I am one of the lucky ones that age slower than your average human being (Thanks, Mom – and your genes). Despite this, as I’ve entered my 40s, I’ve noticed that certain body parts aren’t well, as firm.
I’m vain, but not so much so I’d go under the knife to alter what’s happening. I may be more accepting about the aging process if the gritty details of aging – sagging muscles, age lines actually served a purpose.
Some of you may argue – well, it has a purpose; it’s the slow decomposition of our bodies.
Duh! I’m alive and feeling vibrant. I’d like those decomposing details to DO something. Am I asking too much of human evolution?
What do I mean by DO something?
- Well, what if our smile lines and crows feet acted as new additional receptors for our memories, or better yet, increased our intuitive knowing?
- What if our gluteus maximus remembered to support us – literally! This is an issue that is REAL – our butt loses muscle memory as we age. But what if it did actually do one better than remember to support us structurally – and actually sent us encouraging voice-messages to our brain when we stuck to a work out schedule, or showed support to others?
- What if our ‘chicken wing’ arm flab could be voice-activated to ‘turbo slap’ an approaching assailant?
I think that commercial media as usual, simplifies our wants. Yes, looking youthful is aesthetically appealing, but maybe we just don’t want aesthetics, maybe we want more purpose, too. So, yes, the points above ask for too much, but remind me that while looking lovely is nice, living with more purpose, multi-purposes is most important to me.
It’s been many years,
and it kept getting bigger,
that grudge stone.
It feels like it won’t
that grudge stone.
Till one day,
you decide to rid
yourself of it.
So, you manage to budge
Do you judge your
do you hurl
s h a t t e r i n g
that glass house you live in?
What happened when you budged
that grudge, that stone,
that grudge stone?
to which I report.
emotional, and spiritual
allegiance to gladly.
On this sacred Earth,
within this wondrous Universe,
I devote myself to thee.
Oh, wait, maybe Depression?
No, the first two
don’t get to hang out long
enough to become the third guest.
I see you moping behind my gray matter,
peeking a curious glance at my soul.
Hoping to stay for longer than a cup of tea,
or glass of wine.
You want to be acknowledged. I don’t mind.
Embraced and even accepted, that’s fine, too.
But, oh, you dark sexy Melancholy and sweet Sadness,
you don’t get to feast with me for weeks, or
eat out of my fridge.
You don’t get to dance to drumbeats in my head every other day,
or fuck me over again.
This time around,
you are temporary guests.
I’ve already given you my best.
Recently, I had the joy of caring for a newborn loved one, my niece. This was also a short adventure in parenting in which I gained a new appreciation for parents, babies and how families survive the parenting process. It’s all a miracle how any of the family unit stays together without committing crimes of insanity or stupidity from lack of sleep.
A newborn baby will not easily fall asleep if it hasn’t burped, because you know, gas happens. We adults know to take a Tums and or, get some peppermint tea and we’re good. My newborn niece doesn’t have these options. Parents, and or yours truly, must burp her for R-E-L-I-E-F. Not just her relief, but for everyone in earshot and desiring sleep. A gassy infant is a cute, but pained and noisy tiny human.
Parents are sleep deprived and they are lying if they say otherwise. Despite earplugs, I would wake to my beautiful niece crying loudly to tell us she was hungry, or wet, or both. Sometimes, she may be just whining. I’d wait a few minutes to make sure it wasn’t the former. She would typically go back to sleep after such noises. But really, I couldn’t stand much longer than five minutes of either because I’d think – “What if it’s really serious and what if her parents were too exhausted to hear her?!”
So, I’d go check on her and for at least half the nights visiting my family. I’d either begin/finish a changing or a feeding. I had some nights where I didn’t wake up. I felt so bad. What if no one heard her at her feeding time that night? Such guilt – and I’m not her mother! Madness, I tell you. Parental instincts seem to wake moms and dads.
There are other ways nature/God intervenes so sleep deprived parents don’t accidentally kill or misplace their child. Here’s some examples for why I believe this:
- I am a conversationalist. After a few nights of sleep deprivation I had no desire to talk. This was in part, because my ability to put a sentence together was declining rapidly. How do parents communicate over the longterm successfully?
- My memory was going to crap because of no sleep. How do parents remember if they picked their other child up at school, and if they really did commit to $1000s in organic baby formula?
- There MUST be something naturally induced in the human body that prevents feelings of going to a 24-hour party where you don’t recall having fun, you woke hungover and then you survive getting run over. My body and mind felt like this after three days of little sleep.
- I now know parents may be soothed by their baby’s scent. It ironically disappears before the child is potty-trained, so my sister says. My niece smells like a mix of baked goods and candy. I get why my sister or her husband don’t get angry or frustrated from 3 hours of sleep after a whiff from the top of her head. I also get why you hear parents say, “I could just eat you up!” It’s not a desire to pursue cannibalism. Their kid just smells like a bakery and and candy store.This fragrance creates some happy or relaxing feelings. Nice. A baby high. Side note – this smell DOES NOT cancel out/reduce a full-poopy-diaper smell. God/Mother Nature – you need to work on this.
To parents everywhere whose kids have made it to age five and are happy and healthy – you amaze me. Keep up the good work.
I have small piles of what some may call disorganization, or a “MESS.” But really, they’re a reminder of things I need to take care of next. They are physical, tangible messages in my home and office. Some people will say everything should have a place of storage that works for you. Well, I do. Still, for certain projects, once out of sight, are no longer in mind. From books I want to read, to events I want to attend, to topics I want to write about and or, food I want to buy on sale, I have a little “to do” pile that awaits my attention. It remains a “mess” until I act on it. They may repeat throughout my life. They are MESSages to get on task.
The same holds true for the MESS of history that is repeating itself in all our lives for a reason – the tragedies that swept Dallas, Nice, Louisiana and the ridiculous political circus this year, are just a few examples. These are all issues we’ve not as a collective whole properly or ethically addressed in the past. So, it regurgitates itself in our society into a MESS we need to pay attention to, act on and clean up – together. It’s a MESSage from God, the Universe or whatever you hold as your spiritual truth, that it’s time to stop blaming, holding onto grudges, and our self-righteousness. It’s time to hold the accountable accountable, collaborate and move forward, with forthright calm, faith and courage.
Did you get the MESSage?
Are we getting comfy with our ego’s –
If so, I invite you to come in and get uncomfortable with me in –
It’s not too late to relate, act and collaborate.
let’s leave our egos and shoes at the door.