Criteria
My thoughts have been greatly muddled of late. There have been too many. Most, frankly, were rather prosaic...so I won’t bore you with those. I’ll bore you with thoughts related to aging...a subject very much on my mind.
This particular entry comes out of order. It’s a disjointed thought.
I had been mulling the more consequential aspects of aging but became somehow distracted by a simpler notion: my criteria for an "ideal lover" have changed.
The notion just came outta nowhere and caught me by surprise. Yes, my criteria have changed.
When I was young, youngish, kinda/sorta youngish, I was rather vulnerable to great pairs o’ gams (I’m not ashamed to admit that, either. I will go to my grave believing that a woman sporting a great pair of legs is a cosmic delight). Look, I wasn’t oblivious to the female brain (from my earliest “coherent-thought” days, I thought females were, somehow, “special” or “superior”. Not so much, nowadays). But, frankly, I truly admired nipples that could grow hard enough to cut glass or chip teeth. I did. Magnificence has its place.
When I was young, youngish, kinda/sorta youngish, hormones ruled (or...even as I grayed, still had their place). Whether consciously or not, rationally or not, most men are mesmerized by the sheer sexuality/fecundity of females. We are. That’s why there are billions of us. We kinda got the whole sexuality/fecundity “thing” down.
But. Things change.
I gotta say, I’m not comfortable thinking the things I think. I’d rather be thinking ‘bout the days when I was young and...most decidedly...
crazy. But, I’ll be honest. I think about “aging” often. I think of it every morning when I spy myself in the bathroom mirror.
I am aging. I am growing old. I am wrinkling and rusting and aching and failing.
I am experiencing the fate of every living organism that ever was or will be.
It’s not all abject suckage. It’s not. For example, I discovered my criteria have changed.
It’s not that I don’t love well-turned pins. I do. It’s not that a perfectly-curved hip no longer inspires. It does. And I’m still a fan o’ chipped teeth given the proper circumstances.
Some things are simply hard-wired in the genome.
But my criteria for ecstasy, today...tomorrow...my end of days?
A loving, giving, sharing heart. A patient heart. A grateful heart.
A funny heart. A forgiving heart. A striving heart. An appreciative heart. A consoling heart.
A tender heart.
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Time marches on. Things change.
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Time marches on. Things change.
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posted by Jonas | 10/10/2009 02:03:00 AM
13 Comments:
I am sure you have always wanted a woman with the heart issues... You were just blinded my the gams!
Although I do hear you. Somehow we are granted with the vision of sanity as we age to see what is really important to us. I myself have learned that I have taken mobility for granted most of my life. This falling apart at the seams is getting me down!
I also have learned over my decades that to love the inner person is much more rewarding than loving the container... yet I still like hold that container while I love its guts~
I think as we get older we begin to realize how transitory our bodies our, while our hearts, our souls, those are what really matter.
We all change as we age and if the criteria didn't change we would still be stuck in an earlier stage. Trust me, being old is not that bad. I enjoy my old age because I can be crazy without anyone saying anything and I get senior discounts.
As I sit here in front of my computer, a squiggly half grown cat nestled against my chest, receiving kitty kisses that are bestowed with enthusiasm upon my cheek and chin and tender end of my nose, I know that my criteria have most definitely changed over the years.
And a lot of that is because of past experiences. Ones I have no desire to repeat, and ones that I wish to experience umpteen times again. And yes, the heart of the matter is just that... the heart. A good heart, a kind heart, an open and loving and accepting heart all matter so much more.
What is scribbled and scrawled in the margins of the center pages of the book holds so much more meaning than the glossy cover with fancy artwork. Give me any day the ragtag, dog-eared volume with pages galore covered in heartfelt and honest personalised graffiti.
We all get dog-eared and faded, the spine creaking as the cover is opened. But with care and insight and lots of constructive introspection, the script that decorates those interior sheets more than makes up for the aged outside.
Just gaze into the eyes... there shines forth the power and magic of the heart contained within.
Some say what we seek in others is what we have forgotten exists in ourselves. Having the time and perspective to begin recovering those lost heart-memories is, for me anyway, the major benefit of this stage of my life.
I can't help but think that this post ilustrates the reason it is so much harder for women than men - I don't want someone thinking, "Well, she's got a good heart, so I'm willing to overlook the fact that she doesn't have a 20-year old's breasts or legs anymore." I think women are a little more likely to fall in love with a man and then find things about his body to love.
What an eclectic set of comments!
You and I are similar in many ways Queen Cheese.
And, yes, of course, the heart was always paramount. When you think about it, though, young hearts are a bit daft. Hearts seem to grow more beautiful after being battle-tested.
I realize I write a great deal about aging and its myriad effects. My reveries keep leading me to deeper beauties and I'm grateful for that.
I agree with you Christella, aging isn't all that bad. There are the insights and there are the "senior-citizen" discounts. I cherish both.
I enjoyed your analogy, Ponita. Thanks.
Yes, Mary, there is that "savoring" component to aging that means so much.
I'm not sure we're understanding each other, Ms. Covert Operative. I probably didn't express myself well, and I'm not sure I understand what you tried to convey. That's not surprising. "Beauty" is a subject worthy of deep contemplation. What better way to fire up synapses than to ponder matters beautiful?
I've written sporadically about aspects of my ”perceptions of beauty ”before. No doubt, I will again.
and there's not a damned thing wrong with that.
What I'm realizing is that when my spirit is fed and my mind is inspired, this energy gets translated into all sorts of unexpected energy. Holy shit! Age means not a fricken thing. It's being inspired that is everything!
xo
erin
You'll get no argument from me, My Pella Princess.
Inspiration is powerful stuff.
The heart is where it's at. The tenderness and goodness of a heart that fits with your own is just the best.
I used to worry when I was younger about the right look and so on. All these superficial things that in the end, mean nothing. While it is still good to care for the physical body it is the emotional/spiritual body I care about more now.
A moving post, Jonas.
Awwwwww, Selma, you make me blush.
Yes, a tender heart. That's great. But is it wrong that I still want someone who will rock my world?
Anna! Long time no read. How are you!?!
You ask "But is it wrong that I still want someone who will rock my world?". Not wrong...human.
I think we all do. And those of us who've had our world rocked can be forever grateful. I've had all that, and it was all that. The only thing missing was the tender heart.
Now cue up Danielia Cotton's Make U Move from my playlist. Crank up the volume.
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