by Ronnie Bennett
Unpacking and settling into a new home is an excellent time for contemplation. The work is relatively mindless and the physical activity keeps blood flowing to the brain.
One of the topics taking up space in there has been fear of aging. It is bred into us from cradle and is responsible for ageism and and age discrimination in all their forms, for people lying about their age, for 30-year-olds believing they are over the hill and for the billions of dollars wasted on Botox and cosmetic surgery.
It doesn't matter how many ways you try to deny your age or how much money you spend on nips and tucks and potions and creams, you will get old and if you live long enough, you will look your age.
All that denial is not really about getting old; it's about being reminded that we will die. A healthy fear of death is good; it keeps us from doing stupid things that might kill us before our time. But we – western culture – have gone way too far in pretending that death doesn't exist, depriving ourselves of the conscious experience of getting old.
Because of keeping this blog, I probably spend more time than many people thinking about what getting old is really like. We have often discussed here how we are happy to leave behind the concern for our appearance that took up so much time and effort in our youth. We like the patience and tolerance we have gained, the diminished need to always be right and I especially appreciate my new-found ability to let it go, when I've been thwarted in a goal, without the drama I created about it when I was young and even middle-aged.
Continue Reading
No comments:
Post a Comment