Life at 79

Persephone’s Tears (Revisited) © 2006 Lee Anne Morgan

On August 27, I begin my 79th year, and today I arrive in your inbox bearing gifts with words, a video, and images. I see the horizon of my eighth decade before me, one I ponder with wonderment.

A tectonic shift has occurred within. I may lose all humility in what I’m about to say, but mystery, curiosity, and eagerness interlace with everything I do now. Perhaps I’ve earned Cronehood status with a soupçon of sageness? Wouldn’t that be grand?

The world groans with sorrow, and my heart beats with concern and compassion, doing what I can. Yet every particle in the universe is impermanent and will change, so I choose to see the beauty in the world and my life instead of watering seeds of frustration, anxiety, and discontent.

I am free—to be wild, weird, wonderfully wicked, sensual, loving, and creative.

I know who I am—finally.

I understand my full powers as a woman—finally.

Fear has no home in me. Fearlessness does.

I accept what I can and cannot do for others and the world.

I know simple things make me happy: candlelight at dusk, especially in the winter, the scent of incense burning, our Goddess Mother Earth, birdsong in the mornings, leaves falling, the first snow, freshly brewed Assam tea, puppies and kittens—and more.

I cherish the slower, measured pace of my early morning walks along the river and through our historical village.

The wrinkles and spots sketched upon my face and body are as beautiful to me as the bark of a tall old pine tree.

I am profoundly grateful for my family, biological and extended through friends and neighbors as most of us embark on this aging oddessy—together.

I do not deny the challenges of aging, but I also look for gifts that can only come with age. I am emerging from a chrysalis and cannot wait to see the pattern painted upon my wings!

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