Is it just me or does getting older actually come with a deep, dark, delicious secret? . . . because, these days, I kind of feel like a chameleon who is less worried about fitting in than it is with living with its true colors. And I have to say that this contentment feels pretty good.
Maybe it all started with my friend's recent retirement announcement and the inevitable change that it brought to my own life. Suddenly, I see a professional future without journalism in it; a more grown-up future with big budgets and weekly meetings and maybe even new clothes and added responsibilities in it.
Despite those scary things, though, the newness of this chapter feels pretty revitalizing. And that's when I realize that I kind of like being older. More experienced. Less worried about success and failure than I am about showing up, paying attention and keeping it real. I don't know if that means that the hoops have become more difficult to jump through or more freeing. I suppose it depends on one's perspective.
Sometimes, I think we foolishly resist the urge to just jump out of the airplane and enjoy the view. Well, I must say that I am enjoying the view these days. Even from these scary heights that have life-and-death-and-everything-in-between tucked within them.
I say "Bring it!"
Who'da thunk that I would reach the point in my own life where I sort of felt sorry for those friends who are younger than me?!
But that seems to be where I am these days--in a funny, unexpected place where I find the calm that comes with having lived a bit; the joy that comes from recognizing the pleasure of simpler things; the confidence that is fed by stretches of time tinged with failure, and the ability to look those things in the eyes without blinking.
. . . you'll hear no complaints from me. Not today, at least.
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