Seventy is the New Forty
I’m constantly on the lookout for people with stories that inspire me . . . As I talk with people, just casual everyday conversation, I’ve discovered that most everyone has a very interesting life. Yet most people think their life is boring and uninteresting. Seems that the majority of people believe that the most interesting part of their life was in their youth, their “glory days” back in high school or college. You know, all the crazy shit that we managed to live through and tell about later. The stories that somehow become more and more embellished as the years go on. Those stories are certainly great at parties and help us laugh at ourselves.
I, however, like to look deeper into people’s souls for the stuff that has depth, purpose and real meaning. Things like those so-called “mistakes” that we made that we feel shameful about and tried to sweep under the rug, or the stuff that causes us to pause in silence and stare out the window with a deep, long sigh.
Two years ago I had the pleasure of meeting a wonderful women, whose name I have changed for this story in the name of respect. At that time Cynthia was 74 years old and I was 41. We became instant friends, and we spent much time together for about six months when I was living in Mexico. Cynthia is like the energizer bunny reincarnated into this lovely woman with long salt & pepper hair, and signs of living a full life strategically sculpted on her beautiful face. She wears her emotions on her sleeve, and holds nothing back. She is magnetic; her six marriages are proof of that.
We shared a common courtyard with a lush garden and a swimming pool that looked out over Lake Chapala. Just three days after we met she was out on the sundeck sunbathing in the nude. No shame, no worries. Of course, her husband felt a bit differently. I thought it was great. I wanted to get to know this person who, at her age, could stand before a complete stranger naked as the day she was born and hold an expression of peace in her funny little grin.
Over the months we spent many hours just talking about our lives and the many stories that helped mold us into the people we had become. We shared a lot of tears and had many good, hard laughs. Through her stories I could see into her heart, and feel the pain that she still carried in her pocket. It was manageable now. She left an impression on me that inspired me to put fear in its place and embrace life in the moment.
The painting I did, Seventy is the New Forty, in honor of her interesting and inspirational life is not a portrait of Cynthia, but it carries a likeness of her spirit.
I, however, like to look deeper into people’s souls for the stuff that has depth, purpose and real meaning. Things like those so-called “mistakes” that we made that we feel shameful about and tried to sweep under the rug, or the stuff that causes us to pause in silence and stare out the window with a deep, long sigh.
Two years ago I had the pleasure of meeting a wonderful women, whose name I have changed for this story in the name of respect. At that time Cynthia was 74 years old and I was 41. We became instant friends, and we spent much time together for about six months when I was living in Mexico. Cynthia is like the energizer bunny reincarnated into this lovely woman with long salt & pepper hair, and signs of living a full life strategically sculpted on her beautiful face. She wears her emotions on her sleeve, and holds nothing back. She is magnetic; her six marriages are proof of that.
We shared a common courtyard with a lush garden and a swimming pool that looked out over Lake Chapala. Just three days after we met she was out on the sundeck sunbathing in the nude. No shame, no worries. Of course, her husband felt a bit differently. I thought it was great. I wanted to get to know this person who, at her age, could stand before a complete stranger naked as the day she was born and hold an expression of peace in her funny little grin.
Over the months we spent many hours just talking about our lives and the many stories that helped mold us into the people we had become. We shared a lot of tears and had many good, hard laughs. Through her stories I could see into her heart, and feel the pain that she still carried in her pocket. It was manageable now. She left an impression on me that inspired me to put fear in its place and embrace life in the moment.
The painting I did, Seventy is the New Forty, in honor of her interesting and inspirational life is not a portrait of Cynthia, but it carries a likeness of her spirit.
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2 comments:
Mili, The blurb on your card, the part about the mirror, reminded me of a story I heard from Gen Schwarzkoff of Desert Storm fame. He told us of his two dogs, one a huge shepard with rippling muscles and huge teeth and the other, a Chihuahua, small, short haired and small mouthed. Thing was it was the Chihuahua that rule the roost. When asked how the tiny dog pulled off bullying the huge shepard, the General grinned and replied, "He never looks in the mirror." I still look in the mirror but not so seriously anymore.
me, too! LOL!
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