A story goes that a young boy asked his grandma how old she was. She answered, "39 and holding." He thought for a moment and said, "Well then, how old would you be if you let go?"
How old would I be if I let go: if I took to heart every time someone said, "pretty good for someone your age," or if I believe the "take it easy" scripts society seems to have written for folks my age, or if I exercise all the horrendous caution it seems I am supposed to have about doing things. I got this much figured out: you only die once. So, why die to day after day beforehand, letting go, trying to put off that one day that is going to happen anyway?
Yeah, I am 39 and holding; ain't letting go: that's my story and I am sticking to it.
Love it Marv. Keep holding on my friend. I think I will too...
ReplyDeleteLove it! Definitely holding on. As we age, the things we've done with our life make a bigger and bigger difference. Our physical selves and our mental selves come to embody what we've put into them. Doesn't it feel beautiful to enjoy each age, and not fear it?
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