Musings as I Bid Farewell to Being Forty-Something

Behind the scenes. . .as sunset approaches (Bolinao, Pangasinan; 2017)

(Facebook memory reminded me of this note that I shared eight years ago, based on a reflection I wrote exactly a month before I turned 41.) 

I think and think, 

Ask myself, think more, and ponder on it deeper still

Wanting to know how and why

they say that “life begins at 40!”

Is it the physical changes -

the hormonal rollercoaster or

the lumps and cysts growing

where we would rather be sucked or licked?

Or could it be the double vision reluctantly worn,

the resistance only calmed by the kind optometrist’s admonition

that “it’s part of one's developmental stage” rather than a disease?

Or could it be in this longing-for-something-more

that we seem to know not of,

the unsettling feeling of not being at home

even if we are inside the privacy of our own bedroom?

What life is it they’re talking about

when our moods swing from north to south and east to west

and when we start behaving like someone we don’t know?

And the quiet answer from the deep well within

comes like a gentle ray of the sun and a quiet breeze: 

“Yes, there’s life in all these. Yes life is born in all these.”

For is it not through our body’s upheavals

that we learn to pay attention to the messages of our body?

Is it not when our body begins to act out

and grow what we would not want it to grow

that we become a friend to our body and

question how we are probably abusing the vessel that holds our soul? 

Is it not then that we truly get to know our body in a deep way?

The body becomes MY body.

Is it not through our double vision that we learn

to question the way we see things

and realize it’s wisdom more than intellect and our five senses

that we need in order to make sense of life and the chaos within?

And doesn’t the double vision remind us

that some things don’t deserve our attention,

while others do need to be magnified?

There is life in all these. . . even in the darkness we see in ourselves.

Some call it midlife journey;

others call it existential loneliness;

still others call it angst.

Whatever one wants to call it,

in my 40s, I have learned this darkness and chaos is a friend.

Only a friend can teach us with such fierceness and blatancy

that in this loneliness we discover the greatest friend we have

and that this friend’s name is “I.”

In this chaos we can’t resolve nor run away from,

we learn that real strength’s shining moment

is not when we can solve all life’s problems

but when we can live with questions and problems

whose answers elude us.

Isn’t it in the moments when we face our what-could-have-beens

and look in the eye the many lives we have always wanted but never had

that we stumble upon the real meaning of our life?

Don’t these moments become distilling and alchemical processes

which transform us in a deeply personal way

and which open our eyes to our heart’s deepest desires

and to the real purpose and meaning of our existence?

As frustrations mount from betrayals raised-from-the-dead

and losses both grieved and ungrieved,

don’t we realize that our true strength lies

in the friend we have within,

in the truth within that holds us together,

and in the hope we keep aflame in our hearts in the darkest of nights?

And don’t we then discover our real soul-sisters

and kindred spirits on the journey?

Don’t these quiet storms bring us to pillars of courage and hope

to work for something beyond and above Me and I

and the narrow confines of my home?

Lessons learned in my 40s, lessons that 40s ushered in

And like river that flows abundantly into the vast ocean

Teachers continue to pour in everyday

both in the mundane and the extraordinary.

Yes, life begins at 40. . . if we let it,

if we are brave enough to die

and be re-created into the uniquely wonderful person
God has meant for each of us to be.