A Gift... Commentary on Getting Old - Author Unknown

Again I received via email the following article. Author unknown.


"A Gift.....

The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old.

I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old.

Upon seeing my reaction, he was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let him know.

Growing Older, I decided, is a gift.

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be.

Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body .. the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the cellulite.

And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror, but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly.

As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself.

I've become my own friend.

I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avant-garde on my patio. I am entitled to be messy, to be extravagant, to smell the flowers.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon, before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 a.m and then sleep until -- ?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 50's & 60's, (and 70's)and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love...

I will walk the beach in a swim suit (not in Speedo!) that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the bikini set.

They, too, will get old, if they're lucky!

I know I am sometimes forgetful.

But then again, some of life is just as well forgotten and I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken.

How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion.

A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect. I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face.

So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver (or none at all!).

I can say "no," and mean it.

I can say "yes." and mean it.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive.

You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore.

I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being older.

It has set me free.

I like the person I have become.

I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day.. (if I want).

Today,

I wish you a day of ordinary miracles.

Love simply.

Love generously.

Care deeply

Speak kindly.

Then leave the rest to God."


"TO BE WITHOUT THE THINGS YOU WANT IS AN INDESPENSABLE PART OF HAPPINESS !"

Another great article (while we are dwelling on being and getting old) is an article by William Spencer, entitled: "An Unexpected Gift". Here's an excerpt:

"After agreeing I won't wait another 28 years to return, I say farewell to the family. M. Vignault drives me in his small car to the nearby town where I'm staying. Before going to sleep, I describe the events and feelings of the day in my diary. Suddenly, as I write, I am overcome by a wave of utter, desolate sadness. Sadness at the passage of time. Sadness at how old my good-hearted hosts have become. Sadness at the passage of so many years of my own life. Sadness to find myself 50. I weep and weep, unable to continue writing. Where did all that time go? How is it possible for me to be cycling down the same roads, perhaps a third of my life gone by, yet my inner sense of self not one jot older? Why am I no longer the 23-year-old on his bicycle, headed for India? How does this happen?"

To read more, click here or the title above.

For more inspring articles by Seishindo, click here.