Just a Lil Something...

I received this lil treatise today from a discussion group I subscribe to. I thought it was worth passing on.

Old Age, I decided, is a gift.

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometimes despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror (who looks like my mother!), but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend.

I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60s and 70s, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ... I will.

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set.

They, too, will get old …

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day.

(If I feel like it)

While I don’t subscribe to every thought in this missive, most of it is indeed true…especially the part about dessert. Seriously, though, getting old is liberating, if only mentally. I frequently find myself longing for the strength and stamina I had in my youth, and occasionally I think, rather wistfully, why am I so damned deliberative about everything? Where’s that impetuosity I used to be known for? Gone…along with about 15% of my hair. I don’t miss the hair (really), but I DO miss the spontaneity. Being “deliberative” might be what wisdom is all about, but I don’t think so. And finally… when the author says “You care less about what other people think” I think they might really mean you’ve come to realize your ability to influence what other people think is rather limited, and always has been.

At any rate…just a lil something to think about in this youth-oriented culture.

(h/t to Lorelei Siwierka, a member of the Fortuna AFS discussion group)

The illustration is by Thomas Cole. As ever, click for larger.