Life is not one life; I am learning, but many lives. I’m about to set out on another one.

A couple of weeks ago, I heard a singer, songwriter, rapper, and producer named Shaboozey, and I got hooked. (He was on SNL a week ago. Beyonce sang on his new album.) I’ve listened to him at least once or twice a day before I sleep and sometimes before I meditate.

I was especially drawn to an album Shaboozey sings called “Where I’ve Been Isn’t Where I’m Going,” I thought how true that is of me.

After the election, I was shocked. The people spoke loudly and clearly. I wanted to understand what had happened, but that would take a while. I’m still not there. The establishment’s corporate and political opposition is collapsing.

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing and don’t intend to say more.

I just decided to keep the blog the safe place it has become. My writing and photos are doing people a lot of good—traffic has shot up, and so have thoughtful comments. The trolls have melted away.

I found a new role for my work, and it is the right one.

I feel good about it—at age 77, I will focus my energy and work on making the blog a safe and hopefully beautiful place. I have also found the joy and meaning of working with the Cambridge Food Pantry, another way to keep meaning and goodness in my life, not argument and fear.

I will work to continue supplying the pantry with the food it needs to feed people who need it. I’m good at this.

I do not hide behind my age as a reason for being idle and irrelevant. I am as old as I see myself and wish to be. For me, getting older is a beginning, not an end. I am just getting started in the next chapter of my life.

I love my farm, my life, my wife, my cat, my dogs and donkeys, my pictures, and my thoughts.  I’ll leave the pundits to slug it out; I’ll do my work and good deeds. I am a member of no party, a slave to no dogma or labels.

The next President has some ideas I like more than I expected and many that I hate; most of all, he and his well-funded movement plan to punish political opponents and journalists who criticize them.

As the child of refugees who fled Russia and Germany, that was and is frightening to me. It breaks my heart.

But I needed to find a good place to be amid all this change, uncertainty, and fear. The next President and I are about the same age—he’s a little older—and we are both likely to depart the world around the same time; I will not be at the center of any significant political struggle.

The people will get what they want; it’s rightfully not mine to judge. To be valid, I need to change, and I am changing.

I doubt I will be around when everything is sorted out, but I can do much good in the meantime and will focus on that.

An odd thing has happened, as unexpected as the election itself – I find that one of the things I am good at, one of the things I contribute is the unexpected ability to offer calm and peace to people through my writings, photographs, focus on being a safe place, and most surprising of all, my flower photographs which make other people, as well as me, feel lots of emotions, most good.

“The real truth, I have come to think, is that there is no such thing as only having one life to live,” writes theologian Joan Chittister. The fact is that every life is simply a series of lives, each one of them with its task, its flavor, its brand of errors, its type of sins, its glories, its kind of deep, dank despair, its plethora of possibilities, all designed to lead us to the same end – happiness and a sense of fulfillment.”

I am shaping the last chapters of my life and found my place. I am deeply in and want nothing that I don’t have.  I have finally discovered the power of meaning and compassion. My vision is for a safe place for people to visit, with no anger, cruelty, hostility,  or judgment.

I accept my place in this universe with joy and eagerness. Like Shaboozey, I accept that where I’ve been isn’t where I’m going. And where I am going is a good place, the place I want to be. I hope to be helpful where I am, not where I was.

This morning, I got up, followed the sun with my camera, sat with the animals, took some pictures, and went to the Farmer’s Market with my wife.

We are so good together that it sometimes hurts.

I appreciate my loyal readers, who are so supportive. You are welcome here to see the place where I’m going—it’s right here. The photos, words, and flowers will keep coming as long as you want to see them.