Monday Prompt

Aging? You’re Welcome to it. I prefer to Evolve, Thank You Very Much!

Or reinvent myself every ten years

It’s been a year of COVID, for example, but I don’t feel any older.

A lot has happened.

I’ve welcomed the sheltering opportunity, secluded myself indoors, practically become a hermit. But I don’t feel any older.

Wiser, but intimidated by the likes of an invisible, microscopic, contagious, fairly aggressive particle. But I don’t feel any older.

I’ve learned a lot through classes, focused on my writing, Medium as well as fiction, written prolifically. But I don’t feel any older.

I’ve gone on my daily walks, kept up with friends and family via Zoom, been over-active in my church, and even lost ten pounds. But I don’t feel any older.

Tired yes, sleep-deprived, yes, lighter on my feet, yes, angry at my loosey-goosey boundaries and other ways I manage to fritter away my precious time.

But I still don’t feel any older.

In fact, in many ways, I feel very young. Like a kid. Like a teenager. Eager to learn, experience new things — within reason, excited about the next chapter of my life — whatever it might be. For which I’m grateful.

Motivational coach Barbara Sher would have described me as a scanner. Though I prefer author Margeret Lobenstine’s The Renaissance Soul. Don’t make me settle into one niche, please!

My interests and passions cover quite a wide swath of ground. From contemplation to Commedia, humor to humility, rabble-rousing to recovery, politics to puppetry, Shakespeare to Shindler, mysticism to witticisms, and just about everything in between.

Even though I don’t feel any older mentally, my body feels it. I am slowing down a bit. The kyphotic curvaceousness of my spine means I’m actually getting shorter.

This might be a good graphic metaphor for my life.

But I don’t want to admit I may have peaked at 5’2” any more than I want to admit I might have peaked at any specific age, like say 50 — a nice round number that’s half a hundred.

I want to see myself as still on the way up.

After all, my mom is almost 91 and still going strong. Her dad lived 97 years!

I’m not aging; I’m evolving!

So rather than say I’m aging — which might be technically true — I like to say I’m evolving. Or as Diana C’s prompt says, elevating. Even while my body shrinks, my consciousness elevates and expands, and my whole being evolves.

I believe that this, more than anything, may explain why I keep getting the intuitive hit to get off the island. My consciousness isn’t being expanded by anything offered at my church currently. We haven’t had very many classes during COVID. Some of our best teachers have moved on.

That’s why I keep asking myself If it’s time for me to move on.

I’m feeling a bit stifled. Under stimulated and overtasked. Scared to get sucked down a rabbit hole I won’t be able to extract myself from.

When I step back and look at my life, I see some patterns. One of them is, I tend to reinvent myself every ten years.

By that I mean, I make big changes.

My marriage lasted about ten years. My previous two involvements with churches each lasted about ten years. Thinking back, I left each of them with a clear sense of what wasn’t working and what I was looking for spiritually.

Knowing what I needed and wanted made a huge difference.

It helped when the Unitarian church ministers up and announced one day that they’d just taken a new position in St. Paul, Minnesota. Heck, if they were on their way out, why should I agonize over my exit. That stopped the guilt trip in its tracks.

My archetypal selves decade by decade:

In the 1970s, I was a Hippie-Student with a fringy lifestyle, living in Ohio and New York City. In the 80s, I became a Card-Carrying Commie, studying Marxist philosophy, being a cadre anchored in the labor movement.

In the 90s, I became a Righteous Recoverer, thanks to Sex and Love Addicts Anonymous, atoning for the way I busted out of my rigid, tightly controlled lifestyle.

This led me to the Unitarian Church, where I combined activism with spiritual exploration, sprinkled with Goddess rituals and poetic expressions.

In the 2000s, I became a Metaphysical Mentor, working with teenagers and writing for the stage and screen. I tried dating, Buddhism, and Lindy Hopping.

I let a serious car accident mess me up for dancing — out of fear, I’m sure.

In the 2010s, I left that church to work with a visionary practitioner. I landed at my current church to support the new minister, a friend of mine. I did not have the gumption to leave when she, did which was about five years ago.

That was also the decade I retired from Occupational Therapy, studied improv, and turned a favorite screenplay into a novel — the one I’m putting final edits on.

What shall I call this phase of my life? Hand-Holding Hannah? Stressed-Out Stella? Over-committed Olivia? Fragmented Frieda? That’s how I feel most days. Yet I could also be the Wonder Writer, the Bionic Blogger, or the Prolific Pen.

Now, it’s a new decade. Time to reinvent myself yet again? And if so, from what, to what?

I just bought a Sacred Rebels Oracle deck.

The juxtaposition of those two concepts — Sacred Rebels — speaks to me. The deck has a card for the Sacred Fool, which is what attracted me to it in the first place.

Here’s what creator Alana Fairchild says about the Sacred Fool:

This oracle brings you a message: It’s time for you to play. It’s time for you to let life happen in a completely unreserved, unscripted way. The more bizarre, left-of-field, unexpected, and utterly ridiculous, the better.

This might not feel safe or appropriate at first. That is okay. That is good, actually. It is a sign that you are breaking with your own self-imposed conventions. It is time to move beyond them now because a larger life adventure calls to you.

While I don’t have a clear sense of direction yet, I feel the opening, the calling, the sensation that I am being prepared for a bigger journey. That its time to stretch, experiment, explore, expand.

If that means getting off an island psychically, so be it. Note to self: Leap and let the wings appear!

Thank you so much, 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘊., for great prompts as always!

Marilyn Flower writes political humor and satire to delight socially and spiritually conscious folks. She’s a regular columnist for the prison newsletter, Freedom Anywhere, where she writes about faith and prayer. Five of her short plays have been produced in San Francisco. Clowning and improvisation strengthen her resolve during these crazy times. Stay in touch!