Being quick-witted and sassy is what women in my family have always been known for. I used to have such fun racing to pop off an answer framed as a question, Jeopardy style. I always won. I’ve also always loved pulling off a good rescue mission.
Stir together the impulse response and the Rescuer persona. Apply a long career aa a teacher and counselor. Bake for about 65 years. What comes out is someone like me: a human being who is constantly learning to keep her mouth shut.
Nowadays I at least know to slow myself down. And when I do slip up, it’s because I’ve somehow convinced myself of my own brilliance and wisdom. Based (of course) on an ample lifetime of learning the hard way.
The best worst news of getting older is that the quick-witted trick doesn’t quite work the same.Now I think of the very best snappy comeback and then I sometimes stop mid-sentence, awkwardly waiting for someone’s name or a common everyday noun to emerge from the murky bowels of my memory. Just like the old days when I frequently blew a good punchline.
It’s strange to be That Person, and the one who forgets important things like where she stashed an item of some importance (say a car title, or perhaps her very own head). Day by day it’s apparent that I’m over it (my head, that is).
Who is This One now she’s in the third act of life? Not the same. And yet that’s not true either. There’s a very big, calm part that always knows, when asked, what’s truly important to remember. It lives somewhere and nowhere and everywhere, and it has always had my back.
When I remember this I don’t need the cheap memory tricks anymore. but what I do need I’ve had all along, and she’s a hella good navigator, calm and wise. One with the Big Picture in mind. One who knows the wisdom of silence, or at least the secret of when to listen well. One who wants nothing and whose fuel is a calm, loving heart. And that knowing is far more powerful than any one word could ever be.
I relearn this nearly every day.
Gratitude for all these moments of clarity, even when I forget.
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Nourishment I want to eat the morning light by the tablespoon. No. By the cupful. Stalking it ambushing it as it butters its way across the room, moves at a certain slant, creeps up behind the shadows tucked into corners swallows everything in its way I scoop it up for free like capturing snow for a cone. Three cupsful of radiance in a giant waffle cone, please. Savoring its smooth glow, I swallow its essence whole, ready now to face the news of the day —SgB June, 2024 |
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photo by George Beekman |
