October 20th was my "half birthday", which was a thing I never knew existed until I met my wife. Her lust for life and love of all things party mean that she seldom misses a reason to celebrate… something. Anything! Even a concept as cockamamy as a half birthday.
This is clearly a milestone that never meant much to me. Until this past Sunday, I realized that Monday, I would be halfway to 40.
Really, I was halfway to 40 nearly 20 years ago, but the beauty, (and great frustration), of youth prevents us from thinking that way. Even if it has been a long time coming, from a psychological perspective, Monday started the final countdown to the big four-oh.
I know 40 isn't old and I don't fear 40. I struggle to put 40 in a context as I still regard myself as 19. I get jostled each and every morning when I splash some water in my face and see...
I haven't aged. But my reflection sure has been through the wringer. I feel badly for my reflection. It looks weathered. It looks tired. Sometimes, if I dare to look long enough, it looks a little sad. What has my reflection been doing wrong? I've been having a great time!
So, here we are at (nearly) 40, my reflection and me. One of us, young and spritely, spirited and immutable, the other bedraggled, frayed and worn. Both part of the same whole, fighting for supremacy. I think I have the upper hand for now, but my ever-aging reflection will inevitably win. I already prefer to eat dinner by five-thirty and be in bed by ten-o'clock. Can curmudgionism be far behind?
I do feel a twinge of rage from deep within me each time my George Carlin looking, pith helmet wearing mailman treads through my lawn to deliver bills, coupons for erectile medications and AARP applications. Can screaming "Get off my lawn, hippie!", be far behind?
My mother is fond of saying, "Bill, people don't get any nicer as they get older." I suppose she's right, as proven by the 90-ish year old man weaving about traffic completely oblivious to the chaos he was causing to those behind and abeam of him, who responded with an angry fist out the window to the several toots of the horn he received in return.
He may have been shouting "Get off my road, hippies!"
If I had the mentality of a 20 something, these inexorable eventualities would seem to be a long way off. But, based on my experience, it will be here before I know it, assuming I survive that long.
Isn't that the difference between time in your 20s and time as you age? Time accelerates exponentially with the acquisition of wisdom and experience. Perhaps someone who actually knows something about math could express this as an equation, like;
Velocity of time x function of acceleration (and them some superscript number) = Body aches *
Widsom + (Skinned knees + car accidents + Divorces)
Depth of wrinkles * # of times quitting smoking/Broken hearts
# of kids/ #of pets =Perception of Passage of Time
The answer is, I failed algebra. There are a whole host of teachers who tried so hard with me who just read that mess and laid their iPods down and closed their eyes, hoping to never open them again. For you, I am truly sorry. It's me, not you. I know you tried.
Humanity has achieved so much of what it has because it has learned to control its environment. We were hungry, so we hunted. We were cold, so we used the pelts of our kills to cloth and shelter us. We were bored so we had sex and made more people. We got tired of moving these big families all the time, ("No, Og, we are not there yet!"), and living under mammoth skins, so we built the first subdivisions, planted crops and started even bigger families, ("Thag, quit touching your brother!"). Then we decided to branch out and we built careers. Some became blacksmiths, winemakers, teachers and entertainers. Others became politicians, prostitutes and preachers. After awhile, we got tired of walking, so we made wheeled conveyances culminating in the car. And we loved the car, so we made drive through windows. We got fat, and we could no longer move. So we made TV to entertain us in our ever bigger and more complex homes, very few of which include anything like a mammoth pelt roof!
All this grooming and control of our world. We have tamed the unruly. Clothed the naked. Sheltered the weak. Made convenient the toil of daily existence.
Yet, we cannot stop time. We cannot stop getting older.
That reflection in the mirror is me, like it or not. And I'm not the 19 year-old that has squatters' rights in my head. I ache. I am tired. I get disillusioned and wish I had taken the time to accomplish more…
Looked at another way, my reflection is more than the aged reality of the ideal me. It shows me what I have accomplished. A successful marriage, a home, more friends than I can count. I have learned, loved and lost. I have shared great joy. I have been the cause of and the cure for great pain in myself and others. Occasionally, I write and plink a little song on the ukulele.
I have come to a peace and understanding with the universe in which I occupy centered around the fact that I don't have to understand how or why something is, but I have the ability to adapt and float along. I don't always have to know the answer or be right, but I can teach and develop others as they do the same for me.
Time speeds up just as I am slowing down. Not in a physical sense, though that is happening, too, but in a metaphysical sense. I'm not ready to adopt the "Be Calm, And Carry On" mantra just yet, but I'm dealing. Sometimes, that's the most you can hope for and the best you can do.
Somewhere, I think my reflection just smiled at me.
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