“ Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up interest wrinkles the soul. You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hope as old as your despair. When your heart is covered with the snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism, then, and then only, are you grown old. And then, indeed as the ballad says, you just fade away.”
-Douglas MacArthur
Growing old terrifies me. Acquiring the natural old woman odor of stale air and lotion, looking like a sad and drained silhouette of who I once was, or even having to put more than typical effort to make it up a set of stairs does not worry me. What fills me with alarm is the complacency that seems to overrun the average mentality with age.
I find strange fulfillment in waking up in a new place. If I could, I would open my eyelids to a new surrounding each day. Will the time come when I find comfort in awaking in the same room?
Watching movies makes me feel discontent because I spent over an hour of my life viewing an individual live instead of living myself. Will I one day watch Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune religiously as I eat a microwave dinner on my lazy chair?
I anticipate the challenge of new thoughts and eagerly welcome the questions of existence. Will I find horrid rest in those mysteries?
I see the woods as the atmosphere for soundless awakening. Will I one day enjoy the progression of repetitiveness?
I say to Life, “Bring on the careworn skin that wilts into folds from the years of joyous endeavors and the forgetfulness that comes because there are too many grand recollections that have collected in the memory bank of the mind to retain them all!”
But to the day where mystery, newness, fervor, challenge, and restlessness die, I say, “I’d rather die a thousand deaths than live one moment in the disintegration of youthful aspiration.”
I admire the individuals who arrive in their grave untouched by complacency and likely never to be phased by its existence.
Good thoughts. You write well.
ReplyDeleteI am rather afraid of aging, myself. Not for many other reasons but the ones you mentioned. Mostly, I think, because I don't want to get so caught up with my family, my work, my life, my age, my infirmity, (or whatever) that I lose sight of what my true purpose of being in the world is. Glorifying God and winning souls, namely. I can easily see myself getting distracted by the decaying state I'll no doubt find myself in eventually.