That’s My Power Source

It stood out like a beacon, one silver hair on top of my little boys head.  I stroked his dark locks away from it, surprised, and murmured “Bodhi, you have a silver hair!”

Quick as a flash he pulled away “Well don’t pull it out!” he gasped “that’s my power source!!”

I’m getting some power sources of my own lately. They sprout, my husband tells me, from the very top of my head, shying away from anywhere I can spot them. Clever of them, because I pluck them on sight.

“Don’t worry about them,” my husband reassures me lovingly “I like older women.” Sweet, if I weren’t younger than him.

But I’m wondering if they really are a power source of sorts.  I’ll soon be 32, which by my son’s standards is “really, really incredibly old.” By my parent’s standards it’s laughably young. By my standards it’s somewhere quite fabulous.

With aging comes apathy – about the things that used to seem such a huge deal in the past. I find myself less bothered by the ‘what ifs’, the maybe’s, the shoulds or shouldn’ts. I’m less held back by my self-imposed rules. That apathy is a little bit awesome.

With aging comes perspective – which simplifies complex things and gives the wisdom to question things that once seemed simple.  I love that. I love it when life poses questions for us, and we run with them, enjoying a meaty debate with ourselves as we wonder for the sake of wondering and question because we learn just by doing so.

With aging comes appreciation – of the things that have passed and of those we have now.  The ability to look back and realize how damn precious those moments were, those freedoms, those feelings, allows us to live them again in a way. It carves them deeper into our memories, gives them more texture in our reflections. And we get how fast it goes – these bits – the bits right now that seem daft or funny or easy or exhausting, and it reminds us to really grab onto them and squeeze every last drop out of them, because before we know it they’ll be memories and we want to be able to reflect back on them with all the richness they deserve.

With aging also comes a healthy shiver of fear – because I’m suddenly aware of the fleetingness of this time, when I’m still young enough to get away with things, so I’m pushed to enjoy the physicality of where I am just that little bit more.  To gain a little more pleasure from being in my skin.

It’s not that there’s anything more precious about the age I am than any other – but sometimes youth seems like an endless summer that we can laze through because nothing changes. Aging is that first hint of crisp autumn air that reminds us to suck up every ray of sun.

So even as my hand twitches towards the tweezers, I feel more than a little bit fortunate for my silver power sources, they bring much power indeed.

A Story of Two

This is a story of two. An older one, and a younger one.

The older one was wise, kind and full of knowledge. The younger one loved her very much, and looked up to her.

As the younger one grew she followed the older ones wisdom, was blessed with her gifts of kindness and relied much on her knowledge.

There were times when the younger one doubted her own inner voice, or quietened it against the older ones’, because she trusted so much in that wisdom and knowledge. She would hesitate as the older one did, mirror her fears and pause with her doubts.

The younger one explored the world, laughed much and grew her own wisdom with every passing day. But still she looked up to the older one so very much, always believing the older ones’ wisdom to be more than her own, her inner voice to be more versed in the insights she needed.

The older one frequently shared gifts of things or ideas. They were plentiful and precious, and perhaps this was why the younger one almost missed it.

Then one day, the younger one stumbled across a gift she had been given. Oh it was grand, so grand that it couldn’t be touched or seen. It was wrapped in time.

You see over the years the older one had given the younger one much of herself; she had given her much of her perfection and joy, much of her wisdom and knowledge, much of her advice and her thoughts. But she had also presented her with something else, the gift that the younger one almost hadn’t recognized the value of. She had given her her flaws.

She hadn’t hidden them, for honestly was important to the older one, they had always been there, scattered amoungst the rest, but the younger one had not yet come into her own wisdom, so had missed them, and seen instead her own flaws in their place. She had worried over them, and wished them gone.

But this day, the younger one saw just how precious the older ones flaws were. They were like facets of a diamond that all came together to make the older one sparkle just the right away.

Those flaws were how the older one gifted her things that she couldn’t offer with words or advice.

They contained reassurance; because if she could love the older one so with all her glorious flaws then surely she could be loved with her own. And the younger one relaxed.

They contained a mirror; for it is so much easier to see in others that which we would improve in ourselves. And the younger one became hungrier for her own greatness.

They contained madness; because without it we are never pushed to new ways of thinking, of feeling, of experimenting. And the younger one’s mind expanded.

They contained vulnerability; reminding her the importance of being soft with her strength. And the younger one gave every morsel of this to her own little ones.

And they contained confidence; in her own inner voice, which she had put second because she had thought it unworthy. These perfect flaws had reminded her to embrace her own intuition with every ounce of her being and never second guess it just because she was not perfect.

So it was with this gift that the younger one grew up, just that little more, into someone worthy of being somebody else’s older one, to be wise, kind and full of knowledge. And she hoped so very much that she could give her little ones the same special gift as they grew, and that they too would take such pleasure in unwrapping it when they were ready.