Birthday number sixty-two came and went a few days ago. Today, As my feet hit the floor my knees were annoyingly effective in reminding me of my thirty or so years of running. The snap and crackle sound of my joints continued as I moved downstairs to the kitchen. Geez. I thought. I’d never be able to stealth my way into anywhere with these knees; I would be heard from a mile away! Before the ritual of morning coffee, I give my achy knees a gentle rub to warm them up and as I did so vowed to move with as much grace as possible through year sixty-three, arthritic knees and such be damned!
What a blessing it was to celebrate another year around the sun with sis and company. The day was lovely, albeit unseasonably warm, and it was capped off by a divinely delicious dinner prepared by sis. On the menu that night was a first for me: 40-clove garlic chicken. How is it possible that in all these years I’d never enjoyed such a delight to the taste buds?
Time is flying. Be open to new things, came the whisper…
Each year that passes now reels me into a “deepening” of sorts….ever longer moments in a quieter space filled with moments of brutal self-reflection, sadness for what was and what wasn’t, but also joy for heart-warming memories and moments of complete fulfillment. There are many more moments in a day that I realize that there is far less time ahead of me. The sound of the clock ticking as each minute passes grows louder, almost thunderous. Some days I handle this preoccupation exceedingly well, at least I’d like to think I do. Others, well…not so much. For example, my husband will say or do some thing–silly, in the scheme of it all–that makes my head pop in purple minion fashion. It’s been twenty-plus years of this same song I’ll mutter under my breath enough times that in a flash of Italian anger I’ll tell him that I don’t want to spend one more minute of my precious golden years with that tired old slide guitar-of-a-song clamoring in the background…
..if you get my drift.
Thankfully, I catch myself quickly now. Perhaps its simply due to age–the mellowing of every fiber of my being, or my new milestone…369 consecutive days of a meditation practice. In the midst of an angst-filled moment, with a long, slow inhale and exhale– a wave of crystal clear awareness will smack me between the eyes and with it comes the wisdom from a thousand sages before me: this moment is all that there is…so stop projecting Missy that you’ll be dealing with silly husband sh**t in the years ahead.
I’m working harder still on childhood baggage and forgiving those who knew not what they were doing, as well as those who did. The journey is not for the faint of heart. But, while the clock ticks on, moment by moment, I am cheerfully optimistic that this whole “grace in aging” thing keeps its firm hold on me until my last breath. Slowly but surely, “Awakening” more as the years tick by…
and yes, there is bliss in that.
An excerpt from “Blessing in the Chaos” by Jan Richardson seems appropriate in the moment….
Let what distracts you cease.
Let what divides you cease.
Let there come an end to what diminishes and demeans.
And let depart all that keeps you in its cage.