I am entering what I call the Wild Grey. It has taken a lifetime to arrive to the last third of my life. I want to take the best of what I’ve learned, discard what is unnecessary and distill into being the essence of who I am. I want to embrace the paradox of aging. Wild Grey sums that up for me:
Wild means enthusiastic, crazy, windswept, untamed, natural, fierce, outrageous and fresh again like the desert abloom.
Grey means old, dreary, overcast, ancient, time worn and even scruffy.
Wild Grey is a paradox. Aging itself is a paradox full of contradictions and ironies. Yet, the Wild Grey paradox is a spiritual space such as Rilke suggests in his poem, “As once the winged energy of delights,” Take your practiced powers and stretch them out until they span the chasm between two contradictions… For the god wants to know himself in you. I am embracing aging through the lens of paradox. I am both time worn and fresh again.
I am Wild Grey.
Aging, of course, is age-old and only happens if we’re lucky. Yet at the same time, aging is always new. At least to the individual becoming old. I’m sixty-three. I am young to aging. The sixties are the new forties or so they say. This feels like denial to me formally trained. I am humbled not only by those who have aged before me but for the journey still ahead. How do I want to show up? I am not new to paradox. I’ve confronted the contradictions in my life both by fighting and embracing them, learning lessons both ways. I appreciate each human odyssey starts with a palate of circumstance and with our choices, each of us create a totally unique life and understanding of the world.