Acceptance

After years of trying to hang onto youth, the skin creams, personal trainers, kale smoothies, I am now entranced by the wrinkles appearing on my face. The deep frown line between my eyes from all the worry as a single mother, scraping by, wondering what to do when the electricity is turned off because the unpaid bill sits unopened on the kitchen table.

Lines radiate from my eyes when I smile revealing the unspeakable joy of holding my newborn son as he nurses. Or the love in my whole being for my husband, children, friends and family. Gratitude for being able to see the rainbows in the falls in the Milford Sound and all my far-flung adventures in the world.

There is a sunspot on my cheek, perhaps born during my college summers as a lifeguard and teaching hundreds of children how to breathe in the water, face their fears and dive into the deep end of the pool, at the very same time that I am learning this myself.

There are now two deep lines from my nose to my double chin. I try to look away from my double chin and remember feeling pretty, a discovery at 13 when I realized the boys liked me.

Gravity has been at work lowering the flesh above my eyes which used to be so wide and bright. My cataracts have been removed and I can see vivid colors once again. And the cultural film that blinded me to choices is much thinner now.

I am a crone. Even writing these words require the courage to confess I am growing old, although it is plain for anyone to see.

I know now that I don’t know the meaning of life and it is not necessary to know. After his death my father visited me in a meditation. He was so excited to tell me we don’t need to know the whole grand plan of life. We just need to see the next step as it emerges and have the courage to say Yes. This becomes the portal to the next step.

I fear I have not said yes to everything I could. Some choices I missed completely and sleep walking, just followed the invisible script. Somehow, though, we are given a second chance, a third chance, life after life, as new opportunities appear.

I have made friends with Ego now that I know better how to stand up to its fear mongering bully tactics. I allow myself the Ego satisfaction that my hair is still shiny and thick and that the beachheads of gray can not be seen at a distance. I feel Ego’s pride when people tell me I don’t look my age. Ego doesn’t know I am not my body and that spirit is eternal.

I am weaving, braiding, integrating and sense making. I want to tell my story. I don’t know why. Maybe it will connect to something you are exploring or plant a seed of possibility. Perhaps this is the work now of Crone, to be the storyteller. To pull all the shame, inadequacies and failures out of the shadows where they like to hide and toss them into the wind for all to see.

Perhaps the work of the Crone is to hold your hand. I reach across the page and hug you close. I am here with you as we sob and sing together in this crazy world.

My arms are saggy now and I can no longer pull in my stomach for the family pictures. My skin is crinkling. I used to avoid sleeveless tops because my arms are not presentable but now I revel in wearing them. I am considering a crop top to see how it feels to expose my soft rounded belly.

The final joke is appearances do not matter. It is love that matters. It is the ability to set everything aside and listen with my whole being. It is the joy that lights up my eyes when I see you.

I look back into the mirror. I look deep into my eyes searching for my youthful self. Before I met my soul mate, before I got fired, before divorce, before the betrayal, before being prom queen, before learning to dive into the deep end. I see her now, full of anticipation and trepidation. She does not yet know who she is.

I whisper across the ethers of time to my younger self. “You are in Earth School now to remember to be the essence of love.

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