Seventh Decade Musings

I slipped and slid into my seventh decade today. Kinda has me rubbing me eyes in somewhat of a stupor. Me, Sixty!?! How can that be? I once thought youth was mine forever. Turns out I (along with all who have come before and felt the same) was wrong.

I’ve never been one to celebrate my birthday. Well, OK, birthdays were a big deal for the first decade or so. Kinda came to be old hat after a while. Still, there was something about this day, something about entering what could very well be my final decade (if decrepitude is any indication) that affected me more than I would have predicted. It was a day of reflection and somewhat of a celebration.

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From my very first entry in this blog, I’ve been pondering what it all (as in “Life”) means. I’ve been circling round and round the subject, as in that early post titled “The Three Ages” some six years and 500 posts ago, to this very day. Although the journey has been convoluted, often painful, I’ve edged a bit closer towards understanding.

My sixth decade was a mess (I’m being charitable). It was a decade filled with losses great and small. Lost my cartilage, my youth. Lost quite a few who meant everything to me. Lost my perspective, my hopes. Lost my way and, as a consequence and for a good long while, my will to live.

The thing about losses and pain is that they humble the heart, mind and soul. Say what you will, humility is a good thing. A most necessary condition. To be humbled, brought to one’s knees, is cause to reflect and reassess. Wants and ambitions fade in importance. Fantasies give way to realities. Though I would have greatly preferred to have avoided the losses, the humblings, the sheer abject pain, I concede they’ve served their purpose.

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The blogosphere is replete with references to an ancient Egyptian belief that the answers to two questions determined whether or not one would be allowed to proceed on to the afterlife:

Did you find joy?
Did you bring joy?

Frankly, I don’t think I’ll ever meet Osiris (I could be wrong). No matter. What does matter to me, today, is that I believe these truly are the only two questions worth asking and answering.

Have I found joy?

Yes, I have. Not in the conventional sense that all too many assume to be the paths to Joy: material wealth, professional success, full belly and multiple orgasms (although I’ve had my fair share of all that, too). Those paths may (or may not) lead to satisfaction, pride, laughter or euphoria, but Joy is something quite a bit different.

I can’t wrap my mind around Joy. I’ve tried. I’ve tried to put into words just what it was I felt when I’ve experienced true Joy. Never did have the words or the talent. But Joy is something unmistakable. It’s a feeling utterly profound, often resulting from experiences not visible to any bystander. I wrote, once: “It is true joy to wake to a dream and have the dream be real. It is a blessing to wake to the world…when your entire world is lying there beside you.” Yes, I’ve found Joy in fits and starts. Found it in kind gestures, found it in unexpected places and inexplicable ways at the most unpredictable moments. Joy is simply like that...available to all who spread their arms wide, open their eyes and hearts (if only for a moment).

Oh, yes, I’ve experienced Joy.

Did I bring Joy?

Oy, that’s a question I find difficult to answer. I think I have...to some. But not enough, to souls enough for long enough, I fear. I’ve not earned sufficient laurels to rest upon. But, Osiris, if you’re out there, know that I hope to do better.

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This was a day of greetings and heartfelt conversations. I was rather surprised by the outpouring of good wishes. Yes, quite a few brought me joy this day.

Many exhorted me to celebrate. And celebrate I did. Just not in a way they might have had in mind.

All I wanted to do was mount my bicycle (gracelessly, as has become my norm) and ride. So I did just that. The day was hot and humid. Thunderstorms lurked on the near horizon, sputtering gusts meant to pose a challenge. No matter. I saddled up and rode. I rode for as long as my burning knees allowed and reveled in the fact that I still could. And the sweat that cascaded down my face to sting my eyes? I reveled in that, too. I gave thanks for the heat, for the blood and sweat, the aches and pains.

I was glad to be alive.

Glad for this chance to experience joy.

Praying I’ll still have a chance to bring joy to others.

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From Blossoms

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.
From laden boughs, from hands
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.
O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.
There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

Li-Young Lee

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