Today my niece Jeannelle is 21. How quaint that sounds. As Aunt June points out, turning 21 surely carries less cache in these times than for previous generations. Now the young people drive at 16, vote at 18 and do lots of other significant things whenever they think they are ready.
Anyways, whenever 2 or more BARPers (or close to being that) get together around a birthday, the inevitable conversation about aging. Got me to thinking why so many of us entering, according to the life expectancy tables, the last third of our lives (give or take a few years, based on the current gerontology medicine and not factoring in the long and well living gene endowment) insist that the language and mindset of aging, if not the physical consequences, can and should be avoided. You know the talk. ‘I am 56 years young’, the evasive ‘I am as young as I think and feel’ something no actually youthful person ever says, or as an American doctor told me once, “I do not accept numerical expressions of the passage of time’. Right on then.
We are, no doubt about it, living in the youth culture and for our generation, the generation that was able to reject so much convention, we have an expectation of being forever young. Aren’t we the cool ones? Yes we are- of the big afro, the cleopatra shoes (remember- gladiators without sole but lots of soul), Bob Marley, gender bending Elton John, hot pants, no bra and girdle, self-defining womanhood, etc.
So denial. But perhaps more than that, a deep in the bones feeling that getting old is a hardship, something unfair really. Nature’s designing abilities gone way awry. And in lots of ways finally, aging will be a hardship or as I heard Frank Solomon say many years ago, aging is a shipwreck.
I was blithe about age, in the way that only people who know not can be. And found comical that compensatory talk with the turn of every new decade. At 40, ‘Now I know myself’, at 50, ‘Now I really understand myself’, at 60, ‘Now I am so comfortable and can truly embrace life’.
Then I turned 40 which morphed into the f word, not to be spoken in company. What was that about? Youthfulness, there is no denying is beautiful- actually physically beautiful and psychically enjoyable. It is all ahead, the possibilities. You are someone of potential and your world is alert to that.
Moving on in age is also moving off centre stage of possibilities. You are mostly what you have become. And that’s not a bad place to be but there is constriction, the catching of breath in the moment of that awareness. And then “Le Reveil Mortel’, realization of finiteness.
Now I use the f word all the time and there are 2 decades of that to make us comfortable with the idea anyways. I think of each day and birthday as a huge blessing. Compensatory thinking or not, I am all there with the ‘Now I really understand myself’ and soon I will be ‘ready to embrace all kinds of life’.
As I listen to my mother talk about ‘floaters’ apparently an image the crosses the eye from time to time, or the pinging, background noise in the ears, I understand that there is a profound ordinariness and predictability to body changes. The psychological trick seems to be to approach the passage of time with gratitude and grace not to mention lots of exercise and green leaves. And hopefully, there it will be- aging as a gift. The birthday IS the present.
Happy Birthday Jeannelle.
I must say that I love Rosina’s mental construct of life. So much so that I had to read it out to my daughters who both appreciated it. It is a construct that I myself hold in theory, even if and though I might not always act it out in reality. This is a nice reminder and model to keep in mind.
I also guess the mental construct can help in the maintenance of good health, even though I know for sure that it does not guarantee it.
The answer I suppose would be to find that mental space, or attitude, that allows us live while we’re alive using whatever works to do so until nothing works. 🙂
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Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter. ~Mark Twain
I used to be quite reticent about my age. I think I enjoyed the fact that most persons thought I was younger and of course, I told myself that I did not want to disappoint them, so I kept it to myself most of the time. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it). My mother, on the other hand discussed my age openly, as she had no qualms about her age… why should I? 🙂
Last October, I had taken the day off from a busy work schedule and spent my 50th birthday quietly doing ‘stuff’. Mama was the centre of planning a surprise party for my birthday. I had a great time at the party, celebrating with family and friends. Mama had turned 89 just 11 days before. Secretly, I was planning her 90th birthday bash.
It was my last birthday celebration with my mother. Two months later she passed and my plans for celebrating her 90th dissolved. Less than a year later I am ‘redundantly retired’ from my busy work schedule and plan to celebrate my 51st with a little less fanfare, but celebrate nonetheless.
Happy belated birthday Jeannelle.
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This strikes a very deep chord as in a less than a few weeks I officially register the Big 50. It’s been tortuous, as for the past few days, I have turned my attention to deciding on the form of celebration or perhaps what form of acknowledgment I will engage.
You see my original plan since last year envisaged a soiree with two of my oldest and dearest friends from the teenage years. But the financial crisis swept away that plan as all three of us decided to retreat.
At 21, my life was full of unknown promise, love, unbridled success in the world. At 50, life is not perfect but replete.
Now I can truly smile with joy as I look at the horizon and see Jenel, a jewel beginning her journey of etching her stone. Happy Birthday Jenel.
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I like that- replete. And you certainly know how to live.
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I am also fascinated by the mental constructs of aging and the reality of what being 63 means for me. When I turned 13 I was disappointed that all the hype about becoming a teenager seemed only hype. I was still me and nothing had really changed. I had gone through “becoming a young lady” as my mother termed my life changes before thirteen.
Then sixteen came and I wondered. My friends told me that I should no longer be running along the school corridors because I was a big girl. I still love to take a skip and run along corridors when the spirit moves me.
Twenty one was wonderful with my big 21st birthday party and 50 was even better. I threw a great 50th birthday party with steel pan music playing and my best friends from primary school joining my university and work related close friends and family.
I am looking forward to seventy with eagerness.
What I discovered along the way is that people have very fixed ideas about what it means to be a certain age including illnesses and appropriate behaviour. They tend to live out their mental constructs.
My mother is 95 and was swimming as she usually does when she spent her usual month’s vacation with us in July. She does not like to swim too close to shore since she does not want to have the sand touching her feet when she swims. She is my role model on aging. Totally open and flexible about the changing realities and totally engaged in living fully, lovingly and gracefully. We know that she will not live forever.
I have always been conscious of being finite at the level of flesh and I have no fear of that reality. I am thoroughly enjoying this earth experience and the chronological years as they roll by. I am also extremely grateful for life, family and friends and the beauty of the earth. I sprint on the beach from time to time and this morning talked with a beach colleague who is involved in the seniors games about my taking part next year. Let the years roll on. Happy birthday Jeannelle.
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