I’m prone to unprovoked swells of joy. Have been all my life. Probably a side effect of a nervous system that makes me anxious, and has over time caused me to erupt when I might have wished to keep my own counsel. A booby prize.
The thing is, these swells had always been brought on by novelty, or at least complete immersion in my surroundings until recently. Now I find that just remembering events of my life can do the same. Is this weird? Huge swells of joy.
I mean, it applies even to the painful. The sheer fact that I have lived through it, that this time has passed through my experience, that these moments have been and are now mine, seems to do the trick. Feels like digging through a bowl of pearls, running their shiny roundnesses through my fingers. Barely perceptible grit.
Getting older can be kind of a pain. Let us list the ways. No, let us not. But if I were writing Aging, The Series, my elevator pitch would involve the effects of general water loss in our bodies–on joints, on eyes, on neurons firing in the mind, on a new porosity–but let us not.
I expected at 65 to know stuff I didn’t know when I was 20, and to call it wisdom. I do and I do. I have gotten used to calming down a bit over the decades. Very nice. I already understood that exploring our past can illuminate the present. But if the present can essentially reset the past, that would be new. To my way of thinking.
Time in our beings is fluid. At least in summertime, at least when all manner of things are well.
Have a wonderful weekend.