At 54, you’d think that I’d be accustomed to getting older, yet I’m actually increasingly surprised when I look in the mirror. (If you’re older, you’re thinking, “Just wait.” I know, I know. I don’t mean to whine about it—just reporting on my experience so far.) “What the hell?” Is the unbidden thought that most often arises. I hear the voice in my head ask, “What is GOING ON here?” like aging is some previously unexplored condition. I can’t tell you why it still surprises and confuses me, but what I can tell you is this: the person I now see in the mirror is not “me.” It never actually was, but the gift of the aging form is that this fact is now in my face, literally and figuratively. Now, it’s a comfort to remind myself each day that these changes are no big deal because the real me is the one I feel within and beyond the body, not the one I see in that cursed mirror. This is kind of the whole point of consciousness expansion/evolution, so from that perspective, I should be celebrating. Yay. And, great news, the situation will be exacerbated each day until I become a real-life Yoda (assuming he was once slightly taller). I’ll pop a cork right after I tend to this whisker on my chin.
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