So I’m turning 60 in a couple of days, another big birthday, and I’m feeling kinda blah. This will be a sick birthday since I caught a cold, and it will be a working birthday plus additional hours on that particular day. Yet I know it will be my special day, that date on the calendar that marks me as a Scorpio, that hour of birth at dusk my most powerful moment of the day, an exact week before Halloween, for whatever cosmic and metaphysical reason the day of my birth on planet Earth in 1962.
Turning 50 was a milestone ten years ago. I know a lot of people who never made it that far, now this far in life. Turning that particular age had such a monumental impact on me that I decided to go back to college for a master’s degree. Didn’t know it at the time, but I’d end up traveling the world, going to India of all places (yet the country I always wanted to visit). So you never know where life will take you. A bit later I started writing this blog and then founded my own educational nonprofit business about the importance of journalism in our country’s democracy. Throughout the past decade, I became that person I always wanted to be: someone who marches at rallies—that greying frumpy woman with rimless glasses or shades protesting in March for Our Lives (calling for sane gun laws to end mass school shootings) and Reproductive Liberation March and Bans Off Our Bodies (to keep abortion a private legal choice for girls and women). Chanting “This is what democracy looks like!” and “Hell no, we won’t go back!!” with my elderly hippie colleagues and a mass of middle-aged and young adults. Proud to have participated and mostly glad to have the physical ability. A few elderly in these protests walked with canes or sat on the sidelines in wheelchairs. I respect them so much for Being there.
All last year at age 59, I felt every bit 60. My muscle strength is notably declining, sight dimmer, more vitamins & ’scripts necessary, bones stiff, chronic aches (a middle finger is twisted; doc asked if it was from over use—rim shot, very funny), my mind a bit forgetful or occasionally a tad confused especially when driving errands. Hey, I’ve got a lot on my mind these days. Sixty is going to be tough. I see. I either succumb or get tougher.
One of my parents is dealing with a compilation of diseases requiring long hospital stays and 24-hour care. That reality weighs on a child turning 60, too. I see. This is nearing the end of life, very likely. I realize each day the importance of every moment, how touching the lives we encounter with kindness can be and will be transformative for them, even though at home I resort to my curmudgeon self, the Scorpion sting. Sor-ry.
Curtain call
While I was enthralled in grad school and enthusiastically traveling the world, I made a plan to work on a doctorate at 60. And here I am. IDK. That aspiration has to wait a bit. Reality is paying for other obligations. Not sure why I was so gung ho on a doctorate anyway other than personal fulfillment and ego. For 50 years I was never interested in earning a doctorate. Maybe being in the real world these past few years, away from all those college professors, has set me straight.
I had a dream recently, what is called a Big Dream, very meaningful to the dreamer. I am sitting alone in a white corridor, and I know I’m dead. I don’t know how I died, figured suddenly like a car crash. But I’m confused and sorry to be dead. Then a man casually is walking down the corridor toward me. I know he’s Jesus; he’s got long hair, a beard, but wearing today’s casual men’s clothes. As he gets closer to me, he morphs a bit and wears small round glasses; I know he wants to appear like John Lennon to make me feel more comfortable and perhaps to make me realize that I, too, am dead. He’s got a hand in his pocket and a pleasant smile. He says, “I’m here to take you Home. Ready to go?” But I stay seated, confused, unwilling to move, to move on into eternity. He’s surprised by my reaction and asks, “Aren’t you excited?” And I respond, “I just wanted to accomplish a few other things in life.” And JC says to me: “You’ve done A LOT with your life.” Hmm. Wonder if he meant ‘Come on, enough already.’
So what are those things I want to accomplish? I guess that is what I should be focused on more instead of just work and busyness and succumbing to debilitating body ache. Actually, I have done as much as I could in some areas of interest. The internet has allowed a lot of people to pursue their dreams and talents in writing, performing, all the arts, business, teaching, preaching. It is an incredible age we live in. Now getting those online ‘hits’ is another factor. Eh, I leave it up to the cosmos as far as fame and success here in cyberspace.
Turning 60 is important. Time to stop putting off anything wished we’ve done or said. My family says “I love you” every time before parting. And we never ever did that for 50 years. I remember the first time. It was blurted out by my dad as I was leaving. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather. The family unit is a mystically close relationship that I both observe as an outsider and participate in as my role. In Hinduism, the religion is layered with complexities because the culture believes life is very complex. Their millions of gods and goddesses represent every facet of life, and they believe each person has many facets, plays many roles. We are parents, children, relatives, friends, enemies, spouses, bosses, employees, pastors, congregants, etc. We each live many roles—and we do not act the same way, as the same person, in each role.
Shakespeare said the world is our stage and we the players. We are acting out our lives. If we’re lucky and healthy in body, mind and spirit, we become who we want to be, do what we want to do, accomplish all we want, and in so living become what once were our dreams. Through time and age, we learn this and our comings and goings on Earth will make life better for those who follow us. Happy birthday everyone! Make each one special with a new revelation … and another aspiration. Rock on!