The Joy of Forgetting

There is a delightful woman who lives in one of the nursing homes I play for once a month. Last night when I arrived with my guitar in hand, she came over and gave me a hug. "Are you going to be making music tonight?" and I told her I'd be playing instrumental guitar upstairs to help the people relax. She wanted to come up and  listen. Then I asked her if she lived upstairs or down and with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes, she replied,  "Oh, I don't live here, I just spend a lot of time here."   I remember now we've had this conversation before and that time I believed her.  I've since come to see that she does in fact live there.  I see though the advantage of her perception of being a frequent visitor.  She always seems happy and each day is new.

She came up to listen to my guitar music for awhile but quickly grew restless and went back downstairs. When I  finished my "sundowning serenade" on my way out, I saw her again. "Oh how nice to see you! are you going to be making music tonight?"   I realized she didn't remember any of our previous conversations.

Some people I see who forget things become agitated and afraid. For her, she seems blissfully unaware. In a way, I think it is a gift to have this outlook because from her perspective, she is always in the present moment. The past is gone, the future not yet here.  Many people spend a lot of time and money in yoga & mediation classes to experience more fully the present moment. It's true that she does so because of aging and illness but if she is happy--that's all that matters, don't you think so?

The above picture is from Gordon House decorations for Easter. Pretty, huh?