I LOVE aging.
I love the piles of adventures and experience;
I love learning (at last) more about what my body will and will not put up with; when to push it and when to coddle it; when it complains out of laziness or is speaking of what it really needs.
I love listening: to my body, to my heart, and to rain and crickets and vocal harmony, and to the tears of a friend.
I love love love learning about (and in) relationship: with my wife, with friends, teachers, strangers…whomever. All of them are buddhas; likely or unlikely, I learn from them all. That was not always the case.
I love being able to translate these things and the life lessons they brought, into the chart that has become my spiritual and ethical center.
AND my capital E ego can still cringe at times. Even bleed a little. What makes it different now is the perspective that aging brings. What would have been a huge cause for major drama and lament only a few years ago, is now just a little scratch. It doesn’t need a bandage anymore. It just reminds me that I am still in a human body and still dancing with that ego. And I can smile and think, how wonderful that I am still learning. And that, now – usually sooner rather than later - I can tell when my dance partner is that Ego and when it is a better part of me.
I would not trade my years for anything at all.