It seems like once we turn 50, we realize that we’re on the back side of the hill and if there’s anything we want to get really good at, we’d better start practicing— like now. Most people choose a pastime that will weather the years: like golf, fishing or yoga. Something they will still be able to do when they’re as old as a presidential candidate.
My husband chose golf, which is fine by me because what do I care if he wants to spend his days outside chasing a metaphor for life? And without really trying, I am learning the lingo — birdie this, bogey that. In many ways, golf seems like a good way to get to the heart of someone rather quickly. For instance, you play with others, but the score is only for you, and watching how a golfer handles the ups and downs (i.e. the sand traps or water hazards) often reveals how s/he handles obstacles in real life.
I keep saying I’ll take a lesson one of these summers, but I’m not sure it’s my bag. I don’t fish, and I haven’t been to a yoga class in years — not since my friend Hillary and I attended a Bikram class in Basalt. Man, it was hot in there, and the other yogis kept having to get out of position and move their mats farther away to avoid the smell of vodka and cigarettes we were sweating out from the night before.
Anyway, in my middle-aged years I’ve taken up meditation and, if I do say so myself, I’m getting quite good at it. Of course, that probably means I’m not doing it right, considering that actual mindful practice leads right down the path to selflessness … I have had an epiphany though.
As soon as we’re born, we are headed for our own death and each day we’re alive brings us one more closer to the finish line. Mostly we go through our days avoiding thinking or talking about it, sometimes actively pushing it out of our minds when it does pop up.
But what if our approach to life is backwards? What if we were to flip the narrative and look back at all we have accomplished along the way as we careen around the corners towards the tape? We could view death (at the end of a long life) as the goal, and spend each day rejoicing at getting that much closer to our journey’s end.
I believe in a creative energy that thrives in all living things on this planet and I also believe the whole experience is about exploring our differences. Perspective changes with age (if it doesn’t, you may want to have that looked at) and middle age is all about letting things go and moving on, which comes with a couple of perks: patience and tolerance. The older we get, the more we can see both/all sides of an issue — unless we forget to take our sleep masks off, which these days is no joke when it comes to getting a good night’s sleep.
Perimenopause is like the fourth fairy godmother no one ever told us about — we’ll call her Pudge for short. Mysterious aches and pains, low energy and an even lower give-a-shit-factor, hot flashes, mood swings, the list goes on and on … I picture this tired fairy with frizzy hair and mustard stains, lounging in her cabin in the woods, just taking a minute to enjoy the peace and quiet. She reminds me that life is not just a track-and-field day with endless events for scoring and judging. Joy and leisure make a life worth living.
I’m not saying that we should take a nap this election year, just that every day doesn’t have to be a battle. If we don’t want to perpetuate bigotry and prejudice in the world, then it’s on us to listen to differing opinions. Humans have always had conflict, and always will. But if we stay open-minded to other points of view, we may realize we’re all just running an epic relay race — hopefully with enough time for a favorite pastime.
See, I told you I was getting the hang of this meditation thing.
Ps&Qs: Meditating with my fairy godmother
