I look in the mirror every morning. I think most everyone does, but in the past, it was the typical vanity thing and I was making sure I was presentable to the world.
Now, I'm finding I'm examining the ravages of time; the numerous lines in my face; the crows feet around my eyes; the sagging skin that's appearing on my neck and the lack of clarity in my aging eyes. I'm seeing more of my grandparents and it's a little frightening, although not for the reason of vanity.
For those that haven't experienced aging, it's a lesson in ingenuity and acceptance. What was physically well within tolerances, is now turned into strenuous efforts that lead to exhaustion. The tough labor tasks mean days of recovery, which include exhaustion and pain. Eventually these are beyond abilities and are delegated or placed on the back burner for future finances.
Aging means the errors of youth return as the realities of fate. Injuries ache on cold winter days. Poor health choices lead to major medical experiences that can bankrupt or lead to early death. Meanwhile, the efforts of daily existence continue; even if sacrifices of things once relished are required. It's a choice, I guess. Live longer, or die younger. On some days, the choices seem apparent. On others, the view of world through bifocals is distorted and unreal.
I don't know why I chose today to elaborate on this topic. Maybe the obvious change of seasons has made me realize that my life has reached late summer. The long lazy days of youth are gone and the changing colors of the foliage only forecasts the eventual empty branches that may last another season.
I've spent a lot of time with my mother for the last few years. She had some medical problems, which removed a lot of her mobility, besides her short term memory. It's an up and down thing, with the downs becoming more prevalent. Her passing is inevitable, which is something that I too will face in an amount of time that will probably be substantially less than the time I've been alive. It brings sobering thoughts, which I felt compelled to record.
"Her passing is inevitable".
ReplyDeleteMine too.
In the meantime "Just for Men", on the beard and 'stache.
Yesterday my husband pulled out the picture my brother had given him of me when he was trying to fix us up over twenty years ago. The picture had been taken a couple years before that which would have put me in my late 20's. it wasn't pleasant looking at it and not being able to even recognize myself.
ReplyDeleteFor me, the passage of time is a release, a blessing. Every day removes from me - infinitesimally - the burden of beauty, the expectations of others, the need to "do great things." Instead, I find that I am more and more comfortable with what I have done, who I've become and where I am. Youth seemed spent in a dizzying swirl of desire and need and imagery of what was elusively possible, yet always on the horizon. Now I am content with the world as it is. No longer am I determined to remake it in my image. I choose now to become wiser, not smarter or more clever; to be observant rather than observed.
ReplyDeleteIn my younger years, I had all the answers to aging. I knew it wouldn't happen to ME because I exercised and kept my body flexible with yoga. I'd like to kick that "me" in the teeth. But at least I'm not wearing false ones yet. But everything else is going the way it goes for everyone.
ReplyDelete