According to philosophical observation

We’re told by philosophers to “live one day at a time.” To not worry about the future or think about the past. These admonishments ring true, but that’s not how we humans seem to be wired.

I often hear family and friends reminisce: “Remember when we…,” and “I wish we still could…”

 Conversely, I hear, “In a few years, I’m frightened I won’t be able to….” Or “What will happen if…?”

I used to do this useless worrying also, but thanks to meditation and, as Carl Jung would imply, my current stage of life, I find it easier to release the past and the future (of which we have no control anyway) and live one day at a time.

Jung implies that we live in four stages of life, commencing with the sunrise (childhood); then as the sun rises higher, youth; middle life at the highest peak of the sun; and then old age (sunset).

Well, gosh darn it, my sunset is as bright as a red rubber ball, slowly descending into the ocean. Red-yellow and as strong as positive energy.

So, how do I get from this metaphysical meandering to one of the best days of my summer 

My guy and I flew to California during the hot New England July, returning our CA grandson after he visited us for 10 days. He didn’t need our chaperoning, but we appreciated his company and his stack of cookies (for the long flight).

On our first full day of vacation, we listed a dozen things we should do, and instead decided to just “wing it.”

“Winging it” goes along with living one day at a time. My guy and I walked past the old arks, now unique stores; past the S.F. Bay and the Yacht Club; and past the tiny condos that cost millions of dollars. We began the steep climb up the beautiful island of Belvedere where the rich live, their 3-level tiered homes viewing the city, the Bay, and the boats scattered on the sparkling water.

We ignored their gated front doors. Instead, we focused on the hike, the small winding streets surrounded by eucalyptus trees rooted in the slanted dirt and bright bougainvillea climbing over old rock walls.

We listened to the sparrows’ cheeps and the hummingbirds’ whispery buzz. When we neared the height of the island, the view opened to the Pacific Ocean and the Golden Gate Bridge.

We gasped at the dozens of pelicans soaring over the Bay and at times, over us. They tilted their wings in recognition of fellow souls who were “winging it.”

We were winded as we winged it, our leg muscles tight from the exertion, our lungs expanded, and our joy widened to fill the sea and the sky.

Despite doing nothing “special,” this was the best day of our summer.

I agree with Swedish gerontologist Lars Tornstam’s assessment of this time of life: “There is . . . a feeling of cosmic communion with the spirit of the universe and a redefinition of time, space, life, and death.”

Or, in other words, winging it with grace and gratitude.

One day at a time.