In this past Sunday's New York Times Book Review, there was a passage in a review of Diana Athill's memoir Somewhere Near the End that really struck me:
"In one of her extraordinary essays, "The Space Crone," Ursula Le Guin wrote that old women would make the best space explorers. Free from the daily tasks of rearing helpless children, free to see and comprehend without vanity, loving life because we know we may have to leave it soon, we would embark on our journey to the stars not for ego or planting flags but only for the information to transmit back to our grandchildren for their future explorations. We know by then that we are part of the flow of life."
I can't wait to be an old woman.
Really, I think I mean it. Maybe all the self doubt, the competition and vanity will fade away, leaving me this wise, calm, amazing version of myself. The perfect age for space exploration. And no one will know it! They'll think I'm just some old woman; never on to my secret power. I'll let my hair go white, will pull it back at the nape of my neck.
If you'll permit me to get a little more macabre, I've also been thinking about my funeral. At my own grandmother's funeral a few years ago, I looked around at one point and realized the mourners were all so much younger than her. Children, grandchildren, a great-grandchild. It was a sad day of course, but I also felt a strange little thrill for a moment. At my own funeral, lying with my tastefully arranged snow-white hair, the people crying (real tears! tears of heartbreak!) over me will be people who, as of 2009, I haven't met. Children and grandchildren - bonds that I have heard are some of the most powerful and rewarding you experience. All those people. All those great relationships. Still to come! Still in store for me.
Really. I can't wait to be an old woman.
snowy day
15 hours ago
1 comments:
Allison,
Your words, "I can't wait to be an old woman.
Really, I think I mean it. Maybe all the self doubt, the competition and vanity will fade away, leaving me this wise, calm, amazing version of myself" left me amazed because I had a similar thought a few months ago.
I wrote a friend of mine: now that I'm almost 30, I can have a sigh of relief. Self-imposed pressure to do well and fear of failture are fading fortunately and finally. If the average life span were 60, then I've lived almost half of it and have done a decent job at it even by my own standards.
So it's time to pat myself on the back on the job well done so far and encourage myself to keep it up for the second half. And to make up for things I've missed in the first half of my life like being a more considerate person rather than focusing on accomplishment and go-getter kinda person:)
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