I’ve always said by the time we leave this earth, each of us will be a genius.
I’m seeing it already. It’s taken me a long time to learn some really important things, but I finally have. For instance:
How to lubricate the garage door (and how often).
How to replace a door knob.
How to coax a dog into eating her dinner or taking a pain pill (much deception is involved).
How to remove leaves from a gutter using a very tall, very creaky ladder. Without falling.
How to unload nine 40-lb bags of mulch from the back of an SUV without requiring back surgery later (key words: two-wheeler).
That some people, for whatever reason, are going to be crabby all the time.
How good it feels to give away what you no longer use, wear, look at, read, cook with, sit on, or even think about.
That nothing will ever replace that wonderful crackly sound when you drop the stylus on an LP.
That not only is it okay to not reopen a door closed long ago after a bad ending of a relationship (romantic or friend), it’s wise.
How to change the batteries in anything. At midnight, in the dark. Without your glasses.
That as soon as you fill the bird feeder, the squirrel will come. With friends.
That WiFi only goes out when the big game is coming on.
How to find your glasses. At midnight, in the dark. Without tripping over your black dog.
That everything changes. Including people. And your ability to stay up late.
That life is short, but what you do with the time is up to you, and you should do as much as you can. Without worrying about what everyone else thinks. It’s not only okay to love yourself, it’s in your DNA. Make it count.
Beware of false knowledge; it is more dangerous than ignorance.
Aging can be quite entertaining sometimes. Kind of like getting on a roller coaster that takes you up, down, and around…but this ride is not one you can easily predict. You’ve watched others get onboard and hit speeds that amaze you, and you’ve seen what it can do to their faces, mid-sections, and personalities.
And you swear that won’t happen to you.
Wow, I’ll never look that bad in a swimsuit. For sure, I won’t walk around with hair that color. You won’t catch me wearing something that age-inappropriate.
But we all have been guilty, right? If not in public, then within the confines of our homes. Who hasn’t walked past their bedroom mirror and wondered who that is in the reflection…it must be the poor lighting.
But as many others who’ve walked ahead on this path, we eventually relax a bit and accept—even celebrate—the changes that are happening. A bit of gray can be distinctive. Reading glasses have never been more chic. It’s a whole lot more relaxing at the beach when you’re not trying to hold in your stomach.
And woohoo for senior discounts!
I hear someone on the radio talking about an older friend of theirs who said, “I only have about 30 more summers, I want to make the most of them.” (The person who said this is 68.) You bet. If a good long lifespan can be divided into thirds, then this can be the best one—the one where you guard your time for what matters.
Want to get a coloring book and buy some crayons? Go for it. (Be sure to close your eyes and smell them before you even use them, you’ll go somewhere magical.)
Want to drive to a natural retreat and just sit and listen to the morning birdsong? Do it. And turn off your phone.
Want to learn Italian? No one needs to know but you. And your brain will thank you.
What is harder is when you start to feel your mind is not quite as sharp as it once was. It’s infuriating to not be able to remember a last name, or how you modified that recipe before, or which player made that amazing play last year to win the finals.
And it can be frightening as well, especially if a parent or other loved one spent their last years in cognitive decline.
There’s no easy answer to that, but there are ways we can fight back, or at least slow it down. Regular exercise (not just an extra trip to the fridge. Actual cardio and strength work.) A healthier diet (Sit down to more fruits and veggies each day. Push back from the table before you are full.) Good companionship and opportunities to be around upbeat, interesting people. (Check out why people in the Blue Zones around the world have the greatest longevity).
Keep learning new things. Or even relearn some things you know you’ve forgotten. That can be hard to admit. But if it was worth knowing before, it’s worth relearning now.
And while we’re at it, let’s really let go of some of the stuff we don’t need to “know” anymore. It’s okay to store addresses and phone numbers in your phone (just occasionally read an old-fashioned map). Can’t remember a favorite recipe? Look up a new one, and see how it tastes. Has it been years since you did Tai chi? Just get up and gently move around, breathe deeply, and see how that feels.
And please, let go of things that caused pain, like the names of the mean kids in 8th grade or your first boss who didn’t like anybody. Maybe it’s worth forgetting.
It’s YOUR time. You’ve never been this wise. The universe is just waiting to show you what’s possible.
“Your problem is how you are going to spend this one odd and precious life you have been issued. Whether you’re going to spend it trying to look good and creating the illusion that you have power over people and circumstances, or whether you are going to taste it, enjoy it and find out the truth about who you are.” Anne Lamott
So much heaviness these days. It seems harder and harder to find a ray of light. For me, Nature is always a refuge, especially as I grow older. Work comes and goes, friends come and go, bad news seems to be everywhere, health challenges wax and wane, and the noise of life overwhelms.
Maybe just take a breath. And a walk in the woods.
Poet Mary Oliver puts it beautifully.
When I am Among the Trees
by Mary Oliver
When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,“
and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”
The seasons are changing. The air is sharper; the colors are brighter. The light is there: we just have to find it.
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