We all want to stay young in mind and body and heart.
Except for those seven wazoos out there who dream at night of rocking back and forth on a creaking wooden chair in the wee hours of the morning with china tea cups and a mouthful of gums.
For the mind:
Keep up with technology.
Yeah. You may dislike it, find no need for it. But it’s probably just because you don’t understand it. Often times we shy away from things we do not understand.
But get your butt out there and learn the ways of todays communication system. You don’t have to be an avid user, but learn the basics and go from there. You’ll find yourself being less harsh to youngsters and others will find you more approachable. They just will. People can sense that kind of stuff.
Also for the mind, there’s all kinds of brain books, websites, instruments, problem solving type of deals. Make it a thing to do one a day. Keep your brain active.
Exercise is quite the obvious when it comes to the body. I won’t get much into that besides saying the following:
If you find walking or biking boring, create your own movement. Kite flying? Sure! Playing the trumpet and marching around your living room? Yes!
I save the heart for last because it’s my favourite.
And because I just figured it out the other day. And probably because its really the reason for this post.
Any of the young 65,70 year olds I’ve met. Are confident. Hilarious. WITH it. They can joke about themselves. They didn’t try and resist the parts of aging that they couldn’t stop. Wrinkles,bad hips, knees.. etc. They have aura of self around them and they’re exerting that effortlessly.
I just think I’m always going to be young in my heart because I’m not embarressed anymore of my faults. I’ve taken who I’ve created-after assessing and accepting- and grabbed on. I ain’t letting meself go, I am merely going to add more beautiful colours and strength to me and I’m going to do my darndest to keep up with the place I’m living in and all humanity I’m surrounded by.
That’s a good chunk of life right there and what better choice to make than to be open to learning and to be friends with everything, including best friends with yourself.
Because if you’re friends with self, you’re gonna wanna live a lot longer with you.
And the drive behind living is incredibly powerful.
It’s happened a few times before within the four years I have had this blog.
That come home, check WordPress feeling.
Of continually wanting to write and express and tell the cyberworld all the things I see in a day.
Like the nailpolish of a- I swear-92 year old woman. There is no way she could have got it done professionally. For in all the blob nation, from cuticles to finger wrinkles, it was like a paintball had exploded on each nail.
I grinned inside and thought inside, ‘ hey, what’s 92 gonna be like without giving nailpolish a try’.
My parents are back in the place I lived in for five years.
Just for a vacation.
Five years of my teaching and drinking and having child and marriage and being and learning the living.
They are in the midst, my mothers skirts brushing at the strokes of my history. My fathers golf swing smothering the memories and moments of mine.
It is strange. They to be meeting with my ex husband. For him to give them a box and for him to give them papers.
It all feels strange. And unreal.
Is this my life or anothers.
I like meeting people.
At least, I used to.
It’s not at parties or bars anymore. It’s at play places or through my husbands work.
And that is never the same.
For a number of reasons. Not just because I’m not drunk but because they are twice as old as me.
Not just because I’m carrying an 8 month old but because I can’t flirt my way through the conversation.
That used to be my confidence. That used to be where I dug in my heels and planted myself firmly.
And I figure this all out as I’m listening to an older lady speak about books and how she thinks I should read this one when I can find the time. ( glancing down at my young one )
The dynamic, my approach has me reeling. Because it can’t be the same. It won’t be the same.
I flounder, trying to get a good grip, to get to a spot I am eager to play with.
I wonder at what age I will see adults as people just like myself. I wonder when I’ll accept the fact that I to, am an adult. Maybe there will always be stages and transitions and growing and learning. That’s something I should be okay with too. I love becoming better. Who doesn’t. Sometimes it’s work. Sometimes it is effortless.
Sometimes it takes a look into a brilliantly blue eyed 72 year old with a bamboo stick as a cane, to figure out that ‘hey, we’re all just living here’.