#on aging

[saintpoems]

brb gonna sit in silence with this for an hour

#james baldwin #writers and poets #txt #the paris review #on aging #on death #on mortality

[tundraared]

i really like when i get marks on my body that tell a story of who i am.

the marker on my fingers shows that i’ve been letting myself experiment with my art more.

the bumps on the side of my middle and pinky fingers tell you stories about the stories i spend my time writing.

my beauty marks that my mom always told me were signifiers of those that fit their title.

my dark eye bags that prompt you to tell me what they cannot: that i should rest more.

the red shape on my nose bridge left by my glasses.

I am so excited to see the etchings of a life lived become even more ingrained in my vessel for experience.

when I develop smile lines, grey hairs, and a taste for caramel, I will know of my growth.

when my body becomes a naturally-occurring collage of days upon days, I will know of my dedication.

with stories of my own to tell, I will feel okay. I will feel glad.

#journal #writing #writeblr #poetry #poetsandwriters #on aging #journal writing #writers on tumblr #journaling #poem #my poems #muji stationary #notebook #notebooks #writers and poets #commonplace journal #commonplace book #amateur writer #amateur poetry

[akindplace]

I was incredibly depressed at a point, and very suicidal. To me, making it out of my 20s will literally mean making it out alive out of time when I was dealing with awful things. Aging is a gift, as they say. I won't take birthdays as me closer to death, but as a chance to reframe my mindset and to change my life, because I get to keep on living it. That is what a birthday is supposed to mean: you are alive, you still have a chance, you are loved, celebrate that you are aging instead of being miserable about wrinkles and the over-romanticized ideal of youth. Make your life something you enjoy, you still have a chance, nothing is over yet. Make healthier choices. Enjoy yourself, really.

#self-acceptance #original writing #I will post this on my birthday #on aging #on growing older #and growing wiser #and still having a shot at life #on joy #tw depression #tw suicidal ideation

[muadweeb]

excerpts on shame -- 28/11/2018 // ask polly column, the cut

#ask polly #2018 #words #on aging #literature

[writing-for-life]

We Are Made Of Star Matter

A couple of days ago, this post flitted across my screen, and it made me think about a piece I wrote three years ago. So I just thought I’d share some personal thoughts about autumn, aging, mortality and being connected. And I’m looking at it now and recognise that there are repeating themes in there that have always resonated with me, even when I was a lot younger. Plus, for my Sandfam: There's a lot in there that resonates in that way, too...

And don’t worry, it’s not depressing. At least I hope so…

Autumn

My daughter has started doing divisions at school. Recently, on our walk back home through a very autumnal park with fallen leaves everywhere, we talked about the seasons, and how many parts of a whole each of them are individually.

»You know, humans go through seasons in their lives, too. If you assumed someone would be 80 before they died, how long would every season of their life be?«

»20 years?« She does a quick calculation in her head. »Which means I’m still in spring!«

»Pretty much so. And where am I?«

She does the numbers again. »Autumn.«

Autumn

That season when nature moves from growth and abundance to going more inward and protecting its very essence. When the outer signs and displays of renewal and fertility begin to whither away…

It would be straightforward to feel a bit uneasy about that transition. And at times, I do. I look in the mirror and see those signs: The facial features that change. The body that transitions. The change of colours (more and more greys). The daily physical pain that’s been around for quite a few years, but that I rarely talk about.

A body that slowly but surely prepares for winter. Nothing can change that, no matter how much we wish for it. No matter how much the performing arts glorify youth. No matter how sexist, misogynistic and deeply rooted in patriarchy that is. No matter how much we might lament the visible transition, or even try to stop it outwardly. We can’t. The body will do its thing, just like nature does.

It’s not a binary one of two things: Embrace it or try to escape it. It’s both, and everything in between. There are days when I wonder where time went, and what the flip happened.

However, there are as many days when I can see and appreciate the beauty of autumn. The change of colours, the giving back to where I once was and came from. But also the turning inward, the concentrating on what really matters, the getting better at preserving energy instead of incessantly expending it, the shedding of what no longer serves me. And there is goodness and beauty in that. A sense of gratitude for not having to put on the often loud display of spring and summer that’s all about, you know, proving that you have something going for you. That you’re eligible, that you are good material for the survival of the species, whatever that means individually (because it can be interpreted in many ways that go far beyond reproduction)…

At the end of the day, mortality stares us in the face once we move from summer to autumn. But isn’t that strange — it’s always been there, not just when we transition into midlife and beyond. Just like the heatwave in summer that destroys life, or the floods, or the unexpected touch of frost in spring that ends what has just begun. If I were to share the fate of the last two generations of women in my family, none of whom lived much past 60 (or didn’t even reach it), I would not even be in autumn. I would have reached the winter of my life by now.

Pánta Rheî

And maybe that’s what’s truly important. Appreciating the beauty of movement, of ebb and flow, of impermanence. The fleeting moments, no matter how much we want to hold on to them — we have to let them go, just like the tree lets go of its leaves.

However, maybe we sometimes wish time stood still, if just for a moment. Time, that arbitrary human concept that is more about perception than anything else. And yet, it’s visible, graspable, and inescapable.

I recently watched Midnight Mass (»What a strange change of subject«, you might think, but bear with me). I was apprehensive about it because I usually don’t like horror, but this one surprised me because it had many very deeply philosophical moments I didn’t expect (NB: I am not religious in any shape or form, maybe what most people would call an agnostic atheist. I can see why religious people might not like it, or might even find it offensive).

There is a beautiful moment when Erin talks about dying I’d like to share with you (you might not want to read on if you feel it would be a spoiler).

We Are Made Of Star Matter

»Myself. My self. That’s the problem. That’s the whole problem with the whole thing. That word, self. That’s not the word. That’s not right, that isn’t…

How did I forget that? When did I forget that?

The body stops a cell at a time, but the brain keeps firing those neurons. Little lightning bolts, like fireworks inside, and I thought I’d despair or feel afraid, but I don’t feel any of that. None of it. Because I’m too busy. I’m too busy in the moment, remembering.

I remember that every atom in my body was forged in a star. This matter, this body is mostly empty space after all, and solid matter. It’s just energy vibrating very slowly while there is no me. There never was. The electrons of my body mingle and dance with the electrons of the ground below me and the air I’m no longer breathing. And I remember there is no point where any of that ends and I begin.

I remember I am energy. Not memory. Not self. My name, my personality, my choices, all came after me. I was before them and I will be after, and everything else is pictures, picked up along the way. Fleeting little dreamlets printed on the tissue of my dying brain. And I am the lightning that jumps between. I am the energy firing the neurons, and I’m returning. Just by remembering, I’m returning home. And it’s like a drop of water falling back into the ocean, of which it’s always been a part.

All things… a part. You, me and my little girl, and my mother and my father, everyone who’s ever been, every plant, every animal, every atom, every star, every galaxy, all of it. More galaxies in the universe than grains of sand on the beach. And that’s what we’re talking about when we say ‘God’. The cosmos and its infinite dreams. We are the cosmos dreaming of itself. It’s simply a dream that I think is my life, every time. But I’ll forget this. I always do. I always forget my dreams. But now, in this split-second, in the moment I remember, the instant I remember, I comprehend everything at once. There is no time. There is no death. Life is a dream. It’s a wish. Made again and again and again and again and again and again and on into eternity. And I am all of it. I am everything. I am all. I am that I am.«

Whether you are comfortable with this perspective or not, it is hard not to acknowledge some simple truths behind it. During every season of our lives, but especially during autumn and winter. Maybe it’s just not the truth we want to hear when we are focused on the self. We all are to a degree, and I think that’s also natural. We seek meaning. But isn’t that meaning there by default?

Maybe, just maybe, if we remembered the complicated simplicity behind it all, we would feel more at home. Within ourselves, but also in the world, and with each other.

Alas, “Life is a dream. It’s a wish.” …

#my writing #writing #writeblr #midnight mass #on aging #autumn #panta rhei #everything flows #Erin’s soliloquy

[r0ttendoll]

The Double Standard of Aging (1972) by Susan Sontag

#susan sontag #on aging #feminism #the double standard of aging

[lunasilvis]

The fact I'm getting my 1st visible aging lines + my dog gets her 1st grey aging dog hairs in the same year... is totally what I should talk about on any social event from now till the end of the year. Underestimating me in this would be courageous

#👵🐕 we're getting old together #personal #on aging

[hislittleraincloud]

no way yoir actually 50 your fucking arounf

I was born in 1974.

40 years ago I wrote my first fan fic.

30 years ago I was getting my first tattoos.

20 years ago I stopped writing Potter fic (for the most part, I think I only wrote one since) and instead immersed myself in design work.

10 years ago my entire life blew up (again) and I'm not sure if I've ever been the same.

Inside, I've always been a cranky old man, but my spirit will probably always be trapped in adolescence. My adolescence, which was atypical in a myriad of ways.

ETA:

You might actually repeat yourself if you saw a photo of me. You'd think I was fucking with you, but as late as 2017 I was still getting carded for alcohol, at the Raleigh airport. I was told by the waitress that I looked 19...and she was about that age. At one kiosk, one of the salespeople asked me what my major was because they thought I went to Duke.

My relationship PTSD and depression have aged me since, though. Not the hair, but the face.

#i mean i'd probably be fine dropping 💀 tomorrow but my dogs wouldn't be #and neither would my stories #ack #like at least y'all know that if i permanently disappear from here and i haven't updated anything then that means i'm prob dead #unlike some ao3 authors who could be #morbid thoughts #aging #on aging #almost 50

[greeniery]

Excerpt from Edna St. Vincent Millay’s poem “Childhood is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies”, Wine From These Grapes

#poetry #poem #prose #on aging #on growing up #edna st. vincent millay #wine from these grapes #childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies

[daisynymph]

when i was a teenager i felt dread every time i thought about growing older. at 15, my world view was so small and i was genuinely so depressed that the idea of continuing to live as i was made me want end my life. however, and this feeling has been growing for a while, now that i am finally 25 and i can see how much i have done and how much more time i have left to do all that i want to do and not be condemned to an imaginary societal timeline, i am happy to be alive. i am happy to age. i am happy to have all the experiences i have witnessed and been a part of. what it means to me to live is vastly different than it was 10 years ago. i am very much ready for the next 10 years.

#alone i travel home #personal #on growing older #on aging #on life

[the-most-sublime-fool]

No matter how hard you try to be what you once were, you can only be what you are here and now. Time hypnotizes. When you're nine, you think you've always been nine years old and will always be. When you're thirty, it seems you've always been balanced there on that bright rim of middle life.

—Ray Bradbury

#ray bradbury #dandelion wine #quotes #on aging #to save

[voidtekarc]

∇ -. old age/aging headcanon

It has been a few days since Arcuris had retired from his days of adventuring, of being a bounty hunter, a mercenary, and an outlaw. He had a very rough life of finding himself after so many years, even his own origins of where he truly came from. He stared out into the sunset plains from the field next to his home, in the middle of nowhere where he and his family could be left well enough alone.

Saedre walked up next to him and stared with him, wrapping her arm around his. He smiled and drew her close to him putting his arms around her. The wind was soft, gently caressing their skin as it waved through their hair. The trees were a brilliant array of red, yellow, and orange from the autumn of where they lived. Arcuris didn't want anymore things to happen, not with children under his and Saedre's care. But it was in his interest to know he could defend his family should the need arise.

But for now, It was nice to do nothing for once.

mentions of @sharlayan-starweaver

ty for the ask @nocturne-dreamer

#Arcuris rilanox #ffxiv rp #crystal data center #mateus #garleans #asks #on aging

[leam1983]

On Being a Gamer Past your Thirties

Be me, spotting an anticipated title on Steam: "Oooh, The New Hotness 4 is out and discounted for release! Weeelll, payday's tomorrow and it falls in my Entertainment budget, so... Yoink!"

Be me, suddenly having second thoughts after hitting Play: "I clicked Play. Got past the launcher and the middleware splash screens. Uh-oh, here I go fiddling with the options... Ooooh, shit. We're in it now, Mister Inside Voice, he's clicking on New Game...

Augh. Fucking tutorials. Y'gotta teach me mechanics at 7:30 PM, game? Seriously? I've had a shit day, my balls hurt and you're expecting me to line up a crosshair, click on icons, match prompts or synergize variables? Can't you just, like, play yourself without being witty or topical or annoying like a Let's Player?"

Be me, realizing the entire medium is in a recursive loop: "Christ, this is boring. What am I gonna do, shoot mooks again? Solve puzzles again? Build up a Library of America Copy of Longfellow's Omnibus-length quest log? AGAIN?!"

Still me, remembering I bought the Myst remake: "Teeheehee, I'm so clever - I remember all the solutions by heart; I love gaming so much..."

#the dissonance #it hurts #gaming #on aging #evolving tastes #eroding interests #personal incoherences #life post

[gentleoverdrive]

(199/?) Getting off my chest, story ends.

Today I shaved my beard. My wife hates it when I'm clean-shaven for the same reason I often grow my beard: I have a really bad case of baby-face. As someone who's now 37 years old, this was for the longest time something that bothered me more than I'd like to admit. ---- I think that, as we grow older, it starts reflecting more upon our bodies and the experiences we've gone through and while I know that fundamentally it doesn't diminish the years of crazy shit I've put myself through this life for whatever reason I've chosen along the way, I just... kinda wish it would reflect upon my face as well. ---- I don't know, maybe I'm just being dumb and fixating upon something which, in the long term, doesn't really matter. But I'm tired, and I just wish that, instead of looking like I'm still 19-20, that my face would reflect a bit better upon what I've been through. See ya' later, alligator!

#diary #daily life of an old shithead #saosin reference #WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT. FINALLY GETTING INTO ONE OF MY RECURRING BAD HABITS: SAOSIN! #'Translating the Name' is 15 minutes of perfect emo #just perfect #some youtuber once said that anthony green could read the telephone directory and still find a way to have you swooning #that youtuber was not wrong #like I love gerard way #but anthony green's voice is basically a manic pixie dream girl (or guy) all by itself. that's how insanely charismatic he is! #on aging #looking the part #or failing at it #I don't like beards #and I hate giving people the impression that I'm some stoner dude #I mean I DO like stoner and sludge metal but c'mon

[septemberkisses]

the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.

#was rereading the hunger games series when this thought hit me like a truck #it beautiful #its haunting #its heartbreaking #its melancholic #quotes #dark academia #books and reading #books & libraries #books #young adult #ya books #young adult books #movies #coming of age #the hunger games #the divergent series #the maze runner #the fault in our stars #musings #midnight musings #thoughts #mine

[doccywhomst]

#i’ve been thinking abt that cringe post #i think the latent feelings behind ‘cringe’ are shame and sometimes envy/bitterness #same vibes as when six year olds say ‘those toys are for babies’ if they’ve been shamed for their age by older kids #anyway. i think part of the healing process is realizing that shame puts you at war with yourself bc part of yourself is a social being! #and that part of you wants community and acceptance (maybe love). shame is the absence of acceptance #unlearning shame means learning self-love and gaining the confidence to find your people #jerma #cw jerma #(someone asked me to tag lol)