Age Ain't Nothin' But a Number!
It's that time of the year again.
It's March, the month that is known to come in like a lion, or lamb or whatever, only to go out the opposite way. People in cold-weather climates start to ponder what the sun must feel like after several months of overcast skies and winter doldrums. Sometimes, if they are lucky, they will even get to see many of the first signs of spring during the month of March. The mere sight of a tulip popping through the soil, or maybe even the sight of grass once its persistently white winter cover has melted, is enough to send hearts aflutter. Having grown up in western NY state, these were the moments I would cling to right about now. Spring was coming. The days were getting longer. There was no way the cold darkness would last. Hallelulia! Hope springs eternal this time of year. Yet for all of this, March was always even more special than that. At least for me.
It is my birthday month.
Yes, I said birthday month. Why should I limit it to just one day? I have always loved my birthday. I guess most people are in one camp or another on this one, but I have always treasured the day I made my grand entrance. When I was growing up, it was (of course) all about the attention and the gifts. It was like the second-coming of Christmas. What's not to love?
As I have gotten older, birthdays keep taking on different connotations. Sure, there are some gifts still. Yes, people wish you a happy day, and that is sweet and wonderful and all. But its significance is something greater than that. My birthday is a splendid time to reflect, to gauge my progress on this journey of life. And the numbers just keep getting bigger. This year will be 38, whatever the heck that means. Oh, and doesn't each passing year seem to consist of fewer and fewer days? I swear this year there were only about 300.
Time is marching on. I see it in so many subtle ways. I can see it in the gray whiskers that show up in my beard now. You know, the very ones that I sometimes try to pluck out, even though I tell myself that I am totally fine with getting older and all that comes along with it. Or the little hairs that seem to sprout from my ears and nose like unwanted weeds. Sometimes I will go days without realizing that a hair the size of my pinkie finger is waving in the breeze....from my ear lobe. Pluck. Why didn't someone tell me it was there? I imagine that the hair on my head would have a few grays by now, if only I had hair up there. For some reason unbeknownst to me, it was easier to shave my head bald at age 31 than it is to see some wayward hairs at 38. Go figure.
And of course, there are the wrinkles. I always tell myself that it doesn't bother me to see laugh lines showing up over the years. Hey, at least I have been smiling alot in this life, right? I tell myself it is all just a part of the process, but sometimes I notice it more than others. For instance, if I don't get enough sleep for a few nights in a row, I can see bags under my eyes for days. I just can't hide being tired the way I used to.
The other day, we celebrated Starbucks' 40-year anniversary at work. A huge golden '4-0' balloon hung near the door, with other green and white balloons scattered throughout the store. Clearly we were celebrating something, though to many people it was still cryptic. Then, something terrible happened. A customer asked me if it was my birthday. A few minutes later, another one inquired the same thing. Whether they saw the '40' balloon or not, I went into orbit. Holy crap, I thought. Did I really look 40? I mean, I know I have been tired lately, but come on! And what the hell was wrong with these people anyway, asking such a rude question? I felt the steam coming out of my ears, blowing some of the little aforementioned hairs along with it.
I found myself starting to explain to all of the customers that it was our 40th anniversary, even before they would ask what was going on. I had to head them off at the pass before another person asked if we were actually celebrating my birthday. Eventually I took notice of my defensive behavior, and after about an hour had passed, started to chuckle inside at the absurdity of the whole thing. If Starbucks had birthday balloons hanging all over the store for little ol' me, wouldn't that actually have been a sweet gesture? Besides, who cared if anyone thought I was turning 40? Well, I guess I did. In fact, probably the only person that really cared about the number was me. Whoa, boy.
None of us can stop father time from working his magic. Fact is, I don't really have any desire to. I often say that life gets better and better with each passing day. It keeps chugging along more merrily all the time. The more I learn about myself, the more comfortable I am in my own skin, the easier things appear to get. The less I care about the surface of this shell called my body, the happier I seem to be. I know I am not my body. Or do I? This idea always seems to make total sense to me, at least until I see another new sign of wear and tear present itself. An ache here, a freckle there.... the initial discoveries can still send me into a (temporary) orbit.
Regardless, I gain more clarity each year. I still love March 18 as much as I did when I was a child. Now though, my birthday is just another day in which I can choose to celebrate life. Learning how to love and care for myself has helped me to accept alot of the quirks of aging. If I can love my bald head, I can most definitely love a gray whisker or two, right? Really, now. I see dogs with graying beards and think that they look adorable and distinguished. They earned those grays, I tell myself. Why should I see myself any differently? It can't be a badge of honor for them without being one for me, too.
Anyways, its what goes on inside of me that is of the utmost importance. All roads lead back to that simple fact. At almost 38, I am the happiest I have ever been. I am learning to honestly accept who I am, more so each day. I look into the mirror and see all of the physical changes taking place, but am now guided to look into my own eyes to see the truth. When I do this, I see myself in ways I could never have dreamed of during my younger years. I see the beauty of getting older and wiser, the pleasure of staying open to life. I see the me that is ageless.
I am continually learning to let go and just enjoy the ride. In a couple of days, that ride will include an overseas trip to places I have never seen, and only dreamed about visiting. That's really what its all about, isn't it? I must stretch myself. Take chances. Live, laugh, and love. Do it now. Don't waste a second, and always be grateful. Keep growing. Accept the changes, all of them, with a wide open heart.
Age really ain't nothin' but a number. The only meaning it has is the one I give it, like everything else in life.
That being said, I am packing the tweezers in my suitcase as I speak. You know, just in case.
It's March, the month that is known to come in like a lion, or lamb or whatever, only to go out the opposite way. People in cold-weather climates start to ponder what the sun must feel like after several months of overcast skies and winter doldrums. Sometimes, if they are lucky, they will even get to see many of the first signs of spring during the month of March. The mere sight of a tulip popping through the soil, or maybe even the sight of grass once its persistently white winter cover has melted, is enough to send hearts aflutter. Having grown up in western NY state, these were the moments I would cling to right about now. Spring was coming. The days were getting longer. There was no way the cold darkness would last. Hallelulia! Hope springs eternal this time of year. Yet for all of this, March was always even more special than that. At least for me.
It is my birthday month.
Yes, I said birthday month. Why should I limit it to just one day? I have always loved my birthday. I guess most people are in one camp or another on this one, but I have always treasured the day I made my grand entrance. When I was growing up, it was (of course) all about the attention and the gifts. It was like the second-coming of Christmas. What's not to love?
As I have gotten older, birthdays keep taking on different connotations. Sure, there are some gifts still. Yes, people wish you a happy day, and that is sweet and wonderful and all. But its significance is something greater than that. My birthday is a splendid time to reflect, to gauge my progress on this journey of life. And the numbers just keep getting bigger. This year will be 38, whatever the heck that means. Oh, and doesn't each passing year seem to consist of fewer and fewer days? I swear this year there were only about 300.
Time is marching on. I see it in so many subtle ways. I can see it in the gray whiskers that show up in my beard now. You know, the very ones that I sometimes try to pluck out, even though I tell myself that I am totally fine with getting older and all that comes along with it. Or the little hairs that seem to sprout from my ears and nose like unwanted weeds. Sometimes I will go days without realizing that a hair the size of my pinkie finger is waving in the breeze....from my ear lobe. Pluck. Why didn't someone tell me it was there? I imagine that the hair on my head would have a few grays by now, if only I had hair up there. For some reason unbeknownst to me, it was easier to shave my head bald at age 31 than it is to see some wayward hairs at 38. Go figure.
And of course, there are the wrinkles. I always tell myself that it doesn't bother me to see laugh lines showing up over the years. Hey, at least I have been smiling alot in this life, right? I tell myself it is all just a part of the process, but sometimes I notice it more than others. For instance, if I don't get enough sleep for a few nights in a row, I can see bags under my eyes for days. I just can't hide being tired the way I used to.
The other day, we celebrated Starbucks' 40-year anniversary at work. A huge golden '4-0' balloon hung near the door, with other green and white balloons scattered throughout the store. Clearly we were celebrating something, though to many people it was still cryptic. Then, something terrible happened. A customer asked me if it was my birthday. A few minutes later, another one inquired the same thing. Whether they saw the '40' balloon or not, I went into orbit. Holy crap, I thought. Did I really look 40? I mean, I know I have been tired lately, but come on! And what the hell was wrong with these people anyway, asking such a rude question? I felt the steam coming out of my ears, blowing some of the little aforementioned hairs along with it.
I found myself starting to explain to all of the customers that it was our 40th anniversary, even before they would ask what was going on. I had to head them off at the pass before another person asked if we were actually celebrating my birthday. Eventually I took notice of my defensive behavior, and after about an hour had passed, started to chuckle inside at the absurdity of the whole thing. If Starbucks had birthday balloons hanging all over the store for little ol' me, wouldn't that actually have been a sweet gesture? Besides, who cared if anyone thought I was turning 40? Well, I guess I did. In fact, probably the only person that really cared about the number was me. Whoa, boy.
None of us can stop father time from working his magic. Fact is, I don't really have any desire to. I often say that life gets better and better with each passing day. It keeps chugging along more merrily all the time. The more I learn about myself, the more comfortable I am in my own skin, the easier things appear to get. The less I care about the surface of this shell called my body, the happier I seem to be. I know I am not my body. Or do I? This idea always seems to make total sense to me, at least until I see another new sign of wear and tear present itself. An ache here, a freckle there.... the initial discoveries can still send me into a (temporary) orbit.
Regardless, I gain more clarity each year. I still love March 18 as much as I did when I was a child. Now though, my birthday is just another day in which I can choose to celebrate life. Learning how to love and care for myself has helped me to accept alot of the quirks of aging. If I can love my bald head, I can most definitely love a gray whisker or two, right? Really, now. I see dogs with graying beards and think that they look adorable and distinguished. They earned those grays, I tell myself. Why should I see myself any differently? It can't be a badge of honor for them without being one for me, too.
Anyways, its what goes on inside of me that is of the utmost importance. All roads lead back to that simple fact. At almost 38, I am the happiest I have ever been. I am learning to honestly accept who I am, more so each day. I look into the mirror and see all of the physical changes taking place, but am now guided to look into my own eyes to see the truth. When I do this, I see myself in ways I could never have dreamed of during my younger years. I see the beauty of getting older and wiser, the pleasure of staying open to life. I see the me that is ageless.
I am continually learning to let go and just enjoy the ride. In a couple of days, that ride will include an overseas trip to places I have never seen, and only dreamed about visiting. That's really what its all about, isn't it? I must stretch myself. Take chances. Live, laugh, and love. Do it now. Don't waste a second, and always be grateful. Keep growing. Accept the changes, all of them, with a wide open heart.
Age really ain't nothin' but a number. The only meaning it has is the one I give it, like everything else in life.
That being said, I am packing the tweezers in my suitcase as I speak. You know, just in case.
Comments
It isn't as though they thought you were in your mid fifties or so....hahaha...
I think everyone approaching 40 has this feeling at some moment....'oh my, I am getting old'.....
But in reality, it truly is a number.
And not only is it a number, but we are suppose to age....fine lines, gray hairs, muscle tone lessens....ect.....it is all part of the evolution of the body and time.
Imagine still looking like a little boy or having a baby face in an adult body.....it would not align....would it?
Enough of my ranting....lol....
Paul, you are beautiful inside and out and your spirit is forever young and full of life!
Your inner spirit shines through your eyes and it lights up a room every time you enter one.
Happy Birthday early Paul!
I love you!
xoxoxo