Life'll Kill Ya

[Originally published April 2005]

I have never been concerned with my age, or aging in particular. Like my approach to race and sex, my approach to a person’s age—including my own—has always been: “You are what you are and you can’t (easily) change that”. Even so, as the silvery strands populate my crown more thickly, I can’t deny that I have been thinking more about the effects of the years—and miles—upon myself.

The impetus for this introspection has been the recurring topic of growing older in an email conversation with a very good friend. Being of like minds, it’s been mostly a positive exchange. I think we’ve helped each other with what might otherwise have been some rough spots, since it’s hard to completely ignore a culture that seems perpetually enamored with youth and firm, lithe bodies. When she mentioned that an acquaintance of hers recently celebrated her 50th birthday by throwing a “crone party”, the idea resonated with me very strongly. Why not celebrate an important, and potentially rich time of life—and the achievement of getting there?

I remember my grandmother calling the lines at the corners of her eyes “crow’s feet” when I was a youngster. The term horrified me, then and now. To me, the lines weren’t ugly; they were the sign of a face that had smiled and laughed much, enjoying the sun and wind and weather. I see the beginnings of them at the corners of my eyes, and instead of feeling a sinking dread, I welcome them. They’re reminders that I, too, have enjoyed much in my life thus far.

Similarly, my once-flat lower abdomen now curves a bit, a testament to my body's production of two children. As I enjoyed being pregnant very much, and enjoy my children, that new curve is a mostly pleasant reminder of two very special times in my life. To use a Heinleinian phrase, my baby-chewed breasts are softer now, but I wouldn’t trade their previous firmness for the many hours with a baby in my arms, gazing into his or her eyes as my body nourished theirs.

These days I’m moderately fit, instead of the very fit person I used to be—also something I refuse to feel guilty about (most of the time—again, those messages are hard to totally ignore). My life is so full that devoting the time it would take to maintain the body I once had is not a choice I want to make. I want to play with my children, who can’t hike, rock climb, or ski (yet); I want to savor the time spent reading a good book; I want to exercise because it feels good to feel my body stretching and moving, not because I have to maintain buns of steel.

I also refuse to count calories, or fat grams, or any such silliness, even though my body seems more likely to want to store excess than it has before. I’d much rather enjoy a decadent chocolate cake, a glass of red wine, and good conversation with beloved friends, and be a little wider in the behind for it, than be obsessed about thunder thighs and the Atkins diet, and be skinny and alone night after night.

I hope that I’ll be around to savor the intense spark of life in a grandchild. My mother railed against this sign of aging more than any other, and I’ve never understood that. What could be a more precious affirmation of life than creating new life—passing a bit of your spark into the future?

When I see a woman with stunning silver hair, I find myself hoping that when I’m completely grey, my hair is as gorgeous as hers. If not, I may just color it—something I’ve never even contemplated before—as a celebration of cronedom and the unique beauties it offers. I certainly will not cut it almost completely off, then curl, comb, tease, puff, or permanent the remnants, until I startle at my own appearance in the mirror every morning. My mane will remain long and flowing for as long as I’m able to care for it, or have someone willing to do so—and when someone isn’t, then it’s time for me to go.

My underwear—and nightwear, when I choose to wear it—will continue to come from Victoria’s Secret or similar place, even though I never have and never will look like their models. Must one be under 35 to appreciate the glissando of silk on one’s skin? Or even better, the caress of satin under an appreciative lover’s hand? Both feel better now for having slept in some of the interesting situations I’ve found myself in over the years.

In short, as I progress into another phase of life, I fully intend to drink fully of its offerings, learn as much as I can from both its pleasures and its pains, and do things the way I want, rather than the way “little old ladies” are expected to. That’s the way I have always been. Why should I stop when I become a crone?

It’s been said before that I’m a mutant. Maybe I am. But I see no value in denying what one is—who one is—for the sake of fitting in with a culture that is in many ways profoundly unhealthy. To me, becoming a crone is an important milestone, one well worth celebrating.

I think I’ll begin planning my crone party.

Wow, am I feeling old now ... Ronnie James Dio died today. He may have been the man who led me to heavy metal, even though for the longest time I couldn’t remember his name.

Even though we are now more directly connected to the internets, and no longer have the FAP to fear, I don’t go to YouTube very often. Hell, I’m not here as frequently as I’d prefer—I just don’t have the spare time for poking around there, fun though it might be.

Two of the most special people in the world to me recently helped fill that hole, though. One needn’t be of a certain vintage to appreciate either of them, although remembering the original songs may add a bit of emotional oomph to these versions:

I remember when I first discovered Wired’s Animation Express—weird but intriguing stuff was the rule for the brand new medium, then called Shockwave Flash (hence the .swf file extension). The snolfs enjoyed a lot of the animations too, and wanted to see them repeatedly. That’s why I learned how to find those files, which were usually downloaded to my machine but buried deep in the Windows file system. I dug them out, renamed them, and put them in a folder of their own for easier access.

It’s been a couple of days since the story first hit the news, so I imagine most folks who pay attention have seen at least a headline shouting that there’s a “death link” to red meat. As is typical, the headlines obscure the findings in order to be as fear-mongering as possible. WebMD’s article, disappointingly, is little better.

Similar to the last time I touched on this subject, sources one might reasonably expect to be more balanced in their reporting have fallen far short. Here’s the first paragraph from the second link above, to a site called eFitness Now [all emphasis mine]:

Research shows that a person who eats a quarter pound of red meat per day faces substantial chance of getting cancer, ulcers, Alzheimer’s disease and other medical illnesses that can cut a life span.

Whoa! How have humans survived this long, eating such a toxic substance? A quarter pound is just 4 ounces ... that paragraph makes it sound as though red meat is much more harmful than nutritious. But let’s look at the details of the study, shall we? The full study is available online. It is very disappointing that not even the EurekAlert article mentions the extensive efforts to control for convariates, as that is crucial to assessing any study like this.

This study, looking for an association between meat-eating habits and risk of death, is correlational research. I expect y’all know the warning on that: “Correlation does not mean causation!” And in general, that’s true; some unaddressed variable might be more responsible for the association than the variables under study. However, with sound methodology, sufficient statistical power, and appropriate statistical analyses, a researcher may be justified in speculating about a causative relationship ... but that is largely the stuff of dreams—a sort of Holy Grail statisticians talk about, but researchers rarely see.

So yeah, if you’re suspecting that I have issues with this study, you’re right. With over half a million participants, and an impressive covariate list, what can I gripe about? Let me roll up my sleeves ...

I’ve been trying to find a Squirrel Nut Zippers song for a few days now—no easy feat, since I heard the song but once, over ten years ago, and have little recollection to run on. However, I did find something that is probably even better.

It's really easy to make a fool of myself. Really. I do it on a regular basis. (I'm sure this is not news to any who have been paying attention!)

But I must say, it's fun and enriching to do so, and that is why I continue this pursuit.

What a surprise to find an old Bee Gees album mentioned in the news today ... I thought that I was close to the last person alive who still listens to Odessa from time to time (“close to” because a dear friend gave me a digital copy upon learning I’d lost all my Bee Gees albums years ago).

Within the past month or so, I’ve encountered an astonishing assertion in several places. Not only is the assertion astonishing to me, it’s surprising that individuals whom I know to be intelligent and critical thinkers have offered it. This idea is—to perhaps oversimplify it a bit—that “brains are brains”. That is, absent congenital defect or physical trauma that obliterates part of one’s brain, all normal human brains are roughly equivalent in functionality. I’m going to try to refute this idea in two different ways, because each seems important. They may not appear to be so different to others, however.

It figures—the day after I wrote this, I found a book I’ve had for years that will be a great help in getting my body more toned in fairly short order.

That’s what I’ve been sorely tempted to tell a lot of people lately. But, despite my wishes otherwise, it simply isn’t true.

Those of you who’ve seen me recently, or seen some recent pictures of me, almost certainly know what’s coming. While I have recognized the truth for some time, it’s been harder to talk about it publicly, for a variety of reasons—and yes, pride is among them. I’m talking about it, finally, in hopes of getting some good ideas from individuals in similar situations, and to help others avoid falling into it. In all honesty, I never thought I’d be here, but like so many others, my inattention and lack of self-control caught up with me.

Is this something that’s part of the parental territory? Or part of the “wisdom” that’s supposed to come with aging? Or am I just losing my mind?

That’s essentially the message—delivered through Medicratese and Newspeak, of course—from the American College of Physicians in recent testimony to Congress [PDF]. I spotted the press release at EurekAlert.

I've recently started sharing another kind of energy therapy with my friends and clients. There are many, many different ways to healing with energy therapies, and EFT is one of the easiest to learn, but some people find it even more effective or easier to do Zpoint.

ZPoint is a simple, easy to learn way of truly becoming your authentic self. There are no complicated instructions. There is no equipment to buy. Its as simple as reading a 5 line healing program and repeating a special cue word whenever you are feeling stressed or upset or wish to release a harmful self destructive life pattern.

I had tried the Zpoint method a month or so ago, just reading it off the web page, but hadn't seen any particular benefit in it, though several clients have reported good results.

Even though the Zpoint people insist that there is "nothing to buy," they sell their DVDs and CDs rather aggressively. I saw no need to buy any of them, in great part because I didn't see any need for another therapy, but my sister sent me two of the CDs recently.

So, last night I sat down to listen to the first CD, and decided to do some EFT tapping while I went through the Zpoint procedure.

WOW! Many shifts, changes and insights that were new.

I've been struggling with a cataract (right eye) for the last year, sometimes making progress and sometimes seeing marked deterioration. I finally broke down last week and made an appointment with an eye doctor for the end of this month, but am determined not to give up trying to heal this myself.

This morning my vision is so much better that I'm typing this without my glasses...

I'll continue with the Zpoint, and the EFT... and let you know what happens.

Try it on everything, even if you think there is no way in the world it can make any difference. This is amazing!