Birthdays
“A human
being would certainly not grow to be seventy or eighty years old if
their longevity had no meaning for the species. The afternoon of
human life must also have a significance of its own and cannot be
merely a pitiful appendage to life's morning.”
Carl Jung
Celebrating a seventieth
birthday has been both a sobering event and a mighty celebration. For
a child who almost didn't make it through her first year of life,
it's a milestone that cannot be ignored. So, I've been thinking—as
Virgos are wont to do—about the tasks of this developmental stage.
Erik Erikson called it the years of either integrity or despair,
depending upon how you have lived your life, and what you see looking
back. To the extent you have led a meaningful life, and have made a
valuable contribution, you feel contentment and fulfillment. If not,
then you may look back and see only missed opportunities and bad
choices and feel regret, or even despair. My own life has been like
any other—not without its faults, its casualties and banalities,
but having a large portion of grace mixed in. My son, Jake, said to
me this week about his own life, which has definitely had its
pitfalls and struggles, “Mom, I wouldn't change a thing. I wouldn't
be who I am now if I hadn't been who I was then.” That about sums
it up.
I think this life stage
is about two things: giving back, and letting go. Whatever I have to
give, I want to do it. And whatever I am holding on to, I want to let
it go—especially if it is of a negative nature. As long as life can
sometimes seem, it is too short to hold grudges. I don't want to
poison the ground for anyone else.
Today is a good day. Let
me not take that for granted. I hope it is a good day for you as
well. In the words of the late, great Golda Meir: “Being seventy is
not a sin!”
In the Spirit,
Jane
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