The new forty!

On my birthday a very dear friend gifted me a book called 'Tuesdays with Maurie', a beautiful, simple piece of literature that retold the last few sad and painful days of a man suffering from ALS. A kind and brilliant professor who had touched the lives of his students beyond their college years. A rare human being who lived by his thoughts, and who, by doing so, set an example for the rest of us, revealing to us the general mistake of just how lightly we take our lives to be. How granted we are of so many gifts, including the ability to wipe our own butts, a basic necessity that he is forced to turn to others for assistance.

There are no floral descriptives through the book, no elaborate explanations, just the experiences and the aching physical pain of a man who loved being alive whether healthy or not and who, through the writer, his student, teaches us various lessons on how we can tweak our thinking and eventually move on to a better living.

Various chapters deal with various topics - relationships, happiness, etc but the one topic that really struck me beyond the rest was Maurie's take on aging.

Now in the last quarter of last year I stepped into my fourth decade, and it was as I was nearing my venture into the exciting unknown of the forties that a realisation dawned upon me. For some strange reason most people seem to be wary of turning forty. That was also when I realised that most of my friends (and most of them thankfully are older than me!) had entered their forties without even so much as a squeak. From then on many of them shy away from announcing their age. I on the other hand don't mind one bit! I find it quite a boost when in return I always receive the comment that I don't look it! Probably a tad exaggerated but still a compliment I never tire of hearing!

Anyway I remember one friend in particular who worried about turning forty a whole year before she actually got there! And at the time it had me wondering about how affected I would be when I got there too. I did often ponder about my innermost feelings as I neared the new decade. But I honestly felt nothing unusual. Just the regular tingle of excitement that I've always had at every birthday of mine. The thrill of having friends gathering together just for me, doing something special for me. The fun in getting fabulous gifts. The shower of love that's always there on every birthday.

 In fact, on my fortieth, I found myself so looking forward to celebrating with friends and family. I actually had several celebrations!!

But most of all, on this birthday, I celebrated myself!

Now I can truly say, I was delighted to be yet a year older. I was thrilled to be forty. I felt I had lived enough on everyone else's terms and now I was of the licensed age to finally live on my own terms.

I felt I was young enough to have a blast, get drunk, go dancing, make out, do anything at all if that's what I wanted, and yet I was thrilled that I was now old enough to know what was best for me, to decide how my todays need to be, and how my tomorrows should be.

I learnt that I belonged only to myself. I could keep myself to myself for myself. I did not need to share everything and all that I am with anyone else. I was my special person. I found joy with me. I was my best critic and my greatest rock. I knew I would always want the best for me. I needed support, strength, and appreciation only from me.

I did not need another telling me what to do or how to be. I knew what was best for me.

Suddenly, gone was the deep dark desperate yearn to be understood and loved for I had realised that no one understood me better than myself. And at forty, I learnt that that was so enough!

My happiness was in my hands, and in my hands alone.

The deliverance was exhilarating to say the least!!

And in this aspect Maurie agreed with me.

Why should the heart grow old?

Why can't the mind grow old?

I've been foolish at twelve, daydreaming at eighteen, a mother at twenty-four, the head of my department at twenty eight. Give me any age before forty and I've been there and done it all. I can go back and do it again too. No-one who's not reached forty can say that!

Instead of looking back and wishing time would standstill if only so that the wrinkles would stay off your face, or your figure was what it used to be or your hair was thicker, I'd much rather welcome the elegance and grace that I know each year adds to me.

Instead of piling on more layers of make-up in an attempt to look younger but actually turning frightfully garish,(and yes I know a person or two who does exactly that!!) I would love for my skin and my features to speak of all the beautiful and not so beautiful experiences that's brought me this far.

I'm past the need of being admired for the way I look, and I look forward to being respected for the person that I am.

I love being able to dance like a sixteen year old, to laugh out loud and joke stupidly like any teenager can, but I also enjoy the wisdom that my years have gifted me which no teenager can lay claim upon.

That's the beauty of being forty.

So for those of you who try so hard to appear younger, do try to look beyond age. Look back and relish all the great years you've lived. Have you missed out on much? If you feel you have then that's all the more reason to turn and look forward. Make sure you don't miss out on anything anymore.