“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 wish her a happy 80th birthday. With a hearty laugh, she replied, “Oh, dear. I don’t feel 80.” At the time, I was just stepping into my 30s, still grasping the nuances of time. I understood her sentiment; in our minds, we often remain forever young.
Now, as I welcome 40, that truth resonates more deeply. I don’t feel the way I anticipated I would at this milestone. Aging is a journey far different from what I envisioned.
Of course, the signs of aging are evident—the crease that has settled into my forehead, the skin on my arms yielding to gravity, and those unexpected gray hairs that seem to have a mind of their own. Not to mention, my increasing preference for comfortable footwear. Yet, these are merely external markers of the body I inhabit; they do not define my essence. My spirit, my core, remains untouched by the passage of time.
Recently, I spent time with my grandmother, now almost 90. I could see her frustration as her youthful spirit clashed with her aging body. I completely empathize. At 40, I still consider myself a “young woman.” The years may weigh on our bodies, but they do little to diminish our spirit.
The intertwining of our physical and spiritual selves often leads us to cling to our youth, resisting the inevitable flow of time. This tendency could stem from a fear of mortality, society’s obsession with youth, or a genuine desire to align our outward appearance with our inner vibrancy.
However, I refuse to squander my precious life trying to halt the river of time. Instead, I choose to navigate its currents, savoring the beauty along the way. Time is finite, and I want to engage fully with life, rather than seeking ways to deceive myself or others about my age. The thought of dying doesn’t frighten me; it’s the idea of not truly living that does.
Beauty can be a complex concept. I once read about a woman who abstained from smiling for 40 years to avoid wrinkles—a tragic choice. Our faces tell the stories of our lives. Laugh lines reflect a life filled with joy and can make aging a beautiful process. While I may wish to diminish my frown lines, they represent a contemplative soul, a devoted mother, a writer wrestling with the chaotic thoughts in my head. I don’t resent the lines; they contribute to my narrative.
The physical signs of aging do not contradict a timeless spirit; they serve as storytellers of our experiences. When viewed through that lens, our outer appearance aligns with our inner selves. Wrinkles and gray hair are simply surface changes that symbolize the wonder and mystery of being human. There is profound beauty in the stories they narrate and in the lessons learned over time.
As I celebrate another year of life, I feel the weight of aging lift away. There’s no space for fear. Aging is a shared journey, and how we embrace it is up to us. I choose to age gracefully, to live joyfully, and to welcome my age—flaws and all.
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In summary, embracing age is about recognizing the interplay between our physical and spiritual selves. Each wrinkle tells a story, and as I navigate this journey, I choose joy and acceptance over fear.