40 Is (Not) the New 20
On the joy and pain of getting older
I’m currently listening to the sound of rain outside my window and I think, “Wow, the sound of rain is so nice, so calming. How come I didn’t notice it when I was younger?” Such is a conundrum of when you are young, you don’t have time or energy to stop and smell the roses — or, in my case, stop and listen to the rain. Beauty is all around us, we just need to stop and recognize it.
Last night, my husband and I watched a documentary on Netflix about a female Buddhist monk who became famous for her “temple food.” What is temple food, you ask? It’s plant-based food that this woman prepares from outside her temple in Korea, where she’s been a Buddhist monk for about ten thousand years1. In one of the greatest documentary scenes on earth, the woman lies in a sheet of perfect white snow, wrapped up like a Russian nesting doll, and spreads out her arms like she has no care in the world. On her face is a gleaming, yet gentle smile.
How is it possible, I thought, that this woman with wrinkled skin, no hair on her head and walks with a slow, indulgent stride can bend over, pull weeds, carry large bags of food, lift things from the ground and can also cook for hours on end? I go in the kitchen for 45 minutes and I’m tired. I feel like I’m about to drop. Clearly, I have so much to learn.
Is this an Asian woman thing? If so, I’m lucky to be one. Will I be lucky enough to live as long as this Buddhist monk? Or will I be relegated to the same gene pool as my mother and die of cancer in my seventies? So many questions with little to no answers.
It sounds morbid, I know, but I’ve been thinking about how aging affects me. In February I turned 41(!) which is basically an early bird ticket to a senior 55+ community. I have obvious gray hairs on my head — luckily, just a few strands, but it’s there every day, prominently displayed on the top of my head. My gray doesn’t even have the audacity to hide. It’s a jerk, which is why my husband has been telling me to get hair dye so he can help me color over it. I have yet to do so. I’m slow. Give me a break.
Aside from the gray hair, I’ve noticed how much my muscles have changed. Most likely it’s my hesitation to exercise more. I know I should go running or something and frankly, I have no excuse but I just don’t want to. I really should, though. Somebody please help me get out of bed at 5 am so I can go running.
But really, have you ever noticed how certain things in your body change as you get older? Suddenly your muscles contract in the morning and at night. You get aches and pains where you didn’t have before, and you don’t know why. For me, it’s my neck and my back. (Please do not sing that song). Suddenly your face is dry as hell, even though you’ve been diligent about moisturizing it. Your feet now feels like sandpaper, but you refuse to get a pedicure because…well, pedicures are pricey and if you’re going to have money in your retirement, you might as well save as much as you can right now, right?
Suddenly, everyone’s telling you to wear sunscreen. Duh. You’ve been wearing sunscreen for years — where has everyone else been?! You really should have been a dermatologist, you think, or some kind of health professional. You know what’s good for people like you and you’re not afraid to say it. Secretly you’re hoping that nobody notices the wrinkles on your forehead or the wrinkles around your eyes.
Watching the female Buddhist monk in that documentary, I felt a sense of…I don’t know, jealousy? I know I don’t want to ever be a monk, but I have considered a plant-based diet. I’m floored by the fact that she can survive on mung bean, bamboo, sesame seeds and tofu, amongst other plants. She relishes them like they’re gold, tending to them like babies. The way she handles the plants, from the planting to the harvesting part, is fascinating. She’s also surrounded by a plethora of lush greenery all around her, which I am absolutely 100% jealous of. That’s the beauty I’m talking about.
Perhaps that’s what’s keeping her alive and lithe for so long. Perhaps I need my own little corner of nature, or a corner for contemplation. I am, in fact, surrounded by nature. But I’m also surrounded by a Panera, an apartment complex, a lake and a bunch of houses. It’s nice. I like the mixture. That is something I didn’t have for the last six years I lived in Portland, and now that I have it, I’m not taking it for granted whatsoever.
The pain of getting older is not just the realization that your body no longer works the way it used to, and that’s perfectly okay but it’s also not okay because now, you have less time to fix it. Then again, you are also more likely to be in the moment, to recognize things you haven’t recognized before. And it is precisely this reason that I’ve been looking at sunsets and sunrises lately. They are phenomenal, I can’t gush about it enough. One of my friends sent me a photo of a sunset behind her house yesterday and I thought, “That’s it! That’s what makes life worth it — seeing beauty in the everyday.”
Even if you wake up achy like me, at least you have the sunrise.
Obviously, not that long but it sure seems like it.
I remember as a child appreciating nature, spending hours looking at bees on flowers, watching birds washing themselves in ponds and puddles, collecting autumn leaves feeding squirrels appreciating being in bluebell woods poking mushrooms with a stick. Loving the smell of rain on grass and taking deep breathes full of salt air walking on the beach.
Children notice more than adults seem to believe. But then again we had freedom to explore in safety.
It does my heart good to hear you articulate these thoughts on what makes life worth living. We should savour all the beauty in the world whatever our age. On the topic of colouring your hair, a dear friend of mine once told me that in her home country (Thailand) every grey hair is a sign of wisdom. She couldn't understand why we would want to disguise our enlightenment.