AnimusRex
Posts: 2165
Joined: 5/13/2006 Status: offline
|
FR to no one on particular- Yanno...I was writing a journal post, intended to be an essay on aging, and how much I enjoy being mature. It was a lovely series of thoughts, things I ponder while gardening, about time, and growth, and finding someone compatible. Part of it was this: There is a beauty to maturity. Instead of fixating on the energy of youth, there is something to be said for the wisdom that comes with years, the calmness and peace in not being surprised by every turn in the road, in knowing you have seen this turn, and that one too, and that it will turn out alright in the end. There is a beauty to a woman who shares that understanding- not one who has just read the words, but one who has shared that road, who can really grasp and understand what it means. There is a beauty in someone whose soul has been tempered. Steel is tempered by repeatedly heating it to near melting, then plunging it into a shock of cold water; souls are tempered by the repeated shocks and crises in our lives, and over time, if the shocks are mixed with wisdom, we can become mellower, less judgmental, more loving and more able to forgive. I look forward to the years ahead. I see it as exciting, a time to experience new things, finding new turns in the road, rather than retracing the ones I have seen previous. But then, after all this blather about wisdom and growth and maturity, I come across....other stuff. Stuff that just totally blows my thesis out of the water, and leads me to think age doesn't mean fuckall, and maybe we shed braincells as we grow older. I think my new post will be entitled "No fool like an old fool."
|