The Gift of 50




I thought that turning 50 meant the gift of a wakeup call.  Here was a shockingly clear marker defining the last half of my life.  There were 50 years of life spent, spent, spent.  "Wake up," 50 said.  "It's slipping away."  "Pay attention."  Although happy and feeling saturated in the moment, I also sometimes felt as if my hands were outstretched, fingers grasping at the ephemeral substance of time, trying to hold it still.  It was the primary reason I started this blog.  I needed to pay attention by recording my days and experiences through words and photographs.  I marked time by trying to remember details and focus on the moments of my day.

It came to me the other day, that the very act of that grasping makes time even more evanescent.  The energy it takes to notice the fact if its passing chases it farther instead of keeping the moment close. The bittersweet irony of time.  Like a dream.  Instead, immersing oneself in the moment by living it, and forgetting about how quickly the moment is passing, makes the moment the most realized.  Just gulp the moment and swallow and love it and move on to the next.

Comments

  1. It's so true that yesterday is gone and tomorrow isn't here yet. We can only live in the moment, and cherish it.

    Someone once said that life is like a roll of toilet paper -- the closer it gets to the end, the faster it goes. I guess we need to find a way to slow it down. :-)

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  2. Hi Jennifer

    savour each moment as they tend to grow shorter...have fun in the blue kayak


    Happy days

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  3. I'm turning 50 next year and was also hoping for an epiphany -- something to show me how to live the next 50. Perhaps I'll just have to settle for a month spent in France and Belgium, and alowing whatever happens to happen.

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  4. Jo - That's it exactly; how to get it to slow down. And, my revelation that too much attention, or the wrong kind of attention, is not the way.

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  5. Delwyn - Agreed, and also keeping the best perspective.

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  6. Lianne - I believe you will. 50 for me was and is a good place. Also, the day I turned 50 I felt in my bones that had reached the end of accepting b***sh**. "I've had it, and I'm not going to take it anymore." Zero tolerance.

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