The transformation is coming slowly. I care more about comfort than fashion. For example no more high heels when my husband and I go out. I also don’t wear much make up anymore, just a bit of lip gloss and a bit of mascara. I am more content to be at home, puttering around the house, watching movies, caring for the plants, reading, and writing. My family is important and I realize that my family is what holds life together; our gatherings and times together are priceless and create memories for us all. The years, as they pass, give perspective and I know what things are important, and what things are not worth fretting about.
Self knowledge is the most important aspect that I nurture in this lifetime. Without self respect and self knowledge I have nothing to offer. As a young woman and mother I was in an abusive marriage, battered, both emotionally and physically. I had to, over the years, rebuild my life. I used to question why things were happening to me. The revelation was that I was allowing myself to remain a victim. It was within my power to change.
Age is only a point of reference. Since I have become a grandmother it has taken me awhile to admit my age, unless someone asked me directly I avoided the subject. I am not sure why. Perhaps we are taught to fear growing older and losing our physical beauty. Now I know it doesn’t matter. I would hope that those of us who are older have earned some respect simply because we have had life experience. Sadly we are a youth driven culture in this country. So it goes.
I complete my 62nd year this August. I am a late bloomer, it seems, like it or not it is what it is. I didn’t find the right man until I was well into my fifties and we have been married for 6 years and counting. I can hardly believe I am in my 60’s. Really, is 60 the new 40? I am sure I am not the only woman whose reflection in the mirror has astounded her; the face that looks back doesn’t match the inside at all. I am told I look young for my age. I attribute that to my mother, whose genes I have inherited. She is in her mid 80’s and has just recently begun to gray and she has beautiful skin. Thanks to Dad I am an early grayer, but thanks to the hair salon and a good hairdresser, no one would know. I don’t hesitate for a moment to spend money on keeping the gray away. I am not ready yet. My husband is several years younger than me (11 years) so it is mainly for this reason (and my still present vanity) that I strive to appear more youthful. When he begins get gray hair, perhaps I will relax a bit. I am definitely not into Botox or other such nonsense. I believe that a person should age as gracefully as possible and this is one of my goals in life.
Writing is sorting. Writing down the stream of consciousness gives us a way to respect the mind, to choose among and harness thoughts, to interact with and change the contents of who we think we are. And that is what the spiritual journey is: a major change, over time, in who we think we are, followed by a corresponding change in what we believe ourselves capable of doing. >>>>>Christine Baldwin Life's Companion: Journal Writing as a Spiritual Quest>>>
Monday, July 25, 2011
In My Sixties, Finally Admitting It
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
“A miracle is simply a shift in perception.” Mariann...
It stands on the corner where Alder and Bridge Streets intersect; the house where I spent my teenage years and from which I left when I be...
The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. William Ross Wallace The days of winter continue. The holidays are long over and daily li...
Post a Comment