“Tell me, what do you intend to do with your one wild and precious life?” – Mary Oliver
A decade ago, I called my grandmother to celebrate her 80th birthday. She chuckled and said, “Oh, Lila, I don’t feel 80.” At that time, I had just turned 30 and was starting to grasp the concept of time. Her words resonated with me; after all, in our hearts, we often remain eternally young.
Now, as I greet my 40s with a warm hug, I feel this truth even more intensely. I’m not experiencing 40 the way I thought I would. Aging is nothing like what I envisioned.
Of course, I can see the signs—there’s a line that has made a permanent residence on my forehead, my arms are surrendering to gravity, and those pesky gray hairs seem to appear out of nowhere. I also find myself increasingly drawn to comfortable footwear. Yet, these changes are merely superficial aspects of the body that carries my spirit; they do not define me. While I believe in maintaining my health and maximizing my body’s potential, I understand that ultimately, it will age, deteriorate, and eventually cease to function. This truth is universal, even if we prefer to avoid it. Our physical selves can sometimes feel like a betrayal to our vibrant spirits.
Recently, I spent time with my grandmother, now nearly 90, and I noticed her frustration with the discrepancy between her youthful mind and her aging body. I can relate. I, too, feel like a “young woman” at 40. The years may change our bodies, but they don’t diminish our spirits.
This intertwining of our physical and spiritual selves can lead us to desperately cling to our youth, to resist time’s passage, and to seek ways to reverse nature’s course. This longing stems from a fear of mortality, societal pressures to conform to youthful standards, and a genuine desire for our outer appearance to align with our inner selves.
However, I refuse to squander my beautiful, fleeting life trying to halt the flow of time. I’d rather navigate its currents, honing my skills while appreciating the ever-changing landscape around me. Time is a precious gift, and I want to use it to truly live, rather than to deceive myself or others into thinking I am impervious to aging. The thought of dying doesn’t frighten me; the fear of not fully living does.
Beauty can be a perplexing concept. Consider the story of a woman who refrained from smiling for 40 years to avoid wrinkles. What a pity! I believe our experiences shape our faces. The laugh lines are evidence of joy and make the process of aging beautiful. I admit, I’m not thrilled about my concentration line, which can make me look perpetually annoyed, so I do what I can to soften it. Yet even that line tells a story—one of contemplation, motherhood, and the challenges of expressing my thoughts. I don’t despise the lines on my face; they are part of my narrative.
These physical signs of time don’t negate a youthful spirit; instead, they narrate the journey of life. Viewed through this lens, our external appearances align with our inner experiences. Wrinkles and gray hair may represent surface changes, but they also embody the rich tapestry of human existence. There’s genuine beauty in the stories they tell, marking the passage of time and the lessons learned along the way.
As I celebrate another year of life, I find the anxiety of aging dissipating. There’s no room for that. While we all age, we can choose our approach. I choose to embrace growing older with grace, to live joyfully, and to welcome my age—drooping skin and all.
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In summary, embracing aging is about recognizing the beauty in our experiences and the stories etched on our faces. As we navigate the currents of life, we can celebrate the journey rather than resist it.