It was 1988 and the category was Documentary Short. My film, made with Megan Williams, was called “Language Says It All”. It was about deaf children and how being deaf was really more about access to language than it was about not being able to hear. The film is on YouTube and here is the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c3-3oZ_CHf4 Out of the five nominated films, it was the second best IMHO. The winner was about the filmmaker’s dad falling in love again at 88 years of age and was a charmer. It deserved to win. It was fun going to the Oscars back then. I remember seats next to Little Richard and the fun of finding that white leather dress and black leather jacket. I remember my first and only pair of high heels cutting into my feet. I remember my friend treating me to a hair and makeup session the day of and being so nervous I could not eat. I remember lots of bad gowns on inebriated celebrities. I remember wishing snacks were as plentiful as alcohol. Documentaries were still considered fringe back then. The Best Documentary categories were considered a joke and inferior to Best Live Short. But we- documentary filmmakers- persevered. We were passionate and dedicated to our craft and our belief in the power of the non-fiction form to create social change. We kept going despite financial problems and career setbacks. Documentaries have reached a tipping point. I was so proud today to listen to a show on NPR devoted to what the hosts considered the strongest category in this year’s Oscar nominations. Yep, you guessed it, documentaries! And the one favored to win, ‘Flee’, is nominated in 3 categories! When I was coming up as an idealist filmmaker, most documentaries barely got seen beyond the Film Festival circuit. They were considered labors of love; impossible to make a living by; screened on PBS at 130 am; doomed to obscurity. I remember the heartache of years of excellent work by my peers, barely recognized. But now they are beloved. People even describe themselves on dating sites as ‘lovers of documentaries’. People rely on them as a source for learning; books adapted to moving images. Documentaries reflect and advance our discourse on issues of the day. I remember when Hoop Dreams broke out. I remember when Ken Burns wasn’t yet a household name. I remember when the Aids Quilt doc received a lot of attention. “My Octopus Teacher” would have been buried 20 years ago. Now it is celebrated, discussed widely and applauded. So now, I am kvelling, happy to see the evolution of the field as well as the audience. I think David Byrne got the Oscar that year for Best Song. He said something like its nice to get the recognition but the real joy is in making the work. Onward!

I stopped talking about my unhappiness in the relationship with most of my friends after about a dozen years. They were sick of hearing me kvetch. Heck, I was sick of hearing me kvetch. I had decided to stay until my kids were launched. Goshdarnit, I needed to buck up! So 18 months ago, I finally cut the ties, kicked him out, and began to build a new life for myself. It's been mostly absolutely marvelous. The words release and relief come to mind. More joy. I have been surprised and pleased by the attention I have received in the online dating world (you can read about that here). A few of my friends have literally jumped up and down with glee or let out a huge sigh of “Finally!”. But that does not mean it is easy to break up a couple whose lives are intertwined and a family unit that is used to being together, even with the fighting and tension that sometimes accompanied us. It isn’t easy to see your former partner with someone new and to know your now young adult children are developing new relationships with that new person and their kids. It isn’t easy to not see my step-grandkids every month. It isn’t easy to not be able to talk with my X about things like making travel plans, or Trump’s sinister plans, or whether its a good time to sell my house, the house that was the family home. Everyday when I write my gratitudes, I almost always am grateful that I am no longer in that relationship. I am also grateful, despite the impossible, awful, terrible and unacceptable relationship we had, for the good stuff we shared for all those years. So, if you have a friend who is happily single after a long relationship, know that we still are going through the loss. Know that our cells in our being are still adjusting to being without our long term partner. Know that it takes time, just like any ending, to heal and find our way as a single person in the world. Know that in the joy and release, lies pain and sadness. The heart is fragile and strong.

As per ScienceFocus.com: “In any human body there are around 30 trillion human cells, but our microbiome is an estimated 39 trillion microbial cells including bacteria, viruses and fungi that live on and in us. We have around 20–25,000 genes in each of our cells, but the human microbiome potentially holds 500 times more.” Pretty amazing stuff, right? It’s like our body is its own universe, or galaxy. Did you also know that 29% of all the microbes in the body are in the gut and 26% of all the microbes in the body are in the mouth? So the gut and the mouth hold more than half of all the body’s microbes! No wonder we have an epidemic of memory-related diseases! The health of the gut and the mouth directly impact the health of the brain. Often, these microbes are unhappily trying to survive in severely compromised environments, leading to brain fog, dementia, Alzheimer's and more! The World Health Organization states that 55 million people worldwide currently have Alzheimer’s. They project 78 million people will have it worldwide by 2030; and that number will mushroom to 128 million by 2050. But mull over this: The average life expectancy 100 years ago in the U.S. was 41 years. The United Nations estimates that there were about 95,000 centenarians in 1990 and more than 450,000 in 2015! By 2100, there will be 25 million! So living longer explains some of the rate of increase in our global population. The other big reason is nutritional deficiencies. I envision those Alzheimer’s numbers going down, because people will have stopped eating so much sugar and processed foods. Toxins like Round Up and plastic lids on coffee cups and arsenic in beauty care will no longer be used or enter our bodies. We will eat whole foods, mostly plants and healthy proteins. We will have less stress and we will heal from life’s traumas. Our emotional and spiritual health will be strong. Functional Medicine will be the standard of care, so when you go to your doctor, you will be able to get into the root cause of your illness and heal it holistically. We will have reversed the epidemic of thyroid disease, autoimmune diseases, Parkinson’s, ALS and Alzheimer’s disease. We will die from natural causes more often than not because our inflammation levels will be down. What does this mean for our microbes? Our guts, our brains, our mouths will have healthy microbiota. We will have learned how to live healthfully with our human and microbial cells.

I binge watched Netflix’s second season of Love is Blind and had an Aha moment! Newly single after a 23-year relationship, I took to internet dating like a fish to water eighteen months ago. I considered it a sociological experiment. First, I became very selective about which profiles resonated with me, by reading the lines, between the lines, and all around. Then, secondly and assuming mutual interest, I found that if some rapport was developed through talking online via the dating app’s texting system, we would almost always meet in person (or via zoom). The key ingredients were for that initial rapport were good energy, easy connection and common values. That is exactly what happens in the pods on the show ‘Love Is Blind’? The couples, with a wall between them, can only talk. The ones who develop rapport, feel an ease to their connection, find they have a lot in common, level up! In online dating, meeting in person definitely ups the ante. The focus turns towards the rocky terrain of sexual chemistry and personality compatibility. I met quite a few men that I really felt a rapport with initially, but upon meeting in person, that connection was only as friends. (New friends are awesome!) Once the couples on Love is Blind meet in person, they are already on the love train heading towards marriage, which is a bit silly. However, the question of sexual and emotional compatibility looms large, just as it does for us online daters. There is no quick way of knowing. It takes time together. For me, its months and maybe longer. On the show, it’s about a month. Pretty cra cra. But the question is the same: Is there connection deep enough to translate into a long-term, committed, happy, loving relationship? On ‘Love Is Blind’ they call this approach a social experiment. It’s amazing how fast the relationship issues surface to threaten that wonderful original connection. Six couples came from the pods and I am guessing that maybe one will survive. My bet is that with more time to grow together as a couple, the odds would improve for couples who have the connection, the chemistry and the compatibility. They just need time to be on their side. I am five months into my social experiment. I find my feelings slowly and happily growing with my new guy. I relish the time to build something with him. I am hoping we survive.

The Power of the Semicolon to Help You Pause and Connect to Your Tribe ; ; It is no wonder to me why the gorgeous, subtle, sultry image of the semicolon has been tattoed on many people in the last few years. It is the ubiquitous sign of self determination for those who are not only surviving, but thriving, after struggling with depression, deep despair, suicide, and other mental health issues. Used prolifically in literary, poetic, academic and technical writing, the semicolon directs us to ‘take a brief pause’. This dot and hook shaped article of punctuation is an elegant symbol for self love, self affirmation, self commitment to keep on. It makes so much sense to me that people tattoo this elegant and simple form on their fingers, wrists, arms, or behind the ear. Sometimes they pair the semicolon with a heart or a musical note or a butterfly to signify their chosen flavor of self affirmation. And what could be better than a sign you see all day long that reminds you that you are here, alive, and keeping on, amidst the pain, the suffering, the grief, the heartache, the beauty and terror of life? As an end of life doula, I often talk about ‘holding the space’ for the person who is nearing the end of their life, and their loved ones. I seek to make the energy comfortable and sacred and buoyant. The little pause embodies the same: a moment where we direct that sacred, rich fuel inward. The mark connects us to the many, many others with parallel struggles, similar pains, and the same hope that they will find peace, love, joy and freedom in their lives. The tattoo heals us as the connection blossoms quietly and stealthily, without noise or ego. It says, “Pause for a moment. Celebrate us. We are alive. We are making it one day at a time. Join us.” In solidarity, I plan on getting this precious symbol etched into my skin. I too have moved from survivor of pain, suffering, inner turmoil and self hatred, to a place of ease and gratitude.

https://rhyhalpern.medium.com/ten-steps-to-online-dating-when-you-are-old-32ae4cca8719

Please click to go to the post! https://rhyhalpern.medium.com/why-dating-is-a-spiritual-practice-40312e6451d5

And How You Too Can Find the Root Cause of Your Chronic Illness Please click here to read the story: https://rhyhalpern.medium.com/how-a-punch-to-the-face-caused-hashimotos-disease-9fefe37a7c95

Greater Happiness Is Closer Than You Think I found a new groove. I got my groove on. I am in the groove. I am groovin’. But it’s not what you think. Do you remember playing records on a turntable and wanting to hear the next cut on an album, so you carefully lifted up the needle just a teeny tiny bit? Stay with me now… Dark, rancid thoughts about all the crap my X-spouse pulled during the 23 years we were together. There was his sour cheapness and refusal to support the family financially, unless it benefitting him directly. There was the chronic, 24/7 soul-killing lack of help with the kids and the house. He was stoned all day every day. His insatiable need for constant pleasure and gratification could not be met. There were the obsessive porn watching and ultimately the sex-trafficked prostitutes. There was the disengagement and denial whenever I wanted to talk about anything remotely relational. There was his scary screaming which he said was no big deal because he got over it fast, despite the reality that the kids and I did not. There was me carrying the burden for the family alone day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. I became drained, chronically fatigued, overweight and inflamed, meeting his sharp, tight energy with my own unhappy willfulness. I became my worst self. I mirrored his lack of generosity. I was resentful and critical. My closing down to him in the heart and groin. He was an energy vampire and I was in over my head. I wanted to leave but I knew it would be too wounding to my kids. Underneath all the horror stories that made my therapist’s eyes fill with fury, I still cared about him. We still cared for each other. We had two babies. We buried 4 parents. We saw his older kids marry and have babies and we became grandparents. We went through sickness and health, good times and bad. We knew each other’s stories and friends and trials and tribulations. We shared the same bed and home as companions for more than two decades. We kept forgiving and moved on. We were family. Finally, one Covid day, it was over. My kids were in college. The rubberband was stretched too far and I could not spring back. I was free of him and this is what I had wanted for so long, biding my time til my kids were launched. Right? I was free. I was unburdened. I was happy. So why did I miss him? One night, a year ago by now, when the bad stories were far overwhelming the good ones in my mind, I just picked up the needle on the record player of my mind and moved it ever so gently just that tiny amount of space onto the next cut on the album. Just slightly. Just a quick up with the needle and a skosh back down. Just that invisible nanno space. And that’s all it took. The needle came down lightly onto the next groove and my heart filled with forgiveness. It was a tiny shift; it was a profound one. My heart was open. I could see the good in him. In us. In me. Moving that needle in my mind helped me whenever I had the awareness to access it. It could be any stress or tension that I wanted to release. I found a space in close proximity to the noise in my mind where I was fine and at peace. Because that place was so proximal to the rank place, I eliminated the feelings of duality and could hold both without rancor, without aversion. I held them with loving kindness for all the lessons and all the love. Do you want to move the needle of your mind over just a skosh? Do you want to get free of the stuck grooves? Do you want to see how nearby equanimity is?

I have an autoimmune disease, that was finally correctly diagnosed after twenty five years of symptoms. I worked for more than a decade to lower my inflammation levels and now my body is a finely tuned machine. I don’t do red meat, gluten, sugar, and soy, processed foods and I avoid dairy and alcohol. I stay low on carbs and focus on eating lots of healthy proteins and fats. I eat 90% organic and stay away from plastics, pesticides, chemicals and toxins. I know it sounds extreme but that is what it takes for me to feel well. Sugar lights up my brain just like heroin does in an addict. But every once in a while I can enjoy some chocolate (sweetened with stevia or monkfruit) and I have done okay on a shot or two of alcohol, since vodka and gin are very low carb. But wine or those froo froo cocktails I love, not so much. I had such a bad reaction once that I had to do a several week detox. I am stronger now, so hope springs eternal, right? One recent day I had a hankering for red wine to accompany dinner on a night out on the town with a close friend. I enjoyed it wholeheartedly and expected to be okay the next morning. Because of those earlier bad reactions, I was concerned that my body would process the wine as SUGAR! I awoke several times that night feeling that weird feeling in my stomach that signifies to me that my blood sugar is off. When I weighed myself in the morning, my weight was up 5 full pounds!!! I was visibly puffy in my face, hands, feet and gut. I felt sluggish and polluted all day. As a Functional Medicine Health Coach, I had a few moves: I kept drinking water and lemon, then water and electrolytes, as well as herbal tea and bone broth all day to flush that perceived toxin out my system and bring my body back to its normal state. The second day saw a slow movement towards my healthy homeostasis and by the third day my inflammation levels had clearly lowered. I was once again back to five pounds lighter. It is true you can gain 5 lbs overnight when you ingest a foreign substance that your body repels. I won’t be drinking wine again any time soon!

As an End of Life Doula and Hospice Volunteer, I know of so many people who have experienced the loss of a loved one in the most dramatic and despairing of ways, sometimes only barely emerging after years. When I drill down and listen to their stories, I hear that they did not know their loved one’s last wishes and did not have a chance to say goodbye. Without knowing their person’s preferences about dying at home or in the hospital, with or without pain meds and machines, alone or surrounding by their loved ones, they have struggled with regret. Without that sense of completion that comes with sharing their love, acknowledging that death is near and saying goodbye, they feel that they cannot move on from their person’s death and find their way. When my mom died almost five years ago, I found that I experienced grief as profound love for her. I felt close to her, knowing she was ready to die and had not only accepted death’s inevitably, but actively embraced it at the end. I felt she gave me a huge gift by talking openly with me about her wishes and by making sure we had the time to say goodbye and express our love over and over. I even have an iphone video of her singing to me, “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina”! My friend lost her husband a year ago. He had a good, conscious death. She said to me last week that she still cries every day because she misses her beloved. But she said that amazing as it is, she also feels happy. She feels her sense of agency. She is grateful for life. She loves her life. Death is permanent. There are no redo’s. Preparing consciously for the end of our lives frees us and liberates our loved ones, that their period of mourning can be full of light and love. Grief does not have to be another trauma. It can be an honoring of your person and your love. You can miss them dearly and still embrace your life without them fully. Look for my new articles and offerings entitled End of Life Intentions for Dummies, Pragmatists and Seekers for more on conscious dying. Rhyena Halpern Health Coach & End of Life Doula who loves to write on Wellness, Third Act of Life, Death & Dying, Autoimmunity, Trauma, Food & Weight. rhyhalpern@gmail.com

About five years ago, when I was still gainfully employed and in the midst of designing a plan for my retirement, aka my Third Act, I read that people tend to be thrilled in the initial phase of retirement, which lasts about eight months. They feel free and happy, and absolutely love that they no longer are being awakened by the shrillness emanating from their alarm clock, starting their day off wrong. They are dancing on the ceilings because they feel totally free, less stressed, and more joyful. After those eight months of retirement honeymoon, the article went on to say, they then begin to wonder, with sometimes a fair amount of anxiety, about things like their identity and purpose and where this is all heading. My first response was is there something special about the eighth month, when that free-floating, low-level panic emerges? I would have guessed that people start getting a bit nervous after about three months. In fact, I actually started thinking about what I would do in my retirement about three years before I retired, in part to avoid any such confrontation with that dreaded, existential angst. I developed my Third Act plan over the course of 18 months working with a coach while I was still employed, and then had another 18 months to consider that ripening plan before I actually retired. So for me, the segue from working professional to retiree was pretty seamless. Because I had a clear direction, I never felt the loss of meaning. Rather I felt I was reaching for new dreams and goals that completely excited me. As you consider your retirement, do you feel you need a sense of purpose in the Third Act of your one precious life? If you have no idea of what you want your retirement to look like, is it smarter to stay gainfully employed? In the first phase of retirement blush, I too had loved losing the alarm and sleeping a bit longer, loosening up my schedule just a bit and giggling at my tendency to maximize every minute of every hour of every day. I felt a new freedom of indulging in the occasional, lusciously decadent, afternoon spent reading an actual book. The newfound spaciousness in my life was so absolutely joyful to me, as I no longer had to struggle with- on top of a busy day in the office- getting the laundry done, shopping for food and then cooking it, paying bills, or calling the insurance company and a repair company because the garage door crashed down, barely missing slicing my moving car in two that morning. I had the gift of time to take care of daily life without my cortisol levels going bonkers and my shoulders tightening up into my skull. Amazing! My spousal unit and I could go into San Francisco for dinner and a show without advance planning and take a hike in nearby open space almost spontaneously. Delicious! We could go watch the sunset over the Pacific Ocean in Half Moon Bay! We could Bart to Berkeley to see a play without worrying about the next work day. My meditation practice opened up. I had time to invigorate my yoga practice. Brilliant! The gift of time was mine and I savored every minute of it. Before I even retired, I started my weekly volunteer work at a local hospice group and began my eighteen-month program to become a health and wellness coach. Then, after retirement, I completed the program and board exams; joined a book club; methodically went through every room in my house and expunged furniture, tchotckes, clothing and random stuff that is taking up space, thereby lightening the feel of the house. I have a small garden, despite the ravages of the moles and gophers, and fixed up the backyard to make it a sweeter place to hang out. As you think of your retirement, what makes your heart sing? What are you passionate about doing and becoming in your Third Act? Are you itching to come out of the closet with your cherished but tucked away dream art project or fantasy job or ideal start up? If not now, when? Do you want a new mission statement for your Third Act or can you let it evolve organically? As I was approaching nine months in, I too found myself experiencing a dip. I needed to re-ignite my Third Act plan or I could get overwhelmed by inertia and underwhelmed by things that needed my attention but not urgently. I noticed there was a shift from the honeymoon of early retirement into moving into the long-term shift in my life permanently. Now, I am about two and a half years into retirement. Designing my Third Act was an act of love and alignment of the values I held most dear. When people ask me what I do, I may talk about my past work as an arts manager, documentary filmmaker, artist and massage therapist. But I always tell them: I am a certified and Board credentialed Holistic Health Coach, helping 55+ women and men who want to improve their health, design their own Third Act, or create a plan for a dignified and intentional end of life. I tell them I am a hospice volunteer, working with patients as well as facilitating educational programs for the larger community. I am passionate about being an end of life doula, whether than means working with folks to create an end of life plan or being an emotional support person at the end of life. That is what really makes my heart soar and sing the loudest. I also facilitate weekly Death Cafes. I am a volunteer crisis counselor for the Crisis Text Line and I have a daily writing, meditation and yoga practice. I read voraciously and study Mussar, and am known to binge watch Netflix on occasion. What is your vision for the Third Act of your life? Is devoting the first year of your retirement to make a plan a good strategy for you? What values do you cherish and want to align in your Third Act? What makes your heart sing?