Identity

Turning 59 this year, I can see 60 there on the horizon, like a glow behind the horizon before the sun rises.  It has been a surprise to me, how quickly these years have galloped past, leaving the child behind in the dust.  When I catch up with my own self, I see she has changed, deepened and widened with grief and strength, laughter and wisdom.

If I look over my shoulder at the years, I see so many different lives, identities I picked up along the way to fit into a niche, to find a home, to belong.  Observing my grandchildren, there is a smile that comes to my lips as I watch them forge their own identities, as they find their power-place in the world.

The ego has been on my mind these days, considering the importance of having one, in order to be willing to take risks, forge ahead, determine to be strong and ignore what others may say or think.  And then also realizing how often I should simply drop my ego identity, especially when I am in the presence of my friends and family.  Does it really matter whether or not I am right?  Do I truly care if others understand me?  Do I need to fit in?  No, no and no.  In some ways identity works for me and in other ways it is a deterrent to a life of freedom and peace.

As a middle child, I often strove for attention, the spotlight, the competition, in order to be seen.  Now, in these afternoon years, I love the invisibility that attends my silver hair.  I adore the quietness of nothing happening and the time to sit and do whatever I want.  I see that in life it is never all or nothing, black and white, right or wrong.  It is sometimes and both and relative and perspective.  It is maybe and probably and whatever.  I love the balance that is approaching.  Let me be wild or tame, kind or cruel, well or ill.  It is all the same in the end, just pebbles in the path I'm walking on.