We females of the elder tribe are often referred to as”women of a certain age”. What does this even mean? What are we supposed to be certain about? Did I miss something somewhere?
I find that I’m not certain about a lot of things these days. I’m not certain about where my body and face will end up as they morph into what seems to be a combination of my mother’s and father’s aging faces and bodies.
I’m not certain how far south my breasts will travel. I’m not certain if my lips will disappear altogether as they roll back into my mouth, or how much more decorated my face and body will become as they get increasingly adorned with lines, wrinkles, and spots.
I’m not certain about which hikes I can take until I research the location of restrooms along the way. (Is this what they mean by “golden years”?)
It’s so important to keep our sense of humor, yes?
I’m not certain about whether I’ve fulfilled my purpose thus far in my life or even whether I know what that purpose might be.
I’m uncertain about where I’ll end up living as I continue aging, which of my friends will be on this path with me, who may leave too soon, whether my mind will stay with me. So many questions, so much that we cannot know.
And yet, I realize that I have had lessons and experiences along the way that do help me become more certain about at least a few things.
I’m learning to let go of things that I cannot control. That list gets longer every day.
I’m learning about the power of kindness, the exquisiteness of silence in a forest, the deepening connection that I feel with the earth and its creatures, the comfort of touching a tree and feeling that touch to my core, the loveliness of random connections, the gift of a smile that can change the course of my day, the slowing down that elderhood can bring, the slowing that helps me look around me and see more deeply, the relief of forgiveness and letting go, the bittersweetness of loss and grieving that is a testament to the depth of love felt.
I am learning that I still feel hope, even in the darkest times, when I look into the faces of my neighbor’s babies. And I’m hopeful when I see examples of human kindness every day.
My memory may not be as sharp these days, my body may not have its youthful vigor, but my heart expands and my spirit grows ever deeper.
I’m grateful these days for each morning that I wake up, for each breath, for my life.
As an elder, with no children of my own, I am lucky enough to have wonderful young women in my life and I am in awe and proud of them all.
I have been privileged to work with young zookeepers at our local zoo, where I have volunteered with the elephants for the last 11 years.
I have watched these young people, mostly women (the wages are too low for most men to accept, sad to say, on so many counts). They are amazing. They work with a 15,000-pound creature, which is no small feat. They look tiny next to him, yet have loved him and taught him things, as he has taught them. They provide physical and emotional care. They love and they work hard, very hard.
They do what they must and do whatever it takes to provide care for these wonderful creatures. They put in extra hours as needed. They stay late. They lift, move, push, and shine.
What I want to say to them all.
What I want them to know (and do say to them) is…
I love your strength, your passion, your partnerships with each other, your power, your fearlessness.
You are so powerful, compassionate, and you give me hope for the future. You treat elephants with kindness, and you also treat me with kindness. I am not invisible to you, at least in many important ways.
You face such deep losses with courage and openness. We stand, hold each other and cry together as we prepare to lose the last of our herd at the zoo, who will soon be moved to a beautiful elephant sanctuary. There are no words necessary, just being together and understanding the pain of loss, the pain of love, the pain of letting go, and for you all this happening at such a young age.
You inspire me. You fill me with pride for women everywhere.
Role models everywhere.
I watch the young women newscasters on TV and am in awe of their courage, poise, ability to handle tough situations, and stand in their own power in what was such a male dominated field when I was growing up. I delight in thinking about all the young girls who get to see and hear these powerful role models.
I feel such respect as I go to our local coffeeshop and talk with the young family who owns this. The woman proudly displays photos of her service in the navy. Her pride in having this history is evident. And her children know how important that piece of her history is for her. This is who their mother has been and is.
I have many women doctors at this point. I am saddened by the pressure that they also feel to rush patients through (I belong to an HMO) and then end up not having enough time to bring their superpower, as women, to our time together. One superpower of many women is that of being able to be with me, hear me, listen to me, or sit with me in any pain that I might be in. I pray that things can change so that these young people (young men and women) can bring all of themselves into this important profession that deals with people at their most vulnerable.
And now, a woman running for president.
And I am lucky enough to be alive at a time when there is a woman running for president again. And the race is a close one.
I love watching young girls see her as a candidate and as being a strong woman. They get to watch both her husband, and her male vice-presidential candidate, support her. The role models that I didn’t get to see enough of are now available. I am grateful.
I worry about freedoms that generations before you fought hard to attain, seeing that these freedoms are now threatened.
I worry about the still apparent societal pressure and expectations of how you should look, what size you should be, how you should manage to do it all. It makes me sad that you sometimes don’t see how beautiful you are, each in your own unique way.
I see the battles still ahead. Among these are the battles to be heard and respected, not interrupted, and to be able to express your voice and have it be heard and seen as the important contribution that it is.
It all brings me to tears. I, as a daughter of immigrants, had a smaller space that I thought I could occupy in this world. There seemed to be fewer choices in line of work, and in life in general. And with parents coming from another country with different family ideals and values and expectations of women, I tried my best to figure out how to survive and not squash my voice completely. I realized over time that I had forgotten my own voice, being so busy trying to fit into what was mandated, expected, or allowed.
I don’t want any of that for you.
My hope and wish for you.
I want you to know your own spirit, your own passions, your own strength, your own voice. I want you to follow that and have the freedom to do that. I want you to have domain over your own bodies. I want you to stand together and not be divided and conquered. I want you to have yourself at the top of the list as to whom you should please.
I want you to be able to claim your strength, to be able to better discern who and what you may need in a relationship, to mother yourselves and each other. I want you to run free, wear what you want, dress as you please, and know that you are more than enough. You are valuable and wonderful and have every right to claim your space on this earth, in your world, and in the Universe. I want your biology to help raise you up, not to define you by things that you can or cannot do.
I want you to dance your own dance and to be able to dance even if you don’t have a partner. If you find a partner, I want you to be happy, loved, respected, nourished and cherished, as I would hope that you can do for each other.
And if you are not partnered, I want you to know that you are perfectly ok as you are, by yourself. You can build a community around you, have family and loving friends, and you are no less because you are single. It’s ok. You are ok. You are more than ok. Of course, I wish you love and a partner of quality, but more than that I want you to know that your primary partner is yourself. You are at the top of the list of whom you need to pay attention to and take care of and love.
You don’t have to twist yourself into shapes and sizes and values that do not fit you. You can be all that you were born to be. You can be your magnificent self. I may not be able to see where you end up and all that you will do, but I am cheering you on every step of the way. You inspire me. And if I can stand with you from beyond, know that I will be there right beside you, with love.
I'm Not Dead Yet! 