Some friends from New York City gave me a gift this morning, two pieces of an old tin roof in a wooden frame. It is a beautiful gift, I will find a place for these beautiful images in my office. I am not drawn to nostalgia, but I confess I would love to live in a world where craftsmen and artists took the time and trouble to make ceilings so beautiful.
There is more craftmanship in these two pieces of a tin celing than in many homes built today. They will remind me of the power and beauty of creativity, I cannot recall the last time I looked up at a ceiling and saw anything so beautiful A sweet birthday gift.
“As a white candle in a sacred place, so is the beauty of an aged face.” – Joseph Campbell
Aging demands great change. It commands me to let go of my old life, of my idea of life, of my expectations for life. It brings me to the most powerful kind of liberty that exists in the world.
It asks of me that I face the absolute truth about my self, collect what I have seen and learned, and share it with those who wish to receive it. Every aged person is a teacher, he or she has seen life.
Tomorrow, I will be 69, entering my seventh decade on the world. Campbell says we must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is awaiting us. I am letting go.
Aging may take my life, but it will also bring me a new life, if I awaken and accept the call. Aging for me is an initiation into the process of profound transformation, a transformation of self and of consciousness, perhaps even of life. As with so many things in life, it can be a portal into fear, complaint, regret and lament, or it can be my most challenging and exhilarating experience.
We walk into a new world, a new way of thinking and being. It is up to me to accept this call, and to walk with an open heart through the door. It is a time of great liberation, of wisdom, of perspective. It can be a time of great creativity, or of stasis and nostalgia and regret. That is up to me.
For most of our lives, we watched in puzzlement, concern, sometimes disgust as we saw our parents and so many others vanish into the aging process, we never imagined it would one day be us. The sometimes cruel miracle of aging is that you cannot imagine it when you are young, but you will always remember being young when you are old.
In a sense my life began just nine years ago, I cannot recall a single birthday of my sixty other years before that, it is as if I was born anew, when I began to awaken, a call I accepted with joy. It is never too late to awaken, it is never too late to find love.
We either awaken and live our lives and follow our bliss or we slumber, we lead a substitute life, a life chosen for us and defined by others, what T.S. Eliot called the hollow life. Aging is another awakening, for me, a beginning, not an end. Life is a calling, not a task.
The aches and pains in my body do not define or identify me, they are not the currency and dialogue of my life, they are mine alone to navigate and transcend, they are part of life. They are the most private parts of my soul. No one will know me by them.
Aging is a door, I can walk proudly and with dignity through it, or I can hide from it, close my eyes and run away. I see everywhere the beauty of the aged faces, I did not see them before. I have finally learned enough about life to begin to live it fully and well, and to never waste a single day.
And every minute I have left in this world is precious and sacred, which means life is sacred.
I am free of last, dipping my toe in the sweet stream of liberation. When I no longer live in desire and anger and fear, then the doors of the world will open for me, doors I never saw or new existed. They are opening now. Ambition has little meaning for me now, fear seems much besides the point.
I accept the call to change, for me the new meaning of the birthday.
The summer sky is beautiful and defiant today, I can begin to see the light changing, the angle of the sun soften, the days beginning to get shorter, the first whiff of October Light. As a photographer, I am much more sensitive to changes in the light than I used to be or needed to be. This beautiful summer sky (an IR Photo) is telling me that it is the beginning of the end for the summer.
I spent most of the night with a beautiful woman lying beside me – she was asleep – and with Yorkshire Police Sgt. Catherine Cawood, the star of Happy Valley, a dark, beautiful and riveting police drama on Netflix. Maria bailed out after a few minutes, she said it was unbearably dark. My editor Rosemary Ahern recommended it, and Rosemary is mild-mannered and literary. I am surprised she loves it.
I quickly became addicted to it, I watched five episodes in a row, it was 5 a.m. when I looked at the clock and realized I had been up all night, obsessed with Cawood (Sarah Lancashire’s) riveting portrayal of a police officer, mother and grandmother fighting to catch the rapist and psychopath who murdered her daughter.
Normally, this would be too dark for me, but I couldn’t stop watching. I finally turned it off as the first light was showing on the horizon, and got a few hours sleep. I never binge on TV, we don’t even own a TV, I was up in the dark with my Iphone watching this show, I just couldn’t stop. Then, of course, I couldn’t sleep.
Somehow, it was worth it. I am in love with this show, and it is dark, for sure. But very powerful portrayal of a strong woman determined to do good in the face of overwhelming and sometimes horrifying odds. Maria was astonished to wake up just as I was going asleep. Nap time.
Meanwhile, our wildflower garden is blooming, led by the beautiful Cosmos flowers. Our house is ringed with color.
A few years ago, I developed a new birthday tradition. On the day before my birthday I give presents to the people I love in my life. I went to Jack’s Outback this morning and bought a 200-year-old spice box for Maria, I imagine she will love to have a place to store her pins and small metal hummingbirds and beautiful stones and crystals. Maria collects everything beautiful, and throws nothing away and much of it becomes art.
She always needs boxes and bins to store things. She is with friends this morning, I’ll surprise her when she gets home.
My other gifts to her today is an old office desk lamp (I might borrow it as a nighttime reading lamp, and tickets to a Wendy Wassterstein play – an American Daughter – this afternoon at the Williamstown, Mass, Theater Festival.
I shouldn’t be the only one who gets presents on my birthday, the people who have to put up with me should get some as well.
I went online and bought my granddaughter some baby toys – she is due next week – and I have a present for my friend Scott. The dogs got some beef jerky. Tomorrow, she is taking me to an inn in Woodstock, Vermont for a night and out to dinner, we will be back Tuesday morning. She has also been making something for me in her magical studio.
This morning, I went to a friend’s house to help them train a Great Pyrenees dog who lives in an apartment in Manhattan. A tough thing for a dog bred to live outside among sheep day and night all year round. I have to say they are doing a wonderful job, they know it isn’t the best breed for the city, but they are doing their best to make his life work and are prepared to get him to a farm if it doesn’t work. Given the progress I see, I believe they will make it work.
I love giving and I love receiving. I won’t pretend I don’t like presents – and thank you many good people who have stuffed my Post Office Box all week with birthday wishes and cards. They are lovely and beautiful and I am humbled by them.
But more than anything on my birthday, I love giving presents to the people I love and who love me. It is the best birthday tradition yet for me. I love this spice box, Maria is much drawn to the spice of life itself, I think she will like it.
