More Expression because I can. Whatever comes to mind:

Do you see the photo above my name? That’s me a few months ago, I still look the same and dress the same and have my hair in a pony tail. And I still weigh about the same, 108-110 pounds at 5’5”. I care about looking like that, YOUNG (from a distance.. ha-ha), torn jeans, no make up, like a girl, a girl I didn’t get to be when physically young.

It’s just that I need to look young, to feel young- because I didn’t get to experience those things as a girl, a teenager, a young adult. I was definitely old way before my time.

My life was a life put-on-hold, postponed for a better time, a time that did not come to be.

I was dancing to live music outdoors a few months ago. A girl (preteen) was dancing with me, jumping, so I thought I’d jump with her, and I did, for a long time. It was heavenly. My knees hurt for a few das after, but I did Jump, I did Dance!

The other day, I danced with older people, a woman in her 80s. It was MAGICAL!!!

Well, this is it for now 🕺👯‍♀️🎶🎤💃🏼🔥🕺🏽🌟

Anita

Hi Peter:

I was afraid that the emotionality in my “WOW! I AM OLD!!!” post last night meant I was failing at being still—and at healing, transforming. Looking back, I realize I’d been thinking that stillness meant the absence of feeling—that healing was supposed to resemble the end of a fairytale: no more pain, no more noise, just a peaceful, happily-ever-after kind of hush, soft as a lullaby. ✨🎵💫

And that post of mine (like many others) was not… as soft as a lullaby.

Yet even though I was afraid that I was a burden to you—that my emotions were unwelcome—I wasn’t sorry that I submitted that post, or the others that came before or after it.

Your response today was as perfect as could be: no criticism, no disappointment—quite the opposite. It was gentle, compassionate, respectful, humble.

If only I had someone like you in my young life…!

For a moment, back then, I did. It was an uncle who asked me a question. I don’t remember the question, only that I’d never experienced anyone wanting to know what I thought in such an open, inviting way—not waiting for me to answer “wrong” so they could punish me for it.

I think I was going to answer him in that magical moment, but my mother sat there beside him, looking at me with those dark, threatening eyes and slightly raised corners of her mouth… warning me. So I stayed silent—on the outside.

I never got to thank him for asking me that question.

Fast forward so many, many years—and now, you are like that uncle. And there is no one sitting beside you threatening me.

So many years of suppression, day after day, night after night, decade after decade. I did express myself through poetry as a teenager and in my early twenties… but she read my poems and gave me that disapproving look—with those same slightly raised corners of her mouth.

There was also that art class where I drew hands reaching out from a person’s head (my own), demanding HELP.

And there were bursts of laughter here and there.

But mostly, it was a desperate, depressed, suppressed kind of existence.

So here I EXPRESS—and express and express—and it makes me feel alive. A life worth living.

Thank you so much, Peter. Like I told you before: you’re the bee’s knees—one of a kind, in my humble estimation.

Anita

Latest News: heavy-duty missiles hitting south Israel from Iran, in the last few minutes, sirens everywhere. I can’t go to bed without knowing.. can I?

Four minutes ago, heavy duty sirens in the north, where I rode that bike at 16.

In real-time, what is to happen next?

The next update is 4 minutes ago. Reads like the north (where I am from) was not heavily hit by the latest heavy bombardment from Iran. The Negev (south) was hit, and so did Tel-Aviv. (9:30 pm).

Five minutes later, a hospital in the south, Soroka in Bear-Sheva, was heavily bombarded. More bombardments a minute ago, Iranian Rage. Unexpected since they have been slowing down.

Almost 10 pm, not quite dark, but how can I go to bed, not knowing what’s next.

Two minutes ago- it’s serious. (Was hoping for better).

.. A relief: citizens in Israel told at this time, 10 minutes ago, Thurs morning there, that they can get out of the safe-spaces.

So, I can go to bed now, can I?

My Life Story: Destruction at any time, when I was 5, 15, 25.. 45, 55.. and still.. destruction, end-of-the-world at any time.

Oh.. I didn’t notice- it’s completely dark outside, at five minutes before 10 pm… Wonderful!

The hospital in the south, Soroka, hit directly by Iran a short while ago, was extensively hit, 1 minute ago.

Completely dark outside at 10:10 pm. And I didn’t even notice. Lovely!

Still completely dark, and I didn’t even notice how EVERYTHING outside got dark. No thing of light to negotiate. it’s all dark, undeniably dark for the night, a relief.

Except that 3 minutes ago there are report of injuries and possible deaths in Israel.

If it was up to me, I would FIGHT against all that’s evil. I would protect the innocent, help the ones who need help.

I’ll do anything, everything!

Anita

I am watching a 1977 YouTube video. I was 16 years old back then. All I remember from that year was that one afternoon of riding a bicycle, the highlight of that year.

Before that bike ride, I walked everywhere. That bike ride was revolutionary… 48 years ago (is my math correct?)

I remember me, 16 years old. I remember being young, physically (so much I don’t remember).

Back to that 1977 YouTube video- the people in it, I remember them, now all dead. The audio sounds so outdated. They talk in that strange obsolete way of speaking. Did I talk that way too, back then?

I remember that day on the bike, riding around the whole of that small town where I almost-lived, not quite. I remember imagining riding even farther, beyond. Adventure!

Forty-eight years later (I double checked the numbers), here I am. Skin has changed, lost its youth. Shape has changed (no more curvy, lol). Hair has whitened. Arm skin so thin, so wrinkly thin.

WOW! I AM OLD!!!

NO-

Yes, I am OLD.

No.

Don’t resist it. Rest in it.

Rest in old age?

Yes.

LOL, joking with myself, humoring myself.

No really, you are old!

NO!!!!

Yes.. you are old!

But I don’t want to be old!

Rest in it. Don’t resist. Contemplate it, Contain it..

NOOOOO!!!

Anita

Dear Peter:

Thank you so much for your response.

You didn’t stand outside my experience, trying to fix it or name it. You stepped into it with me—with your hands open, your metaphors ready, and your breath beside my silence. Your words didn’t feel like advice; they felt like companionship.

Reading what you wrote stirred something in me. I realized: this is how I’ve often responded to others in these forums—standing just outside their pain, shining light into it, offering ideas, guidance, even hope—but too often from the outside. Trying to fix. Trying to label. A bit arrogant, isn’t it?

What people need most isn’t advice, but presence—true, steady, sincere presence.

When you wrote about darkness not as the absence of light but as its beginning… and about stillness being the breath before the song—that landed. It helped me see more clearly that the quiet emptiness I’ve felt isn’t something to fear. Maybe something lives in it. Maybe something is waiting.

You didn’t try to cheer me up. You joined me. And that’s rare. And beautiful. And I’m grateful.

If there’s more you feel moved to share—your thoughts, your ache, your stillness—I’d receive it with care. I sense there’s still more conversation waiting between the lines.

Warmly, Anita