Welcome to Following the Whispers blog
Thank you so much for taking the time to visit. Hope you enjoy your stay. I blog here whenever I feel the need. This blog was created at the time my memoir came out, in February, 2009. Its motto was: creating a life of inner peace and self-acceptance from the depths of despair. Now, my focus is sharing this journey we call life.
“Only one thing is more frightening than speaking your truth, and that is not speaking it.” Naomi Wolf
“We are called human beings, not human doings.” Wes Nisker, Buddhist teacher
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs…(And) if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.” Theodore Roosevelt
Sunday, February 12, 2017
a thought about aging...
One thing keeps happening over and over again that reminds me in a most bizarre way that I'm old.
Notice I said old--not older. Last night hubby and I went to a concert at Popejoy Hall, the theater on our university campus. We have season tickets to the Broadway ovation series, so I'm used to seeing "older" adults at those performances. But last night we went to see The Australian Bee Gees -- a group out of Las Vegas doing a tribute to the Bee Gees. When we arrived at our seats, I turned to watch the throngs enter. "What the heck are these folks on walkers and in wheelchairs and with canes doing at a Bee Gees concert?" I said to hubs. "Will they even know these songs?"
That's the kicker right there. Of course they came to hear those songs because those are their songs, just as they are mine. They're my age, or close to it. Those of us who came of age in the sixties and seventies when rock n' roll was the soundtrack of the Viet Nam war, the Civil Rights Movement, the Women's movement.
What is it about aging that allows us to forget how old we are until we are jolted into a reminder like I had last night. But once the music started, did I care? Did it stop me from getting out into the aisle and dancing as if I were twenty again? It did not.
So somebody please explain how this happens? How what we feel on the inside can be so different from what everyone sees on the outside. It's weird to see old people with white hair rocking out to the music, but I wouldn't trade weird for anything. I'll take it, "Stayin' Alive."