It was recently brought to my attention that I would soon be turning 56 years old. Time marches on dear children and it does none of us any good. I’m fairly certain this birthday won’t bring the shit storm of emotion that turning 50 did, but please do me a favor and don’t mention 60.
I am firmly convinced that mentally, who we are when we are approximately 24-27 years old are who we are for the rest of our lives. When I mention this to people my age or more they tend to agree so I think I am on to something. Your body changes and deteriorates, but that core “you” is eternally youthful. That’s my rationalization for not feeling as old as I am.
Scratch that. I FEEL my age. Maybe even older. I feel the aches and pains. I feel the searching my brain for words sometimes. I feel the “what was I saying?” or “why did I come in here?” moments. But in my mind I’m not old. Sure I have matured and that maturity breeds wisdom and to some extent contentment so please do not confuse being youthful with being childish. I speak of youthful in the sense that I am not ready to call it a day. To quote the brilliant Barry Humphries as Dame Edna, “I still have all my drives and juices possums.”
My tastes have certainly changed. Also, things that were very important to me at one time now mean pretty much nothing. A real biggie for me is my embarrassment quotient has really fallen to an all-time low. File that under learning not to care what other people think of you. I think that’s where the wisdom part comes in and it is a real blessing. When you are clumsy or not particularly graceful you find yourself being embarrassed or in embarrassing situations almost on a daily basis and in 56 years you learn to deal. That is not to say I welcome embarrassment, far from it. I’m still human after all. But there is an ease that comes with age that is worth its weight in gold.
Last night I had a short dream right before the alarm was set to go off. It took place in some alternate universe where I lived in one room with quite a few people, all dream strangers. The dream had me slowly waking to see people lying around me. Some were awake and grumbling. My late great Bichon Frise was making an appearance as a puppy and he wanted to play, while those around me wanted to sleep. One of my cohabitants opened the door and pushed the dog through it then slammed it shut. I was appalled that no one in this room could appreciate that dog’s simple joy at being alive and wanting to play and I quickly followed him out the door. Next we were walking through the most glorious gardens. I was tossing his toy and he’d run after it and then, true to form, he’d catch a smell that was much more interesting than playing fetch and he’d be off snooting around.
As I walked enjoying the sunshine, I soon became aware that the gardens were overlooked by luxurious apartments with walls of glass to allow the occupants the glorious views. I also became aware that I was easily on view and that I also was without pants. In my haste to leave with the dog I left as I slept. In younger days this would have caused great dream embarrassment. Who hasn’t dreamed of being at school without clothes? But here my only thought was “Oh well. I hope they enjoy the view.” The day, the gardens and the dog were just too wonderful to care who saw my underwear. The dream ended with me walking the paths with my dog and finally picking up a hose and watering a few shrubs. I was happy.
As you can see it made quite an impression. Perhaps getting older really is about getting better?
The Fat of Now 