THOUGHTS ON TURNING FIFTY

I was talking with a friend about turning fifty and he grinned at me and said, “How can I be fifty when I still feel like I’m twenty five?”

I concurred ruefully, admitting that I am sometimes concerned that I’m stuck at thirteen with all the angst and insecurity that accompanies that age. Later, reflecting on our conversation, I realized that I don’t feel younger, I simply feel….Betty. The Betty that has always been, the Betty that has evolved over the past fifty years. I wouldn’t want to be my younger version. I savor the growth I’ve experienced to get to the age I am.

Could twenty five year old Betty, focused as she rightly was on her career and her new husband, appreciate the music of my fish pond? Could she have paused to point her camera at a wilting flower? I don’t think she could have, nor should have at that moment in her life, but I’m glad she does now.

I have learned many hard lessons since I was twenty five. I’ve learned to hang on and I’ve learned to let go and have tested the limits of what to do when. I have a Phd. in patience and am currently doing post doc work on that subject. I believe that I am kinder now, have a more complete reverence for life, for all lives, not just human ones. I have maintained a sense of optimism, but now that optimism is tempered with decades of tears as well as laughter, so that it sheens a healthy shell of realism.

I seek to gracefully surrender the things of youth, although I pride myself that I can still do a cartwheel. I have earned every laugh line I have and am proud of them. No needle will ever know my face to erase them. My body is not perfect but it’s mine and I’m happy to sleep with it every night, even if by myself.

These are my hopes for myself for the years ahead of me:

I hope that I never develop a sense of decorum.

I hope that I never forget all of the dirty jokes in my repertoire.

I hope that I never lose the sense of awe at the sight of a hummingbird.

I hope that I never feel obliged to color my hair.

I hope that I never lose my desire for sex.

I hope that I always remember what it feels like to be the age of my children.

I hope that I always am able to surround myself with friends when I need them, and to be there when they need me.

I hope that I am always able to turn the other cheek, soothe the fevered brow, love my neighbor, especially if he’s handsome.

I hope, as I grow older, to get better at finding the stillness within and the laughter without.

Thank you for sharing with me my fiftieth birthday.

Hopeless

Life is an illusion.

We are alone in this vast universe, with no one but ourselves to blame for all that is wrong in the world.

Although a glimmer might appear on the horizon, cloaked in darkness with bright color beaconing

Even that is an illusion because beauty fades

Death and destruction abound.

THere is no hope of change. No hope that life will ever be anything but what it is right now.

Nothing is new, all is a repeat of what lived and died before.

There is no magic, no wonder

no beauty.

Yeah, right.....