Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Hold onto your hat

and let's hope it's not one of those silly red ones that older women wear to tea parties. I mean, it's cute, but I'm just not READY YET.

I am at that age; you know, the one where a woman becomes "a woman of a certain age" and men buy new red sports cars. Or acquire tattoos, mistresses, and other obsessions. My particular riff on it is to dream of amazing sex that will burn away all my fear and grief, Poof! like magic.

Here's a cosmic, comic twist (try saying that several times really fast.) I was driving down Highway One this afternoon in the sparkling winter sunlight, ruminating over this post, and who should I see driving north in a flashy red Italian sports car, but a local gent (and internationally recognized silver fox) named.... Ted Turner!

Hmmm, I wonder how I can get him to look at this blog???

Isn't he a nice man?

Because Big Sur is such an itty bitty fish pond, folks like Mr. Turner really, really stand out, and they can pop up at the oddest moments.

Seriously, it's not getting older that bothers me that much; I'm fit and have good health (knock on wood.) I love to dance and hike, and take pleasure in going deeper with friends in heart-felt conversation. Depth increases with age, I believe. The perspective I have today should be wiser than the one I used to navigate my 20's. You think? Think again!

Here's one way of dealing with decades old insecurity: try to control everything, and when that fails (as it always does), act out! It's shocking how that 25 year old woman is still inside me, fuming, sitting on so much despair. I bang the drum of my discontent until what I love runs into the hills and hides.

At life's mid-way point (assuming I'll live to be 92) it's inevitable that I look at what I've accomplished, and what I still need (and WANT) to do in order to make a graceful exit someday. So, an obligation for self-reflection and a deep longing to make it all better, really fast, using old habits that don't work anymore.

This scenario can certainly precipitate a crisis, at any age. Hey, I'm not alone! There are 43 million American women aged 40 to 60. I think we all could use some time on the fainting couch.

photo by Charles Dodgson, aka Lewis Carroll, 1872

During this transformative time, I take comfort in the beauty of Big Sur, asking her to please be my true love. The warm breeze off the mountain, the damp grass on my bare feet, the falling stars, and the great, mothering expanse of the ocean, nurture me in a way that mere mortals simply can't.

Nature, as the purest manifestation of god, is love. She can also be a bitch, which just means we need to appreciate her tender moods as much as we can.

According to one source, the “average age at onset of a self-described 'mid-life crisis' is 46. Mid life crises last about 3-10 years in men and 2-5 years in women."Is this you?

Do you have a mid-life story to tell? Go ahead, post a comment...

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