Dying Roses
Posted by Julie Martin | Filed under Living philosophy | Comments Comments (10)
Even as they are dying, I see the beauty in the red velvety roses that sit on my desk. Their grace is even more vibrant, desirous at 2 days past being thrown out. They tell a story with their now rough, burnt edges. They sing a song as they patiently wilt, slowly fall apart.
A song of their acquired imperfections. I take note. Not one complains of losing petals.
It makes me question, have I been able to see that in my Mother’s death? Will I be able to witness the beauty of his life when I inevitably experience my fathers passing? My own?
Is the grace of a life more evident once it’s gone, revisited in photo’s and reminiscence?
Can I observe what emerges as the body slowly deteriorates headed towards the final act of a long (or sometimes short) play? Society’s obsession with youth and beauty has blinded itself.
I want to rejoice in the wisdom that is gained with age. To celebrate feeling love, excitement, curiosity and the sweetness of pain and frustration more intensely as I get older. Perhaps because now I understand it more clearly.
Physically we soften around the edges, but the light shining in our eyes glows with the grace of knowledge.
I witness my father, now a fit, healthy 75 years. But I feel frustration when he doesn’t hear me, or others. His repetition of stories finds me biting my tongue. But I stop myself.
As I watch the petals of the roses drop I look at my father with different eyes. A beacon of peace and calm my entire life. He has, by example, taught me the rewards of long term meditation practice. The grace of his life continues to unfold before me.
Yes, I still want to look 25 years old. But I am more at ease as a human living 45 years. I value this more.
My sister and I view photos of our past selves with the sigh of lost youth. But the present moment is where I am. Easily I rejoice in the process of life. I have gained so much with the passing of time. But can I honor every wrinkle on my face that tells my story?
Today? Yes. But what about in 10 years? 15? My intention is to continue this journey with curiosity. To observe the process with compassion and remember the roses.
September 14, 2010 at 8:20 pm
Beautiful and wise, perfect time to share your words with my mother
Thanks Julie!
September 15, 2010 at 1:46 am
Eloquently put sister. Perhaps working on our inner beauty makes us radiate brighter than any outer beauty, bringing out the true light of our souls. I now choose to laugh and smile more embracing each line it leaves behind knowing that it was a life well lived. Thank you for the truth..Much love!!!
September 15, 2010 at 9:31 am
This was such a lovely post, and I feel that it came at the perfect season as autumn usually gets me contemplating about life and nature, more so than summer, spring or winter does. I sometimes find myself biting my tongue when I have to listen yet another time to the same story, but I want to be more humble, patient and respectful and your lovely words have moved me in that direction.
September 15, 2010 at 9:38 am
The body is mortal, but the soul remains. We live enclosed in our body but you are right, the true nature, the essence is in the soul. If we look outwards we will see the aging proccess, we will see a body that is undoubtly moving to an end, like the roses do, but if we look inwards instead, we will see the rejuvenation proccess, we will see a soul that is in constant grow. The body shrinks while the soul grows. they walk hand in hand in opposite directions.
Thanks Julie….much love.
September 15, 2010 at 11:44 am
Love it Julie!
x
September 15, 2010 at 1:20 pm
beautiful Julie, I like to share a quote of Osho on this…
you’ll always shine…
“”"if you live moment to moment, to all the challenges that life gives, and you use all the opportunities that life opens, and if you dare to adventure into the unknown to which life calls and invites you, then old age is a maturity. Otherwise old age is a disease. Unfortunately many people simply age, they become old, without any maturity corresponding to it. Then old age is a burden.
You have aged in the body, but your consciousness has remained juvenile. You have aged in your body, but you have not matured in your inner life. The inner light is missing, and death is coming close every day; of course you will tremble and you will be afraid and there will arise great anguish in you. Those who live rightly, they accept old age with a deep welcome, because old age simply says that now they are coming to flower, that they are coming to a fruition, that now they will be able to share whatsoever they have attained.
Old age is tremendously beautiful, and it should be so because the whole of life moves towards it. It should be the peak. “”"
September 15, 2010 at 4:31 pm
Thank you for sharing that Nobieh! X
September 15, 2010 at 7:19 pm
Julie,
I read your blog several times and each time I got a different slant on your words of wisdom Thank you for sharing.
Jane
September 17, 2010 at 5:27 am
What a lovely post. Following closely in your footsteps in our aging, it’s amazing to me how we can still be those rambunctious teens in our memories, but when we hang out together now we’re women learning the wisdom of life and the meaning of our own inner journeys. Mature women? I don’t know. Curious women? Definitely. Willing women. Yes! Thanks for the eloquent reminder of how to grow old (and I’m so blessed that we’ve been able to do this together) and how to embrace those who have already reached advanced age with respect and patience.
September 19, 2010 at 7:51 pm
Oh Julie. This is exactly what I was talking about. Being at ease with who we are NOW! Embracing the aging process. Embracing the journey. Thank you for writing this.