Marie Taylor, Ink

When I woke up this morning my shoulder was stiff and aching, and one knee didn’t want to work properly.  It ain’t easy being an old broad. As you age, the body’s demand for attention seems never-ending. There’s always an ache or pain somewhere, a stiff muscle that doesn’t want to stretch, a swollen joint that doesn’t want to bend, a body that seems heavier this morning than it did last night.

At the same time that the body is becoming less obedient, the heart is requiring more compassion. We have to get used to letting go – of expectations, of opinions, of control. One by one, our fingers are prised from the things we own, from the people and pets we love, the abilities we value and from the freedoms we cherish.

This letting go of the outward gives us the freedom to explore the interior. We are at leisure to examine our lives, to toss out unkind judgments, forgive others, and finally to release the need for perfection from our own shoulders. We have the freedom to take up hobbies, travel, eat junk food. wear clothes that don’t match and socks with sandals.

Some say we’re not as sharp as once we were. While we may not remember if we turned off the stove, we can easily recall our first kiss, remember the faces of our children running through a meadow, or recall the blue flowered wallpaper of our childhood bedroom.

Admittedly, our hearing may not be what once it was but the words we spoke in anger or in love so many years ago still echo in our hearts. We continue to hear the songs we sang in celebration and in solitude. 

Then one day we experience the shock of attaining the childhood wish of near invisibility. Like the old Sicilian women wrapped in black shawls sitting on wooden chairs in front of ancient houses, we no longer have to meet exhausting standards in sexual attractiveness. Even when we are present, others no longer see us because we are no longer Players. We are not climbing career ladders, possessing status symbols or wielding power. For us, it is Game Over.

As our focus becomes less acute, our field of vision widens. When we remove our cataracts and take off our bifocals, we see that beauty shines forth everywhere, in beetles and birds and weeds along the road, in old buildings and old dogs and soup simmering on the stove. Even in its horrors, we see that life is resplendent in its creative power that is never-ending and ultimately benign.

While we sleep, our soul is quietly preparing suitcases for the journey ahead. What we will be allowed to take, and what must be left behind?

“ My bones

Feel the quilts;

A frosty night.“

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