Posts Tagged ‘Advice’

Waving the White Flag

May 23, 2012 30 comments
Age like a fine wine

Age like a fine wine (Photo credit: derekGavey)

Strike at the heart of the beast! Show no mercy!

Why do people feel compelled to do battle with all things related to aging? Hair gets colored, as if having gray hair is shameful. Young, nubile women begin getting Botox before the age of 30; begin using anti-wrinkle creams in their 20’s.

Have we come to despise these signs of having lived past our teen years?

My hair gleams with gray sprinkled throughout from years lived and loved.  Hard work went into the making of those signature hairs. Why should shame be associated with them?

Small lines have taken up residence around my mouth. Are they caused by laughing too much? If so, my favorite past-time will continue to occupy me. Laugh lines are far better in my estimation than facial stress fractures.

The reasoning behind this abhorrence of aging escapes me. My entire experience here on Planet Earth was lived at the same moment—the one in which I am aware. Age has rarely meant anything to me.

At age twelve, people treated me as 19-20. When nineteen came along, people assumed I was in my mid-20’s. By the time my 30’s arrived, most of my friends were in their early 20’s. Even now, I have few real friends my own age. I know plenty of people in their 50’s and 60’s, but those whom I call true friends are of all ages, from the very young to those in their late seventies and older.

It’s always been my contention that age is only a marker for statistical purpose. The body may have tell-tale signs of wear and tear. But the me operating this body has no age, except the one I inside my head.

The question which needs to be posed to a person is: If you’re so unhappy to reach your current age that you need to reconstruct your body to hide your experience, is reconstruction likely to erase your unhappiness?

Does one’s happiness depend on the physical representation of the person inside? After all, our bodies are only the vessels, which carry us around on this planet. Is our preoccupation with conforming to culture’s definition of beauty the only path to self-satisfaction and acceptance? Must we all be life-sized, unrealistic Barbie’s and Ken’s in order to be accepted as vital, beautiful, and worthwhile? If so, aren’t we all waving a white flag; surrendering our individuality and uniqueness in favor of a cultural impossibility?

Writers deal with this issue each time they develop a character, put together narrative description, or poetry. We devote much time and page space to beauty in one form or another. Have you ever wondered just how deeply our brains’ hard-wiring goes, if all cultures, races, and ages consider this one aspect of life as this important?

What do you think about our demand for physical perfection and beauty? I’m looking for opinions on this topic. Are we the total of our body parts, or do we have an innate value and beauty than has nothing to do with our outer shells?

You tell me. Leave a comment. Take a stand.

A bientot,



Rejection: A Poet’s Best Friend?

April 8, 2012 8 comments

Poets are like country singers; telling stories about troubled times, love, and personal angst. Along with all that is rejection. And that’s what was called for on Poetic Asides this morning.

Rejection comes in all shapes, sizes, and attitudes. The longer the connection between the beginning of a relationship and the end helps determine the magnitude of the rejection felt by the one left behind. Whether a person is the one being rejected or something that the person created, the impact is the same. Creator identifies with her creation just as strongly as lovers are connected in a relationship.

My offerings for today on this subject speak from both sides of the equation; the rejecter and the rejectee. Enjoy!

The Tangled Web

It began with a tiny thing;

A lie of that day’s convenience.

A first strand in the web you wove

To make yourself important, and

Disguise truth you could not bare shown.

More silk strands followed to entrap

The weaver in tales unforgotten,

By those brought to emotions ruined.

Thoughtless weaving. Strands delusions,

All make to tangle the weaver.

Go now into your web of lies.

Seek only new fools to believe.

Whisper’s Allure

Whisper soft came your urgings,

Touching deep inside with needs unmentioned,

Taking time to root beneath wall of safety,

Moving toward ultimate takeover.

“Can you hold me?”  you asked in the dark,

Whisper soft came your urgings,

Never breathing a hint of your design,

Taking my faith in love for granted.

I fell, quickly to your lumberman’s saw,

My need to fulfill those of yours, even as your

Whisper soft came, your urgings

Driving me further from myself and my haven.

Soon you left me behind, crumpled and weary,

Broken on the steps of love’s temple sublime,

Never to understand why now after

Whisper soft came your urgings.

Happy Easter, everyone. May you have a lovely day with those whom you love.

As always my work is copyrighted, so for those who’d like to use it elsewhere, please ask permission first. Thank you.

© Claudette J. Young 2012