Nobody told me the greatest difficulty of aging would be growing older in a world that spins an ugly, sad story about the experience.
We live in a time of anti-aging serum, anti-aging vitamins, and anti-aging exercises that are used as weapons to fight the enemy of change.
In this world of anti-aging, those who grow gray and wrinkled are ignored. We become invisible, and are unprepared for this indignity. We begin to tell each other a story of potential irrelevance that results in desperate action, as we hold up shields of plastic surgery and face-lifts to fend off the onslaught of change.
Our fear of aging creates an environment where we constantly, frantically spin to make all things new. Our phones and laptops are improved every year, and we stand in line to buy the youngest version. Beautiful old houses of character are gutted, their historical details destroyed so that we can have a new, open concept with shiny stainless steel appliances.
We cut down redwoods to make new cabinets, totally discounting the fact that the redwood might have 1,000 years of rings inside its trunk.
Since the consumerism of the 50’s, we have built a society where everything must be young and new and fresh and unwrinkled. Every single new house looks like every other. Every car mirrors the car beside it.
Plastic surgery has created the flawless, uniform face that lacks the physical characteristics that distinguish us.
Perhaps we need to rewrite the story we started writing in the 50’s. . .
Maybe our story shouldn’t be about anti-aging. Maybe it should be about the wisdom, experience and peace gathered along the way.
Perhaps our story of buying new appliances should become a story about saving the earth, and appreciating the palate found in a house where appliances don’t match.
Our new story won’t worship the young hero or heroine before the journey begins. Because, quite frankly, the main character rarely becomes a hero or heroine until he or she has faced life’s difficulties, and battled dragons, and learned lessons, and come out the other side. True beauty comes from every scar, broken bone, broken heart and courageous moment.
If we release our need for all things new, perhaps our story will be less about the outside of life and more about the interior landscape that becomes more beautiful with every day met and every lesson learned.
Let’s join together and start telling a new story where our goal is not to run against Father Time but to hold his wizened hand and walk down life’s path together. In this story we will listen and laugh and learn.
Just like the rings on a redwood, our wrinkles tell the story of our years. There is beauty in them. And, boy, do we have some stories to tell.
15 comments. Leave new
Choices are ever present, with the most frequent ones dealing with what we hang on to versus accepting the now.
We can either use compassion to bemoan something about our self or we can embrace our only true point of being, now.
When we notice how we are different now from some point in the past, we can choose to find sorrow in it, or we can choose to take a deep look at who we have become now. We can look into our eye in a mirror and realize all that we are, we can choose to love our self as we have become, in all of it’s glory and splendor.
Choices of perspectives are always in our command.
Thank you, John. I’m going to print your comment and keep it close by so I can read it every day!
Opps, the word compassion should have been comparison. Sometimes I don’t pay close enough attention to spell check!
Compassion comes when we realize who we really are right now. :))
Both work for me :).
Donna, I enjoyed this read. Frankly I am far more concerned about how things work than how they look. A feat in itself seeing that I will turn 60 this summer. I have the advantage of ‘good genes’ and don’t suffer too much from wrinkles and such. But I truthfully don’t mind them. The sagging process … oh hell no! That is not my friend. I figure I can feel confident and wrinkled. But confident and saggy? Not there yet. Thanks for sharing.
With age comes wisdom. The wrinkles are just a side effect. And no one can be ‘Anti” that type of thinking. I’m embracing these years and making the most of each moment.
And I can feel that, Janie, in your humor and passion. Truly. I love your writing!
Donna, our weird emphasis on the down-side of aging came through when I tried to submit this post to Stumble Upon–the only relevant category they have is “Antiaging”! Um, can anyone say “QED”?
Karen
Karen – that is amazing. Wow.
When I see the ravages of bad plastic surgery it totally turns me off. Better to wear your years than risk looking scary (like Joan Rivers).
I agree – it’s hard to look sometimes, although Joan’s honesty about being addicted to plastic surgery is refreshing. I am just too big a chicken about getting a really bad job, which would happen. My mouth would stretch to my ears or one eye would end up higher than another or something equally ridiculous.
I just want to be happy and healthy, but if I find something cheap and safe that makes me look good for my age, I’m all over it. However, when all is said and done I want to be remembered as a friend, wife, mom and grandma that cared more about people than my appearance.
Linda: Fair statement. I am a humorist, so a lot of my words are to make people laugh — but we all want to look good, no matter what our age. To your point about how we are remembered, I remember my tall, strapping father who died from cancer. He had shrunk from 6′ tall to almost 5′ due to breakage of his vertebrae. Right before he died, he said “None of it matters. What you live in, what you drive, what you look like. What matters is the people you love and being kind to others. That’s it.” I think he was right.
Cant agree more Donna. Body certainly ages. Age of mind is something that is dependent on an individual. We can keep our mind fit, fresh, and relevant to “now.” That is what is supposed to separate someone in early 20s to someone in early 50s. There are countless instances of folks fit in their 50s, 60s, etc. to inspire us.
Thanks for sharing this gem of an article.
Raghu: Thank you for your very kind comment, and I agree – keeping the mind young is critical. My mom is in her 80’s and sharp as a tack. I had a great aunt who was 96 and still as sharp as ever. Excellent distinction. Good to hear from you!