Hey, Homie!

1908385_832879046722277_7779231344831990723_nHow can I not LOVE this?

Buddha don’t lie.

What do I need to let go?  I guarantee everyone reading this has a list as long as their arm, or longer, right? Some things we know don’t serve us, know we have to drop or we’re doomed and yet….what keeps us there? Complacency? Fear? Defeat? all of the above?

I am becoming more and more aware of the stories that I tell myself, have told myself my whole life. I believe certain things about myself and so it follows that they must be true. Here’s a few….

Old,Fat, Alone, Un-important, Failure,…c’mon, it goes on and on. But like I said above, these are STORIES that I tell myself, have made my own, my truth. And I have luckily been aware of that concept for a while now. I’ve learned it in practice, in meditation, in yoga, in 12 step groups, in communion with others who are like-minded and want to change those tapes. And , while I wrote them there, and while they still rear their ugly heads occasionally, they are not as pervasive, the tapes are changing, erasing, and I  see huge changes  happening, real growth.

Except for the age thing. That one gets me. That’s where I am yelling at homie, COME ON!  Aging scares me because it brings into focus all the old stories and gives them a reason’d’etre, if you will. I’m alone because I am old, I am invisible because I am old, my body is ugly because I am old, I’ve accomplished so little for my age….I’m gonna stop now because you get the idea and I’m getting depressed.

There are certain things that people can’t just explain to anyone else; what grief feels  like, what love is. Big things. I never understood what my parents and their friends said to me about growing older, but I do now. In my head I haven’t changed, I feel no different than I did at say, 30. But I’m not 30, and while I may feel that age I have to fight my body and gravity and other’s opinions all the time. And it’s a losing battle, I know it. Inevitably the body fails, this corpse I wear, and soon enough I will be a real corpse.

You know, I am not afraid of dying.  I have this conversation a lot; the fact that I am heading toward an inevitable death is energising to me now. I  have some time left here (a day, a week, a year, who knows?) and I intend to enjoy it as best I can. I’m not crazy about imagining HOW I might die, because the how is often unpleasant. I’m also not at all a fan of the idea of others, people who I love, dying. I believe they will be ok, but those of us left behind, that inevitable grief? Not a fan of that. The fact.of my own death however, no problem. It’s inevitable anI I believe the doorway to another plane to explore and, eventually, another life and more karmic work.

In the meantime I have to let this shit go, this angst over aging. I’m trying. I do my yoga, I write and read and explore new things, new ideas. I try and say YES to life as much as possible.I have fascinating friends who do remarkable things and I get to learn from them. I am blessed with dear friends who are more than several years older than me, and many who are more than several years younger. I look at my older friends and understand how my  relative youth has to be a comfort to them and am so glad that I have cultivated younger friends in the same way….we all keep each other young and also aware of the continuum of life and love and loss.

I have been calling myself old a lot lately, and allowing it to cover a host of maladies. I’ve been getting yelled at too, told to STOP IT!  It’s time to let it go and accept. I am who I am right now; glorious, happy, full of life, a perfect being having this particular body experience in this moment.

I’m gonna focus on that homie!




Add yours →

  1. One of the amazing things about blogs is that we are ‘formless’ here. No physical bodies to inhibit us: our words are what defines us. And, Michele, your words are full of strength and spirit. Bea x

  2. Bhudda wisdom at it’s best!

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