Aging- Feeling Good in Your Skin. Letting the World Finally Accept You.

Sure, aging brings pain.  It brings much comfort too.  Society doesn’t expect you to look as good.  You’re even allowed to get away with saying what you think…and they listen without offense…regarding your words as very wise. 

I remember in my 30s, stepping on a weight scale up to 14 times a day, just to make sure no ounces crept in.  I didn’t drink water for fear it would add a pound or two.  Then one day, I grabbed the ugly scale and threw it in the garbage.  I had nightmares for two weeks.  Now I’m more at peace.  And when I go to the doctor and they asked me to step on their scale, I turn my head and tell them not to say a thing about my weight.

Statistical Living-by Linda Athis

I measured my heart rate.
Stepped on a scale.
Embraced the practice of self-inflicted pain…
my personal wail
against age.

Nearby, elders watched
with a non-malicious glee.
They knew the secret:
Time and gravity bring all to their knees.
Ten out of every ten people die.

Now I,
Much older,
threw out my scale.
Vowed to stroll, not race,
grateful to do that alone,
inhaling all beauty
I never saw
while dueling with time.

I bow in peace at my role, my place.
I lived not to gain power, money, pleasure,
but faced my most formidable goal:
To treat myself with kindness,
and unfold my soul.

Shared Poetry - How Great a Brother Can Be

I love it when readers share their poetry with me.  I have to trust that it is truly their own.  This is a nice one:

Love to my Brother

You are compassionate

Understanding my stress when no one else can.

Your training in elder care

gives me a confidence

that nothing I am learning is new to you.

When my confusion and doubts come

You do not walk away.

You are there for me.

I need not mourn the loss of my youth

You are beside me.

You show me truth.

You teach me acceptance.

You teach me grace.

You teach me to be

looking only

to the Master’s face.

As long as I am open

to share that love with others

I have no fear of loss of purpose.

I have never really been able to thank you

Just for being you.

Perhaps this note will tell you

I love you.

“Not only for who you are

but who I am when I am with you.”

Thank you my brother.

-MaryHelen Ferris

April 1, 2008
*quote from Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Two Poems About Wisdom, Age and Change

Don’t Even Try 

You can’t fold a pile of laundry all at once.

Get mad if you must.

Each piece demands to be folded,

by itself.  In its own time.

 

Age Revelation

Two tiny holes in a dishwash rag.

My earlier mind would have thrown it out.

Replaced it with a costly designer piece.

My later mind likes the touch

of fabric supple from use.

This one is saved.

Odd Vacation

Ecstasy is exhausting,

thus,

God sends us here

for one miserable rest.

We Are Our Own Worst Enemy

Years ago I found and bought a wire sculpture that said it all to me.  It was a bird cage.  Inside a man was peering desperately through the bars, and right behind him, the cage door…..was open!

 One Key

The jailer, he walks.
So cocky, he rings
the keys he holds dear.

And I, behind bars,
have such angry thirst,
I cannot bear to watch.

But maybe I will…
just a glimpse
An inner voice has hinted
something sacred passes here.

I took that glance,
an eerie chance.
Heart shattered with shock
at what I saw.
He strolled to my cell,
undid one key,
and handed it with love to me.

Men Have It Easy

So many guys have it easy.  No make-up to worry about, gut size doesn’t matter, clothes (and shopping for them) is very simple.  Men can be easily entertained for hours in front of a TV - God forbid you try to wrestle it out of their hands - and leave the house a total mess.  It just doesn’t register on their “I care” scale.   One day, while I mused about how complicated it is to live the female life, I asked the women in the office what advantage or “ease in life” they had over men.  Not one came up with a good answer.  One tried…she said, “I don’t have to shave everyday.”  Well I had news for her.  I have to shave both legs every day (I get 4:00 p.m. shadow), many more square inches than a guy.  And guys can simply grow beards!

If you are male and reading this…please know, I’m not generalizing.  There are good guys, too.  But admit it….you do have an easier time.  Guys can grab a bar of soap and one change of clothes and have everything they need to travel (soap shampoo, soap toothpaste, soap for the body, and even soap to wash their clothes if they forgot their second outfit.  Twenty year olds will still marry you, even if you are 80.  Now that’s telling it all.  Read on:

 Born Female 

-by Linda Athis

I wore no bra.
I did not bathe…
nor shave
my legs bearing half-inch hair.

I scratched and belched,
and had no care.
Turned on the TV,
and ruled the remote.

I zoned into a blank,
uncaring stare,
watching war and blood,
crime, celebrity, cruel sport,
and babes with glittered hair.

My conscience rebelled
with guilt. Unfair!
Too bad, too bad.
I did not care!

I needed this day,
This rest from hell,
to discover a world,
where I might have been male.

Waiting to Rise

Wannabe clouds are prisoners on earth.
Then the jailhouse blasts open.
Merciful heat helps them soar
to meet and marry atmosphere.

They have history.
Perhaps once
they fed trees in forest dirt,
drizzled lazily
on tense city sidewalks
stabbed by sexy stilettos.
Or lingered in rain gutters,
passing the time,
in a choking yearn for skyward release.

You, like future clouds,
cannot choose your appointed time.
The wait can be long,
or callously short.

Then one day a sun’s ray,
at a most uncommon moment,
selects only you.
Jolts you with joyful heat,
as you rise to join an atmosphere
much easier to bear.

My Valentine Needs No “Trophy Wife”

I am so lucky to be married to a man who doesn’t care for make-up, fancy hair or clothes.  He’s made it possible for me to relax into what I really am.

From My Husband(by Linda Athis)

Grow old with me.
Lay aside your years of make-up, haircut,
the precious clothes
you wear, thinking to please me.

In time, in looser clothing,
I will find you. 
Just you.
All I ever wanted.

Fighting Age?

Saw an old friend for lunch today.  We met each other in our late twenties and now we are in our fifties.  We both vowed:  No plastic surgery, no BOTOX.  We committed ourselves to aging gracefully.  Not an easy thing to do when every marketing piece screams: “Don’t fight age…defy it.”  How utterly ridiculous.

I don’t want to fight.  I’m tired of fighting.  I want to settle into an age where I don’t have to worry so much about looking good…whatever that is.  I want to like me for what I am inside, and not what I think others want me to look like.  It might feel just great!

Let me share this poem.

My New Age (by Linda Athis)

I gave away my youth today—
Pried open my clenched hand—
a release that felt so good
I could not stop the tears.

Now, perhaps I can live my life.
Let a young crushed chick fly free. 

My hand, so hard from the gripping,
Felt cool and exhausted.
Good god—
Why did I wait so long?

BOTOX, Plastic Surgery

A friend of mine asked me the strangest question the other day.  “Ok, I want to know…what is it?  BOTOX?  Plastic Surgery?”  He then told me I looked too good and suspected I had done something to look as young as I do for my age.  

As I page through local magazines catering to women, and see (with horror) the dozens of safe youth-preserving proceedures advertised…it breaks my heart.  What are we telling our children?  Our daughters?  I have my own personal experience in this arena - in my poem below.

To Spite Her Face(by Linda Athis) 

I was the beauty you wanted to be.
Me.
Your daughter.

And on the day
surgeon’s cut your nose,
the nose that horrified you so,
I gulped,
strolled into
your hospital room.
You were asleep,
alone,
and bandaged like a baby bird
with a broken beak.
Purple bruises on shuttered eyes.

And then I ran,
didn’t wake you up.
Never let you know
I saw you so,
‘cause it broke my heart.