Oftentimes I say that Covid changed my life in a positive way. Being sequestered for a year cannot help but shine a light on the things we learn to do when we can't be out and about. My creative spirit was shoved into high gear and hasn't slowed since. I live now to create and donate. There is no good reason for any of us to grind our minds away trying to figure life out. If the Aristotles, Platos and Socrateses can't come up with a good explanation, then my time is laughably wasted by trying. That doesn't mean that my mind doesn't fight against unrelenting curiosity. Oh, trust me, it does. But, like reining in a horse pulling a cart, I have to pull back and submerge my mind into designing and creating.
I am an extremely selfish person. I do not give the things I make to just anyone.....only those I feel will appreciate the part of me that is in each piece I create. Appreciation is a huge part of kindness. The one thing I miss about the changes in our social behaviors is the old-fashioned thank-you note. Remember writing them? I sure do. Thank-you notes were social graces.....today's generation feels they are simply entitled to everything and anything they point at or are given. Boy, that's light years from the way I was raised by parents who lived through the Great Depression. It's my personal opinion that we baby boomers were the lucky ones, cuz we were taught the power of gratitude. Giving thanks was central to receiving.
AM I GETTING OLD?
~Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
"You're getting old," they tell me. "You've stopped being you. You're getting bitter and lonely."
No, I replied, I'm not getting old. I'm getting wise.
I have ceased to be what others would like me to become, I have stopped seeking the acceptance of others.
Instead, I accept myself.
I have left behind me the lying mirrors that cheat mercilessly.
No, I'm not getting old, I'm becoming assertive, selective of places, people, customs and ideologies.
I've let go of attachments, unnecessary pains, people, souls, and hearts. It's not for bitterness, it's just for health.
I traded party nights for learning insomnia, stopped living stories and started writing them.
I put aside stereotypes, stopped using makeup to hide my wounds, now I carry a book that beautifies my mind.
Changed wine glasses for cups of coffee. I stopped idealizing life and started living it.
No, I'm not getting old.
I have in my soul and in my heart the innocence of those who discover every day.
I have in my hands the tenderness of a bird who will spread its wings to other unattainable sites for those who only seek the frivolity of material.
I carry on my face the smile that escapes naughty as I observe the simplicity of nature. I have in my ears the bird's trillary making my walk bright.
No, I'm not getting old, I'm getting selective, betting my time on the intangible, rewriting the story I was once told, rediscovering worlds, rescuing those old books half pages I had forgotten.
I'm getting more prudent, I've left the outbursts that teach you nothing. I'm learning to talk about transcendent things. I'm learning to cultivate knowledge. I'm planting ideals and forging my destiny.
No, it's not like I'm getting old from sleeping early on Saturdays. It's just that Sundays also have to wake up early, enjoy coffee without rush and read calmly a poemary.
It is not by old age that you walk slow, it is to observe the clumsiness of those who rush and stumble with discontent.
It is not by old age that sometimes is silent, it is simply because not every word needs to be echoed.
No, I'm not getting old. I'm starting to live what really interests me.
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