Age Before Beauty

‘Age before beauty’ used to be something that was said when holding the door for someone or when letting them move in front of you in line. Although often accompanied by a nicety, the premise was an either/or proposition. You were either old or pretty, but you couldn’t be both.

I’m reminded that I’m aging on the daily. I’m watching an amazing Netflix documentary about centenarians entitled Live to 100: Secrets of the Blue Zones, and I’m taking notes. During one of the episodes, I was informed the average life expectancy for women is 78 and I started counting…7 more years. Jimmy Buffet died last week at the age of 76…5 more years. I certainly hope I beat the “average,” but I’m painfully aware there’s no guarantee.

Against all odds, I’m happy to say I am finding the beauty in aging. I will be the first to admit I’m not one for celebrating birthdays, or for being told, “You look good for your age.” That said, as I age, I am finding beauty in the simplest of things. A bluebird sky in Colorado is a sky like none other. I will stop my morning run, mid stride, to breathe in the scent of a lilac bush. I appreciate the luxury of reading an entire book over the course of a weekend without guilt or shame. I say “Yes” to more invites from friends, and I cherish family dinners.

I wish I could say I don’t worry anymore; let’s just say I worry a lot less than I used to. My memory isn’t as sharp as days of yore, but given enough time, I usually remember whatever it is I forgot. Even that is a gift of aging. I once had a mind like a steel trap, and every unpleasant memory, hurtful comment, or disappointment could be revisited at a moment’s notice. I’ve come to appreciate the beauty of forgetfulness and the fact that it’s time to let that sh*t go.

I’ve found a church that feeds my soul, and my reliance on faith has grown exponentially. I can meditate, pray, and be present with others without having to worry about time constraints. Pretty much, my time is my own…how wonderful is that?! Once again, the beauty of aging. Don’t get me wrong. Would I love a do-over? Absolutely. Would I like to be 30, or 40, or 50 again? You bet. Since those ships have sailed, I know my best option is to be grateful for my health, my family, friends and faith, and whatever years I’m blessed with in the future.

John Mayer says, “If you’re pretty, you’re pretty; but the only way to be beautiful is to be loving. Otherwise, it’s just, Congratulations about your face.” I’ll take aging and loving over pretty any day.