The Passion of Age

Sexuality, rage, aliveness…. all still so much a part of me

I am now in the land of elderhood. I didn’t know what it would be like. It’s different than I imagined.

I didn’t know that I would keep all the younger versions of me still inside, still feeling, still reacting, still loving, still alive.

I am the child filled with wonder and awe. I can stare up at the crowns of redwoods forever, gaze into the eyes of an animal and see their soul, watch a sunset and feel the sacredness of that moment. 

I remember the delights of youth, the excitement, the playfulness, and the passion.

Ah, passion.

No one told me that the passion would still be with me, that in some ways it seems to grow in depth and richness. No one told me that my body can still shiver from the whisper of a breeze, the nuzzle of a furry friend, the gentle touch of a friend on my shoulder, and the gaze of someone who I feel attracted to. What? Is that still there? Really?

Indeed it is there…ripe, succulent, delicious to feel inside. I feel the color of it, the heat of it, the vibration and trembling of it. No one else may see it, but that doesn’t have to mean that I don’t see it, feel it, appreciate it. If I happen to find someone to share this with, as we both acknowledge this, that’s great. If I don’t, that’s ok. It’s still there to be experienced, felt, and cherished.

I hear the whispering of the wind through the trees, as I feel my own skin reacting and shivering in response. 

I delight in the connection of eye contact with another being, often 4-legged these days, as we see each other in ways that are beyond words. I smile as they delight in a belly rub or ear scratch, delight in their response to my touch, their licks on my face. their tail wagging in excitement. 

I enjoy the warm embrace of another human as we drop our masks in that moment and allow touch to cross boundaries, feeling the physical presence of each other.

I honor the sensuality within me. I enjoy long showers where I treat my skin and body with care and love, soft pillows and sheets that I can nestle into at the end of a day (or whenever needed), standing with my back to the fireplace getting “toasty buns” and how delicious that warmth can feel in the chill of a morning or evening. I smile at a cup of hot chocolate (with marshmallows sometimes) and the sensual comfort that this can bring. I honor the feel of a tree, its branches and leaves as I place my hands on it. I feel the sun on my face, the wind blowing through my hair.

 I notice the trembling I feel inside at the kind touch of a stranger on my shoulder when they relate to something that I may have shared, the warmth I feel when reading someone’s response to my writing and their vulnerable sharing of what it touched in them. 

When I volunteer at the zoo, I marvel at the touch of a child coming up to me and feeling comfortable as if they know me, leaning into me as we both watch the animals.

I also feel the aliveness of the pain of loss that goes directly to my heart, feeling the essence of who I may have lost, the feel of their spirit still within me, the ache in my heart where they will now permanently live. 

I feel the loss of friends and loved ones that comes ever more frequently on this aging path, as well as the pain of trying to contain the sense of my own mortality and expiration date. This makes me honor the preciousness of each moment so much more and want to taste it fully, drink it in, feel it in all its forms.

I watch and hear injustice and cruelty that I see around us at times, especially lately in our political environment, the selfishness and complete lack of empathy and compassion, the pain of human inflicted suffering, the cruelty of war and sending our young to fight the battles of the old safe politicians. I feel the fire of the rage and pain within me.

I recently was delighted at hearing a stranger’s comment passing by as I walked in my favorite redwood park. The younger woman of the two felt compelled to say that she had a feeling when I walked by her that God had told her to let me know that He’s got you. I don’t identify as particularly religious, but I heard the feeling and intention beneath what she said and took comfort in that. Then the older woman talked about having left broken eggshells at one of her favorite trees to symbolize her broken parts. She said that she was giving it to the Universe to heal, letting go, allowing herself to be more than those broken pieces. How eloquent and beautiful her ritual sounded. All this was shared with two women I had never met, a deep connection in a random moment. I felt the Universe/God speaking to me, letting me feel heard, seen, and loved. Later, I could feel the depth of my tears and where they came from, taste their saltiness, allow the release from deep within. 

Recently I inhaled the scent of a lilac. This was a special gift for me, after having lost almost all of my sense of smell due to some sinus surgery decades ago. There was joy in that moment of being able to inhale that heavenly scent, the flower gifted to me from my sweet young neighbor…just because.

I hear the music of birds and its melody touches me, helps me to stop and listen. What else can I hear in that moment? I am reminded to slow down, pay attention, listen with all of you, all of your passion. 

We heal mentally, spiritually, and physically with our sensuality and all of our senses. We become one with whatever we are experiencing. We become lovers to the tree, the flower, the earth itself. We are entwined and soak each other in, connect and are together, separate yet one. 

May we feel this all. Becoming an elder can bring a new depth to our passion, if we tune in, and a new awareness of how precious each breath, each sense, each moment is. Do we lose this as we age? I think it’s rather the opposite. We feel it more, we contain years of it and how it changes forms and textures, and we can soak ourselves in this. 

May we feel spent at the end, having lived fully, passionately, vibrantly, messily, joyfully, embracing each moment with every fiber of our being.