A is for Age

A is for AGE

Age is referred to in so many different ways.  There is a chronological age, a mental age, an emotional age, a spiritual age…and the list can go on and on depending on who decides to set it up and for what purpose.

I remember being seven years old and hating it.  I was not old enough to play with the big kids and was too old to play with what I considered the babies—aged 6 and younger.  So as I progressed from age seven to eight, when asked how old I was I would reply that I was 7 and 1/4 years old, or later 7 and 1/2 years old.  Then I became 7 years and 7 months old and so on until I reached the glorious age of 8 years old and found out the ones I so wanted to hang out with had also gotten a year older and still didn’t want me following them around or joining them.  Ah, the pain…

Then life moved from being measured less on chronological age and into mental age and prowess.  By fifth grade, I was reading on a high school sophomore level—at least 15 years old.  That made me mature.  Really?  What else is a loner going to do besides escape in the beautiful world of reading where there are friends and adventures and the universe to be a part of?  So mentally, I was much older than my chronological age.  Whoopee!  Now I was a real loner!

My emotional age was less because my “people circle” was limited.  I was deemed emotionally underaged because I couldn’t seem to get past the beliefs I held in magic, a kinder and more loving world, and the fairness that would be had by all, regardless of skin color, education, sex, economic status, and such things as that.  I also hadn’t matured past seeing things in black and white, right and wrong, fair and unfair.  I delusionally held to the ideas of equality and goodness of hearts.  I thought bad should be punished and good rewarded.  Yes, definitely emotionally immature for my chronological age.  I don’t think I’ve gotten over that hurdle yet, honest truth.  I still believe in goodness, kind hearts, magical miracles such as a night passing and the sun rising to bring a whole new day of possibilities.  I feel animals’ souls, human souls, a desire to right wrongs and anger at injustice and intolerance toward other hearts.  I’ve been told to “Grow up!” and I guess I’m still stuck.  I have to admit, looking around, I’ll take being  immature enough to live my way.

By spiritual standards, I have been called “an old soul.”  I haven’t figured out why I would be called “an old soul” and thus older spiritually anymore than why I am deemed emotionally immature.  Is it because I feel connected to everything around me?  What I deem a sort of magic?  I feel others’ pain, joy, frustration, fears.  Deeply and emphatically.  I see what could be for the person, myself, and I strive to make it a reality.  My soul reaches out to other souls.  Does empathy make one spiritually older?  Who knows?  I don’t.

My inner workings have no age of any kind.  The body is in its 60s.  The inside essence is whatever age fits the situation.  I can observe an ant moving around for a long, long time.  I can watch the waves roll in, crash, creep silently onto the sand and pull back and feel every bit of it with my whole being.  The ocean speaks to me, the sand comforts my physical body, and my heart opens agelessly and with hope as my little dog licks my face in love.

Age.  How old are you?  But more, by whose standards are you a specific age defined?  Do others tell you to “grow up” or chide you as not being “realistic” about things?  Age doesn’t mean growing up.  Age doesn't require cynicism.  Age is imposed on us, all of us.  Maybe we should all be like Peter Pan—and say, “I won’t grow up!”  Just think of the fun ahead! 

BE AGELESS