Old Age
January 20, 2008 – 10:40 amEvery once in a while, one of those forwarded posts have some meaning to me. This one has some value:
The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know 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 sometime 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. s 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 60&70′s, 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).
5 Responses to “Old Age”
Your treatise on your old age sounds a bit maudlin for one so young. However, I did enjoy your refusal to lament what you could not control. That is so original:like not crying over spilt milk!
Your reaction to the young person who asked you about being old was and is predictable.In any case it reminds me of a poem I once read about a veteran of the Cvil War who was shopping at a General Store when he was approached by some children who wanted to know how he came to have a peg leg.He leaned over to them, smiling and asserted:”A bear bit it off!” The children were dazzled with the story while he suffered through his war time experience all over again.
Women have menapause to guide them into their maturity while men have confusion and fantasies mired in testosterone.
One ought to be mindful of George Bernard Shaw’s saying:”Youth, what a shame it’s wasted on the young.” Of course, he was in his nineties at the time.The irony of all of this is that if we had any part of our lives to do over we would do exactly what we did the first time.
The answer to the question doesn’t quite have the sound of truth to it. What on earth does it mean to “like being old?” You sound like you put on your dancing shoes to celebrate your lost youth. And you sound like Martin Luther King:”The truth will set you free!” Older age hasn’t set you or anyone else free. What has taken place apparently is what used to happen in the old classical Japanese experience. You’ve reached an age whereby you want to don a red kimona. The red kimona in Japanese culture signifies that the wearer will no longer be sensitive to the sensibilities of others, but will rather speak his mind in an unfiltered fashion.
Thornton Wilder said that each birth is nature’s attempt at perfection. A sentiment which I have found comforting when thought of in conjunction with Charlie Darwin’s survival of the fittest. Actually Charlie said that not only the fittest survive, but the most beautiful.
Given all the circumstances surrounding your birth, you were the best and the most beautiful you could be. That ought to be enough comfort for one even in his seniority.
So as I lift my Martini to celebrate your munching your cookie, I realize that though the causes are different the result is the same.
Here’s to you, old friend!
Paul
By Paul on Feb 10, 2008
I probably wasn’t clear in the fact that I didn’t write the bit about old age, it was forwarded to me. I usually hate forwarded things, but this one seemed to have some good and positive thoughts. I guess I need to put quotes around it to make it stand out as from someone else.
Good comments, however. I find myself at 60 easing into the start of the second half ;>) if my father’s longevity – will be 92 this year – is any indication of my genetic makeup. Introspection – a process that has exponentially increased within me the last 5 or so year. My reactions to my introspection have been calm; I find myself accepting more and understanding how so many slender threads (Robert Johnson – “Balancing Heaven and Earth”) have brought me to the place(s) I am. This is especially true with my kids, and now with 2 grandsons
http://www.turbatrio.blogspot.com/
- the time to take my place on the Great Mandela has arrived. I really like the fact that the puzzle pieces are finding their places on the board, gently sliding into place. Tears come very easily now at the thought of the grandness, the beauty, and the meaning of it all.
By bob on Feb 11, 2008
Your progeny and theirs prove Charlie Darwin”s theory about not only the fittest, but the most BEAUTIFUL survive!
Each birth is truly nature’s attempt at perfection!
Paul
By Paul on Feb 11, 2008
I envy you your peace with aging – whether you wrote it or not.
For me it’s almost the opposite. It’s the struggle that keeps me going.
What can I achieve that I haven’t yet achieved?
What can I write, sing, play that I haven’t yet sung, played or written?
And somehow time backs me up on this: after years of playing guitar I play better now than ever before. I took 3 years of classical voice lessons when I was in my 50′s. Now I can sing. After years of trying to write songs like Bob Dylan or John Lennon I’ve finally found my own voice and people say, ‘Yeah, that sounds like you.’ What a gift, what an absolute treasure that is.
I guess it’s my way of living Dylan Thomas’ poem:
Do not go gentle into that good night
Old age should burn and rave at the end of day
Rage, rage against the dying of the light
I came here in search of your address. I found this very though provoking blog.
Funny the things we stumble onto – in our old age.
By The Nighthawk on Feb 16, 2008
Bob, I missed hearing from you, even if it is just a card. I do think of you.
Paul
By Paul on Dec 28, 2010