Aging Gracefully

Changes

/ wvfurandroot / Leave a comment
Photo by x ) on Unsplash

Nothing in my world is certain but “this too shall pass” which is my stock answer to everyone and anyone who asks for advice. Good or not, whatever is going on will be interrupted by change. 

Sometimes I let my guard down, thinking I’ve reached a state of stasis where the pattern of my life is on a path that has been steady (sometimes unrelentingly so) and I think, This is it.  This is what my last twenty years are going to look like” and then the Universe laughs at me and drops a boulder on what I thought would be a steady path.

John Lennon said, “Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans.”

Well, this time the Universe dropped a boulder ON me and I’ve been trying to carry the damn thing down the path.  Finally, I realized:

Put the damn boulder down.  There there.  See how nice that feels.  Walk around the damn things or crawl over them, but they’re not to be carried. And while you’re at it, clean out that backpack.  You don’t need all that shit.  And get some sturdy hiking boots while you’re at it.  You are not a forest nymph – bare feet for these, the last 20 good years, are going to require support and thick soles.

I think they call realizations of this magnitude epiphanies.

I know this too shall pass, but what I thought was an impasse is simply a wake-up call.  All my life, I’ve had to switch paths.  I have no idea why I clung to this one.  It wasn’t headed anywhere particularly interesting. 

So, I’m heading into the forest where there are lions and tigers and bears, oh my.  I hope to find the Emerald City.  I could use a spa day.

The Revolt

/ wvfurandroot / 4 Comments
Me at 13
The Revolt

My hands cramp, fingers arching backward.
Arthritis. Two Advil daily.

My lower back aches, stooping my spine.
My arches continue their path to flat.

It feels like betrayal this revolt.

I was supple and graceful once upon a time.
First a disco queen and then a yoga diva.

This revolt surprises me.
The me that was me that will always 
be me is still there.

But aging and menopause have not been kind to me.

I tell the young’uns not to get old ---
there’s no future in it.

My arm wattles jiggle when I do goddess pose.

Oh, how I wanted something to jiggle when I was 13.
Unnaturally thin for most of my life,
I longed for hips and breasts.  
I had neither until the hot flashes were spent.

This extra weight is foreign to me.
There doesn’t seem to be a map for this territory.

I am frequently besmirched by the 
indignities of old age.

The beginnings of incontinence,
dull dry brittle hair,
my oily skin suddenly flaky and wrinkled.
But the acne has persisted.

I buy moisturizer and acne remedies.

I’ve quit wearing eyeliner.
The crepe underneath my eyes
prevents a straight line.

My beloved shoes languish in the closet.
My balance precarious --
four-inch heels may be my past.

This menopause cleavage astounds me.

Oh, how I had longed for breasts and 
now am plagued by underwire.

This revolt aggravates me.

My visage in the mirror a shock.
Who is that woman?

I feel weighed down by this body in revolt, 
but I practice yoga and I continue to dance.

My spirit intact.  
The me that was me that will always be me 
is still there.  

In revolt against the revolt.