Birthday Season

I’m Almost Fifty-Four

On June 21, I will begin my fifty-fifth year.

I don’t know why, but fifty-five feels significant.

Maybe it’s because I could legitimately move into a retirement community. That’s truly mind blowing. I also sort of love it.

I’ve been in a reflective emotional place all day. I piddled around the house until I’d rearranged two rooms. I needed a shift of energy and didn’t know it until it happened. It feels like a cool breeze blew in. I chuckled to myself that I’m living in every corner of this house these days. More and more it becomes more and more a reflection of its inhabitants.

I was thinking about the Richard Rohr book on the second half of life and how I read it before I turned fifty and I thought I understood it. Maybe I grasped the concepts of how life becomes more distilled, but I couldn’t feel them in my soul. My hunch is that in a year or two I’ll say the same thing about myself now—the things I think I understand now will have deepened by that time. That’s the trade off for living, I think. If we’re going to be here together, can we find a way to appreciate all the growing we get to do through relationship with each other? At some point in life, it becomes a privilege to continue to have experiences. Health becomes the first thing on our minds.

I’ve reached the age when my friends are starting to die. That feels weird. And it feels weird to think about how one day it will be my turn to go. That’s out of my hands. I only hope I get to stay as long as I can do some good in the world, in whatever way. It shall all be well. And it shall all be well. And all manner of things shall be well.

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I was going through some old notebooks today and found one full of lyrics and various entries. I found this, and it made me smile.

This Sacred Day #6

Noticing is an art and a thing to practice. I bent slightly at the waist, pleased with the looks of the climbing roses I spent so much time fretting over last year. It is April and the leaves are full. They are glossy like enamel in places, lustered in others. And I felt a presence, her presence, smiling down on me. I could feel her hand on my shoulder. Something tilted my head to the right sky. She told me, “Hello, beautiful daughter,” with the light she shone thought the clouds.

“Hello, beautiful Mama. Hello.”

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I hope this beautiful Autotelic community has a wonderful week.

Peace. Love.

Allison

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