Tuesday, March 17, 2015
Aging Lazily and Crazily.
Three Dog Night - Shambala
At times, it seems to me I've been returned to being a child again.
I'm catching up on all those years of sleep deprivation with a career and single motherhood, etc. Within limits, of course. As I do have municipal and other duties to fulfil. But one of the bonuses of my age is that I can sleep when I want and nearly where I want. For who pays attention to an old woman's nods?
I can also read. Any time. I would squash in reading for pleasure on weekends and before sleep. Now I read over breakfast. I try to get in 100 pages a day. And I toss books that bore me. I don't feel any obligation to them whatsoever no matter how "good" others think them.
And knit: I knit not out of necessity but out of interest and the old fire in the soul. I can make crazy things, like door and window worms.
And write: when, where, how I want.
And speak my mind. I really don't give a rat's anymore what you think of me and my feminist, atheist stances. My beliefs are solid now. Honed on the whetstone of my life experiences and pain.
I get time to grieve. Even over things like the keyboardist, Jimmy Greenspoon, from Three Dog Night that I tried to imitate on my own piano back in the day. He made me fly, dance and sing and base one of my own unpublished, unperformed musical dramas on one of his pieces. And it seems like I pull in all the other grief of this 2015 on top of Jimmy and do it all over again in a series of tidy sob packages. Who sees and who cares?
I've come to the conclusion that I really like my own company and at my age that is a good thing. I am comfortable with my own vibrations.
I can amuse myself for hours just putzing around this old place which will never be featured in Good Housekeeping. Ever.
I like the no rules aspect of it all, the freedom.
The priceless freedom of my days.
I've never been more ME.