Eegads… One more day, dang, less than 24hours, double dang, and I will embrace a new year of living on this planet. Birthdays come ever so quickly as age settles in… don’t they?
I look in the mirror and see the me that I have become visually, with my shorter white hair coiffed in a tousle made in a semi-deliberate fashion, with the occasionally wisp of purple or pink or maybe blue in that tease of curl at my forehead.
Behind my ‘trendy’ framed glasses, my once vivid dark brown eyes have a soft cool halos of cloud circling them. A wrinkle fest has slowly developed around those eyes that still hold a spark of clever in them. I can see them and thank the Goddess for the wit that still flames out from them.
The lips have yet to have those vertical wrinkles typical of being over 60. AND, When I lift those lips in a smile my best feature sparkles out. My smile, it’s a good one. A gift really. Good teeth and a little something’ something’. It has been complimented on by hundreds of people and I Am Grateful. It holds itself proud and I like to share it often.
The days of the good horizontal now tend to embrace the pull of the vertical gravity. Damn it.
Not too many horizontal wrinkles on the forehead, that’s good.
Dare I go just below the chin? Damn it. Shit. Looky there will ya. That’s where the nature of my face slides to. It’s all I can do not to give a gobble gobble gobble and cluck to the way my flesh gives a prominent sag and jiggle. A droopy chunk of fat flesh… It’s all I can see when I have a bad day. It’s all I can see and I want it gone. And there it is. It’s all I can see.
I’m not even going to go below my tits and say a word about that. You don’t want to hear any of that.
With that said, I choose to not let gravity pull at my visuals endlessly, to drag my illusive stories about what is and isn’t in to being. I get to choose the story I have about how I look, feel, experience my world. I GET TO ChOOSE. Thank God. Really, cause to forget that I get to make up another story about it all would pull me into some dark hell, and leave me victim to all that negative self-talk about my poor sagging ass and that frickin’ sorry looking flap of flesh below my chin. That Is NOt how my Truth seeks it’s Heaven. Heck, I’m a story teller, let me make it a good one.
The best of me is in the unseen. I like to think that’s where everyone’s best is nestled. The deeper self beyond the physical facade of our bodies that gives a certain surface story. Never the full story. A full story comes with getting to know me, you, anyone. Beyond all the wrinkles, the belly rolls, the little fade of the eyes, the crimp of the flesh, the sag of the breast, the veins in the legs. Beyond all that surface stuff that youth and age give tale to.
My best self tries to embrace the journey of life, in the predictability of how age takes it’s toll on the body.
Best to not worry about the next 20/30 years cause there’s the luck of having that much time let in the breathing. No knowing that.
It’s Happy Birthday time and there is struggle in seeing that face in the mirror fading. Turn that noise down so I can hear ‘My best self’ remind me I am ageless and perfect as I am. I am the best of what I am right now. I will forever in some way or another vibrate out there in the Infinite Universe with or without a body. It’s what energy does; changes form.
It’s Happy Birthday to me and I’m good right now. Full of gratitude for my family and friends, my work, my creativity.
I’ve decided the word for ‘my New Year’ is spaciousness. Ridding myself of what doesn’t serve my life, inhibits my life, fills up too much of my life so there is Spaciousness in my breath, in my movement, in my inhabiting this body. Big Breath… Exhale. AGAin.
Spaciousness. that’s what I will be about this year.