“In the beginning I was so young and such a stranger to myself I hardly existed.
I had to go out into the world and see it and hear it and react to it,
before I knew at all who I was,
what I wanted to be.”
~ from Upstream by Mary Oliver
Long long ago, in a far off land, a girl child was born.
She was me. And apparently I am her.
But then again, though I am everything like her, I am not at all similar to that long ago child.
So what is the continuum, the through-line in all of this? What is the ineffable something that makes each of us certain of who we are and what we’re about?
How does it all work?
Somehow we contain all our selves at every stage and every incarnation.
How can I so vividly remember the fizzy excitement of winning the Fraser Valley Record’s colouring contest as if it happened last week and simultaneously note that my own hands have been replaced with the same thin skin of my aged mother’s?
Then again, how could I possibly have thought that my mom was old in those years before she died?
She died at 63. I turned 59 today. This means I’m as old as she was when I thought she was ancient.
I want to scream at all those young kids who call me ma’am, “I’m in here! I’m trapped inside this body. I promise you that I’m way younger than the way you’re treating me.”
But who is the “I” that I refer to? And why do I assume she’d have a younger body?
Still, there is no doubt that the woman in the mirror does not match how I feel inside. I find it shocking to see the lines and sun damage. I realize most younger people won’t know what the hell I’m talking about. How can they? I inhabit a much different universe than the one that they are currently orbiting.
They won’t know until it’s too late, and then, they too, will be caught wondering why on earth that person is offering them their seat on the bus.
But there’s an upside (you knew I’d get there eventually, right?) The beauty is, that as my skin loosens, so, somehow does my soul. Perhaps the body erodes to give room for the soul to expand… because I feel it like an ease, like more and more I’m upheld by the vast ocean of life. I no longer feel the need to kick and push against it. Instead, it holds me, buoyant and infinite.
Is this faith?
There is a letting go that comes with each year that passes. A letting go of expectations; both of myself and of others. I am less ambitious, more content, quicker to laugh at the absurdity of it all, and yet, also faster to weep at all that is broken.
If I have learned anything on my time on this planet, it is this; life hangs by something equivalent to the wisp of a spider’s thread, so tenuous, so easily broken, so easily lost. But like a papery-thin poppy, life is not only fragile but also tenacious, able to bloom forth its crimson glory out of the harshest of conditions.
All I know is I am so grateful to be part of this crazy ride and to have such lovely friends along the way.
And as long as that thread holds, I’m content to dangle and spin like glitter in the wind.
We are stardust darlings. Let us help each other shine.
What a relate-able read. You so elegantly articulate what many mid-aged women are going though. Thank you, and happy birthday!
Thanks Leanne. Glad it resonated with you too. It’s nice to have such lovely company along the way.
Brilliant, “The beauty is, that as my skin loosens, so, somehow does my soul.”
My celebration of age is entitled, “Complain. Contemplate. Celebrate. I’m turning 60!” Yep, next week. So I am with you on the inside not matching the outside, but oh gosh I love where the inside has gotten me: happy with life!
I’m with you RoseMary. The loss of the outside is definitely worth the inner gains 💕
An amazing article, as always. This one really hit home for me today, so thank you again. I especially loved this: “There is a letting go that comes with each year that passes. A letting go of expectations; both of myself and of others. I am less ambitious, more content, quicker to laugh at the absurdity of it all, and yet, also faster to weep at all that is broken.”
I’m finding myself almost, but not quite, there with you. I feel like I’m teetering just on the edge of this letting go thing — still struggling with the expectations, especially of myself. I do find myself less ambitious and way less stressed out about things, but my fingers are still gripping the edge of the cliff and I’m not able to jump fully into this next phase. I can see the soft landing, but not sure why I’m hanging on so tight.
Your words were a good reminder of what’s awaiting me when I finally let go. Thank you.
Bless you Gwen. I think it of it as an ever-widening circle while our souls are expanding and taking more and more room. It’s like a reversal of roles, with our bodies taking less precedence as we let go of our physical existence and the soul becoming more dominant.
That being said, it often feels like a game of Snakes and Ladders. I’m almost smug (quelle surprise!) with how I’m feeling a loving detachment and then Bam!, down the snake I slide and I’m clinging to every thing I thought I’d let go of.
Such is the process…at least in my world.
Colleen
I love the weave of your writing.
I’m trying to write something clever, simple to say how your writing is so personal but I always relate to your writing personally. Thank you❤️
You know what I love Christie? How lives, like threads, are picked up from so many times and places. I love that we met in your lovely little Chapala. When I think of you, I always picture you in your beautiful and colourful home.
I love this essay so much
Colleen! In my experience, the art of life and living can be very fragile at times! “All I know is that things change. You can choose to adapt or resist.” As Darwin once said “Adapt or die.” Happy 59th my friend……..🎂
Blessings,
Mackenzie
Ah Mackenzie…I use that Darwin quote so much. Adapting to whatever is presented in life is the key, eh. Sending hugs your way.
Lovely, like the author…Happy Birthday!
Bless you and right back at you Kelly.
Colleen, would you believe I also won a coloring contest when I was 12? That was in Calgary, Alberta. I won a set of World Books, a set of Childcraft, and a double standing bookshelf to put them in. I just found my newspaper clipping the other day.
Oh, and my hands look like my mother’s. Actually, I think hers look better, lol.
Wow Carol. Clearly the Calgary colouring contest had a much bigger budget than the Mission City Record. You know, I can remember the thrill of winning but have no idea what I won. I’m pretty sure it was just recognition in the paper.
I love that we shared that big 12-year old moment in life.
And yes, the hands, I’m pretty sure my mom’s, in her final year, looked better than mine do now…
So poignant, ageless & perfect.
Thanks.
Thank you Taylore. I really appreciate your words.