RE Journal: I turned 70 in February, so I guess I too am really and truly "Old" now. I am comfortable with that, and find it not at all disconcerting. The ailments I have,-MS and degenerative disc ( from an old whiplash injury)--I have had for over 30 years--and though sometimes problematic, generally the three of us have come to terms with one another --no more elephants in my living room!
I have been retired for over 20 years, not by choice, but because MS prevented any long-term commitment to my teaching career,-the remissions/relapses refused to work around the school calendar, so I lived for a long time on a disability pension until I was able to get my "Big Girl pension "( CPP and OAS). The peanuts fed the elephants in the living room) Apparently marriage vows are good only until death--there is no provision for near-death let alone disability.So about the same time I became a single mother of five. I did not find that stress conducive to creative writing at all,--but, I did find comfort, release in journaling, and later those journals, revisited--became a rich source for poetry and prose, and for empathy towards others in similar straits.
I was still busy though, I opened seven restaurants and a lodge over those 3 decades, and ran some for other proprietors as well. The cafe and pub scenarios I witnessed, also yielded some rich experiences for writing, though at the time , poetry was not on my agenda,--just making a living and raising my kids to be decent productive,happy human beings was my focus. And that they are!--my kids have grown into creative , caring adults themselves, and have created ten new beings who are equally talented, loving and resourceful.
Now that my children are on their own, so am I,--and that's about the time I began writing --free from the stress of just survival , free from society's uncompromising scrutiny, free to wear purple clothing and a red hat, smoke the occasional cigarillo, eat ice cream for dinner---ad infinitum . It was the freedom to spend time at my craft, to research , surf the web aimlessly but not fruitlessly, the empty nest became a cozy den wherein I could dream, and take the stuff of dreams, life experiences, and observations and somehow craft the occasional good poem or story from it all.
I still work,--I cook for some lodges, I do housekeeping, general maintenance and cooking, at a nearby camp,--but it's random mostly, I work my own hours and as long as it all get done I get paid. Cooking has always been a passion, and satisfies my creative and artistic needs as well. I day dream a lot while preparing the food, and there is ample time to make notes on ideas that pop up. Likewise, washing floors, vacuuming, making beds, doing laundry, --so called menial work,--affords many hours of mental meandering into more creative thought.
I too have been absent for a few years from this site,--I popped in now and agin, but as the years passed, there were fewer and fewer of the "old gang". I made some real, live Friends locally who write, and for a while was happy with the coffee house scene and published some poetry in some local literary Journals. Then the well dried up--bang--. I find I need to read others work,--the good , the bad, the ugly,--I needed to revisit my old work too, I needed to re-read at least in part some of the books gathering dust on my shelves; I started watching TV, not just documentaries, but mundane game shows that friend is addicted to, crime stories, CSI---and I found some inspiration now and then from these unlikely scources. It's like my eyes watched, but my brain recorded two different aspects of each program, my memory bank deleted the trivial, and sent the more promising material to my heart.
Whoaaa--- Now I don't have time to make my OWN journal entry! Best I go to work now :-)
What's with the journal entry? No need to put the younglings down. If you want to help them and play the wise old man on the hill, be a little nicer about it, would you?
This place was pretty good to you in the past, as I recall. Hanuman was a respected name around these here parts. Don't ruin it. Or I'll have to come back here and kick your ass around the block a few times!
A crinkle crankle wall? Really! That sounds like a wonderful way to use time, actually. Maybe I will start building a miniature one. I watched a short film about a man who started building a wall where the Berlin Wall once was. It was very interesting, open-ended type film. I think he really just needed to build something, but people put their own hopes and fears into his actions.
Anyway, I am glad that you are well in all respects, and if that means no poetry then so be. You still have the birds, and they are a bit of poetry all by themselves.