Closer to the bone...

Shortly before she died, my mother remarked one day, "I don't think people get older. I think they get more so." I remember feeling startled for, in looking at myself, I didn't much like what I saw. Knowing I'd be a more noxious version of myself as I got older was disquieting and so, with a great deal of difficulty, I changed my life's direction.

Or did I?

In the Gnostic Gospels, Christ says, That which you bring forth will save you, but that which you do not bring forth will destroy you. But within the house I name as myself, there are numberless impulses, desires, and longings all clamoring to be. What should I bring forth? As Theodore Roethke asks, Which I is I? Free in the tearing wind?

It's a property of youth to believe that that the personality is formed like a cafeteria lunch: a little of this, some of that and this for dessert. When young, we like to think think that we can ignore the great forces of our given natures and lives, and simply barrel through any obstacle. It was this idea rattling around in young hippie-heads that shaped the 70's communal movement, and the same notion fuels the self-help industry today.

As it turned out, many of us didn't cotton to subsistence farming or living in teepees, and try as we might, more of us stolidly remain our work-a-day selves no matter how many affirmations we paste on our mirrors.

One of the real pleasures of ageing,--and there are many--is the realization of our being despite everything. If we're lucky, we come to a joyful awareness that we are this and not that. And this is perfectly fine. It's such a relief not to be puzzled by ourselves, not to feel lashed by one societal wind after another. We're suddenly closer to the bone.

At least I am.