Well Seasoned

With all the inner changes I’ve been having, certain words don’t feel the same for me anymore, like, the word ‘old’. And I’m talking about when we specifically use it to refer to us, not something like a desk or a tree. I listen to a few podcasts these days, and I noticed that one of the podcasters refers to himself as old from time to time. Not because he feels unwell but because he’s been on the planet long enough to have seen a lot of technological changes, as I have. In fact, I’ve got a decade on him.

When I was growing up, we had analog everything. Rotary phones that plugged into the wall. Television that had to be tuned and re-tuned, some stations coming in very fuzzy no matter what you did. You’d readjust the antennae and augment them with tin foil to get as clear a picture as you could. Cars had analog radios and no tape decks yet, and there were certainly no onboard computers. There were no personal computers yet. In fact, computers were massive mainframes that took up an entire room or several rooms. And we got our music from the radio or went to a store to buy records.

A lot has changed in the past half-century or so.

And going down a healing path for the past dozen years, words are taking on… well… not really new meaning, but rather a new connotation. I’m losing the negative associations we usually unknowingly attach to words.

Because I’ll be sixty in a few years, it’s fair to say I’m old. I’ve been around the block a time or two and have had a lot of life experience. But it doesn’t feel like a bad thing. Sure, I’m still pretty tired and a little creaky these days, but I know it will change for the better because I’m still being repeatedly dunked into a pot of darkness and bringing it up to be healed. It’s incredible and frankly, amazing… and yes, tiring… for now.

I need to come up with a better way of saying I’m old. A way that conveys what it means to me today. Perhaps I’m well seasoned, having lived through several cycles of the seasons. Or maybe it’s because I can get spicy once in a while.

I’d love to use the word crone because I identify with being a wise woman. But it seems like society has taken the honor out of the word, using it so often as a slur instead of with reverence.

I’d love to come out with it and just use the word old, but it’s usually associated with things like senility, fragility, being used up, and having no more value. When I think of an old person, I think of someone who’s set in their ways, unwilling and unable to change, and who’s prone to being crotchety. Yet that’s not me. Not by a long shot.

Perhaps I’m the wise woman who observes more and says less. After all, that’s true. I see things I never used to notice, and the impulse to act is often much quieter. It’s ok to let people struggle a little bit and figure things out for themselves – especially if they’re young and learning. And I don’t have to solve people’s problems for them.

Maybe I’m like a Thanksgiving turkey, basted, juicy, and delicious. Hmm. Not sure about that one, but I definitely get stuffed once in a while when I eat too much.

I think being a queen bee is great. Strong, regal, and having a sense of community. But even there, people often twist it to mean someone who’s a bit narcissistic. What a conundrum!

Looks like I’m going to have to pick something and own it. People will think what they’ll think. And today I’m going with calling myself an elder, as in, a tribal elder. But I won’t borrow the word tribal because it might be construed as co-opting, cultural appropriation, or as my twenty-year-old would say – stolen valor.

I’ve lived a lot of life, have a lot more to go, and have gleaned a heck of a lot of wisdom over the course of a truly amazing healing journey. I see the world through both spiritual and human lenses, and have a lot of compassion for anyone who struggles in any way. I’m definitely an elder and although I can be serious, it’s so important to be silly and have fun too.

What sort of spin do you put on words? When you think of an old tree, do you see a two-thousand-year-old Sequoia or something rotting, on its last legs? When you think of an old desk, do you see a valuable antique or a broken school desk sent out in the trash?

Today, I’m old. And not just old, but a well-seasoned, tasty, harmonious, wise elder.

And you?

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About mariner2mother

I'm a mother of a creative 20 year old son, a former merchant ship's deck officer, and a wife. To feed my creative side I take photos. I am also Reiki attuned and am a student of Energy Healing, having used several healing modalities to work on myself and my family. My most recent adventure has me navigating a very challenging Kundalini Awakening.
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8 Responses to Well Seasoned

  1. Lori says:

    Whoa. This really spoke to me. “What sort of spin do you put on words? When you think of an old tree, do you see a two-thousand-year-old Sequoia or something rotting, on its last legs? When you think of an old desk, do you see a valuable antique or a broken school desk sent out in the trash?”

    It’s as if you read my mind. I’m a few years older than you. I just hit that big number a few months ago. I’ve really . . . REALLY been struggling with it. I even sought out a counselor. I’m not used to being the elder. All my life I’ve been the younger person in my circle. Even when I became an Aunt (never had kids), I was the “young fun aunt.” Or perhaps even the “crazy aunt,” which still meant I was fun because I was more like the kids than the parents.

    I’ve been writing poem-after-poem spewing anguish over this aging thing. I’ve been crying, no, more like grieving my youth. After I thought I’d finally found myself, I discovered I don’t know who I am at this older age. I’ve been calling myself “old,” and the counselor I saw admonished me for using the word. My poetry is raw, and that counselor told me I was being too harsh about my age. I merely wrote the truth from my gut of how it felt for me. After I stopped seeing that counselor (not sure she was right for me), I’ve felt myself ever so slowly coming into acceptance. I’ve debated with myself on whether to share a poem or two on the blog. Seems a silly thing to grieve, but it is what it is. The words I quoted of yours above gave me something to think about. Thanks.

  2. Carol anne says:

    Your only as old as you feel! I’m only 42, so I hope I still have a long ways to go before I consider myself old!

  3. Dear lady, that love you have uncovered in your journey says it all. To have the wisdom of seeing beyond this world, even though still here, is love incarnate. And yes, when you see one as yourself doing a little hop and a skip on touching an old memory, you’ve earned the right to just be you too, whatever you feel. Take a bow, be what you wish, and enjoy knowing you are indeed where you know you are. Those young 50 year olds whippersnappers have a way to go to touch the beauty you have. Mind you, my 94 year old mom probably says the same thing about me being so young (I’m 63 🤣). ❤️🙏🏽

  4. Dalo 2013 says:

    I like the way you phrased this, “two-thousand-year-old Sequoia or…” And it got me thinking, and I really do see myself as a Sequoia and when the time comes when I do pass, I can be made into a valuable desk, destined to be an antique 🙂

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