Let us never know what old age is.
Let us know the happiness that time brings,
not count the years.
Today on my birthday I am thinking about how much happiness time has brought into my life. Here I am, sixty-one years old. I have lived a life that has had ups and downs and, although I know it sounds trite, I am as thankful for the downs as I am for the ups, because it is through the difficult times that I learned the most important lessons.
I have eased into my 60s and have embraced the changes. My hair, silver-gray, my waist, rounder and softer, my face more lined. Emotionally I feel softer as well, more even-keeled, less judgmental, slower to anger or become frustrated. I am patient, less likely to try to force the outcome I want and instead willing to wait, to trust in the timing of the universe. My heart is opening to the inevitable changes that growing older brings, loosening my grip, allowing relationships to wax and wane, being kinder to myself. Self-forgiveness, self-acceptance, self-love: these three things have always been difficult for me and I am trying to embrace my self, just as I am.
It seems that one never stops growing and learning, doesn’t it?
Counting my blessings.
My family, my pup, continued good health, friendships (old and new), community, camaraderie. Books, music, art. Teachers and mentors. Nature: trees, flowers, sunshine, rain. Birdsong. The essence of water and what it teaches me about living. Darkness and light, the stillness of night. Roof over our heads, fresh food on our table. Quiet mind, busy hands. Grateful spirit, tender heart, sensitive soul.