I think age is indeed a state of mind. I, for example, am a 25 year old trapped in the body of a 51 year old. My dress of choice is jeans and sweatshirt. I like to sit on the floor. I like to try different make-up styles. I like to drive fast. I like to dance. I like rock concerts. I collect music. I read blogs.
The problem is not with my 25 year old mind; it's with my 51 year old body. I'm having to buy bigger jeans, and it takes longer for me to get up off the floor. Make-up doesn't do much for hiding the wrinkles or age spots. I can still dance, but not with abandon; I get tired and have to sit out a few. I'd probably stand on my chair at a rock concert, but only if my husband were there to hold on to me. This vessel of my soul is losing its elasticity and endurance.
Now all these perky, Barbie-bodies tell me to exercise. "It will make you feel great!" they say. So I joined a gym, paid my money, and nothing happened. (bah-dah-bump) Okay, yes, I even went a few times, and I hated it. I don't care what anyone says; exercise does NOT make me feel better, and I'm NOT losing weight. I may keep going, but I don't have to like it.
But I digress.
It's not that I mind getting old. In fact, I like being in my 50s. It gives me an excuse for just about everything: losing things, forgetting things, changing my mind, repeating myself, etc. Once one is half a century old, I feel one has earned the right to do pretty much whatever one wants to do: be it wearing out-of-style clothes, making dorky remarks, eating dessert first, telling other people what to do, or generally behaving in ways that are considered "not normal." (Who really decides what's normal anyway? I'd like to meet this omnipotent Dictator of Norms. Why didn't I get to vote on the criteria for normalcy?) No matter now. I'm over 50, and I no longer have to abide by "normal" requirements.
I spent many years doing the right things. I RSVP'd and wrote thank-you notes. I ate with my left hand in my lap, and I didn't talk with my mouth full. I didn't ask people how old they were, and I (mostly) obeyed the speed limit. I endeavored to keep conversations away from myself and more about the other person. I wore tasteful jewelry and appropriate shoes. I tucked in the corners of the bedsheets using hospital corners. I never let the cat jump on the table (in front of company). Not that I won't continue to do these things (or at least some of them). Now, however, I do them because I CHOOSE to do them, not because I'll become a pariah if I don't do them.
If the vessel of my soul is growing more sluggish, the container of my thoughts is just revving into high gear. I have all the experience and wisdom of half a century on which to build what I'm learning for the years to come. And don't we learn a lot in 50 years? Furthermore what we neglected to learn when we were too invincible to pay attention, we now review and retain because we find it interesting! This is why grandparents are so insightful; they learned much from years of experiences and mistakes, and they have the luxury of following the pace of the child and not having to keep up with "all the right things to do." (Plus they can return the grandchild to the parents and still get a good night's sleep!)
My dad is 81 years old. It is likely that he has prostate cancer. He is not interested in finding out if he does actually have it, nor is he interested in treating it. He has told me more than once, that he is "ready to go to heaven." It isn't because he's depressed or feeling woeful; he's telling me the truth. His body is wearing out; his spirit is ready for the next journey - whenever it begins. He'd prefer to take the easiest route home. I respect that. I will very likely feel the same way when I'm 81.
I am having a wonderful life. I will try not to waste a single minute of what's left of it. I will not worry about things I cannot control. I will not concern myself with petty things or petty people. I will love my family and my friends as well as strangers I may meet. I will learn as much as I can about as many things as I can. I will notice small things and consider all things. I'm half a century old; I've earned the right to do this.
I don't fear aging. I don't fear death. It is the only guarantee we have when we take our first breath. I intend on living life to its fullest until my journey here comes to a close. I find that my younger friends don't like thinking about these things, but one day they will understand. I remember wondering why our parents read the obituaries every day. Now I know why. But it's okay. I want mine to say: "She had a great time! Said she'll save you a seat on the back row next to the potted palm tree."
My friend, Susan, sent me this:
Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming, "WOO HOO, what a ride!"
Ain't it the truth?!!
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