aging behaviour, or does it signal some major deterioration? And the obvious next question: how do you know when it's time to call a halt?  How do you decide that the slope is downhill all the way, and you'd like to get off the slide before you hit bottom? Whom does one consult about this?


I do want to point out the constant worry about losing one's ability to think and remember. Even those who are ten years younger than I are frantically observing the workings of their minds and leaping to the most dire conclusions on the flimsiest of evidence. I hope that's what I'm doing as well. Still: how can I misread "carrot soup" as "Lorna's goat"?


I am stubbornly refusing to go more deeply into the issue of what to do with the deteriorating brain. See me smile. See me enjoying my life. Don't see the inner workings of the brain—or the fear engendered by those workings.



Copyright © 2016 Ann Tudor