I wasn’t able to watch the Grammys last night, although I will catch a glimpse of some of the performances this evening on the Internet. Admittedly, I don’t know all of the newer artists, but of course I remember with fondness the performers of yesteryear—the musical geniuses who provided the backdrop to all of the special moments in my life. I loved them then; I love them now. In many cases, their talent just keeps getting better.
Today, I ran into a friend who asked me if I saw the Grammy Awards. She told me she always loves to see what outfits people will wear, and experience the old and new talents—some of which were pretty outstanding. This was a long time friend of mine—a very good friend; someone with whom I can discuss anything. But as she talked about the Grammys, there seemed to be no energetic vibe, no glint of excitement, no glimmer of joy. Finally, she revealed how saddened she was to see a few of the older entertainers, who, instead of proudly representing their age, apparently felt the pressure of having to puff up, cut up, or chemically stiffen their faces so many times, they had practically become caricatures of themselves. She felt badly about the pressure these major talents must have felt that prompted them to change their appearance—and this had even started to make my friend feel badly about herself, knowing full well that if that is what an older person must do to stay in the game, what a dismal state of affairs.
I am all about doing whatever anyone wishes to do in order to feel and look better. What I question, however is feeling we must cave to the pressure that our youth-oriented culture puts on older adults; causing many of us to desperately try to stay looking twenty in order to feel attractive and valued.
Has anyone ever denied the beauty of an autumn tree? Not long ago, I lived on a road lined with stately old trees from which long graceful branches on either side, reached out to touch each other, forming an endless lush arc of foliage. In autumn this arc took on the brilliance of sunlit gold, orange, red, and rust. People who drove on my street experienced a breathtaking—almost blinding work of Nature; a droplet of spiritual beauty to the eye of the observer.
And while no one thinks of autumn trees as unsightly just because they no longer have the tender blossoms of spring—we humans haven’t fared so well when it comes to perspectives on aging in our society. We are bombarded with anti-aging messages that in essence tell us to keep trying, keep hoping, keep chasing the pipedream of being twenty once again, instead of honoring the beauty inherent in every age, the evolvement of the soul, the depth of accumulated intelligence and wisdom we possess in our autumn years. It is time to start proudly celebrating each birthday, each month, each day, each minute that we are given the privilege to celebrate our life.
While we may not be able to single-handedly change others’ perspective on ageing, we can refuse to buy into it —by respecting ourselves. With unabashed gratitude we owe it to ourselves to acknowledge the beauty of our age, the immensity of our hearts, and the capacity of our minds. This “third age”, I have discovered, is wrought with exquisiteness. This is the time to live our gift of life to the fullest: in strength, confidence, grace, and goodness. What a relief it is to know that we are fine and even perfect just the way we are—without having to chase anyone else’s impossible dream of who they think we should be. Now is the time to live out YOUR dreams, YOUR way.
COMING IN NOVEMBER, my newest book : “Aging Happy: How to Knock Out the Nonsense and Make These the Best Years of Your Life “(Linden Press).
For speaking inquiries : RaeleenMautner@gmail.com