As I go careening in slow motion towards my 75th birthday, I get your poem better than anything else this morning. Poems are the most direct form of communications with the aging mind. Thank you.
I REALLY felt the line "Aging is a long, drawn out experiment in being wrong about how you will live, who you will be". I've been thinking about this a lot as I'm full on in my 30s now-- growing up/getting older feels a lot more like letting go of the picture I had for my life and for the what the world would be like now, and imagining a new one. That is incredibly empowering and also pretty exhausting if I'm honest about it. Loved this poem, it was a moment I needed today.
As I get older, I become more able to say NO, to know what my body wants and needs and to shush the sounds of past voices telling me I don't deserve, don't need, shouldn't want. I am also learning to say YES: I do deserve. I do want. I do need. And I CAN have and do and experience and love and be good to myself.
And: the older I get, the more I notice change. What I thought was static is actually dynamic. What I felt would last forever was only a phase. Who I thought I was is more like a snapshot of a being in constant evolution, part of the natural world.
Thank you for sharing this gem Courtney! As I get older I appreciate the little things that I might have taken for granted when younger. Such as feeding a baby just this morning and noticing his four little fingers wrapped around my whole thumb—priceless!
Thank you for sharing your poem, Courtney. The last lines are especially wonderfulI-taking nothing for granted.
I remind myself of my humanity/vulnerability by saying, "I have 0 - 15 good years left. Anything after 80 is gravy." (Now "officially" a senior citizen:)
It makes it easier to prioritize time and energy and attention. (Who do I want to spend it with, and how?)
Glad to know I'm not the only one touching trees :)
I love this. Its an amazing thing when a writer knows how you are feeling better than your own brain. Thank you for words. I feel aging in my breath, in my mind, in what I want and my planning to make it happen.
Sorry, Courtney, but whatever you write or say, I will NEVER think of you as being debilitated in any way by aging: because I've never had a more irrepressible, energetic and brilliantly gifted student or friend! Of course, the traumatic effects of this repeated, hideous violence hit us as hard as any we've experienced. Yet, you are now, and will surely remain in the future, as a force of nature to uplift and inspire all those who know and love you. You may always count me as among them. DD
That even when you think the answer will be a hard 'no', ask anyway. You'd be surprised how many times you'll get an enthusiastic 'yes'.
A couple weeks ago I asked my neighbor if I could liberate the sidewalk tree in front of their house, which to me seemed sad from growing in the sidewalk with less than a foot of exposed soil extending in any direction from thier foot-and-a-half wide trunk. He gave the okay and within an hour I'd used prybar, sledge, and desire to remove a few square feet of concrete (permits be damned!) from Beech's foot. The very last piece of concrete was pressed tight up against Beech and when I pried it up, I removed a decent piece of bark. "I'm sorry!" I said out loud to this being that I hurt when my intention was only to help. I hugged Beech, scooped a barrow full of home-made compost and dumped many buckets of water on the exposed soil around her, then tucked her in with a good layer of mulch.
As I go careening in slow motion towards my 75th birthday, I get your poem better than anything else this morning. Poems are the most direct form of communications with the aging mind. Thank you.
Happy birthday!!!
I REALLY felt the line "Aging is a long, drawn out experiment in being wrong about how you will live, who you will be". I've been thinking about this a lot as I'm full on in my 30s now-- growing up/getting older feels a lot more like letting go of the picture I had for my life and for the what the world would be like now, and imagining a new one. That is incredibly empowering and also pretty exhausting if I'm honest about it. Loved this poem, it was a moment I needed today.
Lovely.
As I get older, I become more able to say NO, to know what my body wants and needs and to shush the sounds of past voices telling me I don't deserve, don't need, shouldn't want. I am also learning to say YES: I do deserve. I do want. I do need. And I CAN have and do and experience and love and be good to myself.
This feels painfully true:
I am worse than I thought
and also better.
Humanity, too.
And: the older I get, the more I notice change. What I thought was static is actually dynamic. What I felt would last forever was only a phase. Who I thought I was is more like a snapshot of a being in constant evolution, part of the natural world.
Thank you for sharing this gem Courtney! As I get older I appreciate the little things that I might have taken for granted when younger. Such as feeding a baby just this morning and noticing his four little fingers wrapped around my whole thumb—priceless!
Thank you for sharing your poem, Courtney. The last lines are especially wonderfulI-taking nothing for granted.
I remind myself of my humanity/vulnerability by saying, "I have 0 - 15 good years left. Anything after 80 is gravy." (Now "officially" a senior citizen:)
It makes it easier to prioritize time and energy and attention. (Who do I want to spend it with, and how?)
Glad to know I'm not the only one touching trees :)
I love this. Its an amazing thing when a writer knows how you are feeling better than your own brain. Thank you for words. I feel aging in my breath, in my mind, in what I want and my planning to make it happen.
Now Im off to touch some trees.
how important spring is
the joy in bird song
how much love I have for those I do not know
how much love hurts
Gorgeous. And it sends us off with such a difficult and worthy directive:
and try not to let any of it
tragic or tender
feel inevitable.
I'VE NEVER BEEN THIS OLD BEFORE
5/21
I’ve never been this old before, so it’s no surprise that I don’t know the score of the song that I want to be singing.
I’ve never thought about being this age without also thinking I’d be a sage who knew what the score was.
There’s more to being 88 than being old and feeling fate;
I feel a sense of dislocation in this situation.
I've never been this old before.
I don’t know what I expected, but something was neglected: wisdom or patience or a way to be gracious with the reality of aging mind and body
I wish I had the equanimity to see farther into infinity to know what the divinity has in store for me.
I’ve never been this old before, though I’ve had fantasies galore about how image and aging are entwined;
The reality is different and I can’t be indifferent to the changes in my body and mind.
And I do mind when I can’t find
A slick way through the daily grind;
Or depend on my recall
Of some things, but not all;
I've never felt this old before!
Yay! I'm so glad you shared it with everyone.
Poetry when it is needed -- the best! At 75, I notice everything about trees and draw strength from them.
Sorry, Courtney, but whatever you write or say, I will NEVER think of you as being debilitated in any way by aging: because I've never had a more irrepressible, energetic and brilliantly gifted student or friend! Of course, the traumatic effects of this repeated, hideous violence hit us as hard as any we've experienced. Yet, you are now, and will surely remain in the future, as a force of nature to uplift and inspire all those who know and love you. You may always count me as among them. DD
Stunning. Perfect.
This is so beautiful! Yes to all of it.
Very much how I'm feeling this morning. Thanks for this :)
That’s utterly perfect. Thanks.
At 40, I notice now more than ever~
Moon phase changes.
Myself in others.
That which connects us moreso than
that which separates us.
Dough elasticity.
My inner voice.
Strength in vulnerability
and flexibility.
That life is hard
and beautiful
and awful
and full of wonder.
That even when you think the answer will be a hard 'no', ask anyway. You'd be surprised how many times you'll get an enthusiastic 'yes'.
A couple weeks ago I asked my neighbor if I could liberate the sidewalk tree in front of their house, which to me seemed sad from growing in the sidewalk with less than a foot of exposed soil extending in any direction from thier foot-and-a-half wide trunk. He gave the okay and within an hour I'd used prybar, sledge, and desire to remove a few square feet of concrete (permits be damned!) from Beech's foot. The very last piece of concrete was pressed tight up against Beech and when I pried it up, I removed a decent piece of bark. "I'm sorry!" I said out loud to this being that I hurt when my intention was only to help. I hugged Beech, scooped a barrow full of home-made compost and dumped many buckets of water on the exposed soil around her, then tucked her in with a good layer of mulch.
Tree hugs and extra bread slices. Hell yes.