Let
Go
“It was
my letting go that gave me a better hold.”
Chris
Matakas (#Human: Learning to Live in Modern Times)
My cousin, Sandy, has
been visiting me for the last week. We did many things; shopping, of
course, and we watched some Netflix movies, and enjoyed several
Christmas music events. Sunday night I took her to the newest,
hottest seafood restaurant in Birmingham. It is a reservations-only
establishment, and when we arrived we were seated at a tiny table,
about 18 inches round, with a plush bench decked-out in loud stripes
on one side, and an upholstered chair on the other. I'm a short
person, so I almost disappeared into the the cushions of the bench,
putting the table at the level of my throat. A young couple were
given the table next to us, maybe 15 inches away, and they proceeded
to grope one another under the table. Quite distracting. There was a
constant drone of loud, bump-thumping music, and, as more and more
people arrived, the noise level rose to a roar with folks attempting
to be heard over the din. The food was very good, and the service was
not bad, though the waiter did sound a lot like Jerry Lewis, as he
tried to find a vocal range we could hear—turned out to be high
tenor. The average age of customer was perhaps twenty-three; girls
wobbled around on six-inch wedges or spikes, reminding me of new-born
giraffes (when did girls grow so tall?) Guys were amazingly creative
in devising ways to display all their body art and gym-muscles. It
was quite the scene, believe me. And, unfortunately, not one I will
return to. Good food does not make up for that level of auditory
abuse.
It's time to realize that
the times have changed—the popular industrial décor does not
support customers over sixty. Perhaps that is the point. I
can let myself off the hook, and let others off the hook, too. I can
choose to go to restaurants where there is an actual sound-absorbing
ceiling and where the music is background only. And, young people can
choose to go to one that will damage their hearing in record time. I
don't have to be cool any more, thank God; I can let that go.
Understanding this has given me a better grip on reality; also, an
appointment for an auditory evaluation.
Letting go is the
challenge of my life stage. Letting go of material “stuff,” and
of ego attachments. Letting go of the urge to say, “but we've
always done it this way!” Letting go of the desire to criticize the
new generations for the way they go about life, and of insisting that
my way is better. When I can let go, I feel free to enjoy simply observing. I remember when rock music first made the scene, and how
horrified my parents and other adults were, how critical and outraged
with all that hip-wagging. It's only change—a guaranteed quality of
living systems. When things morph and transform, even if I don't like
the direction they're going, that change is a sign of life rather
than death. Get a grip, I tell myself. Find your tribe, and your
nest, and love where you are and who you are. Those are our choices
at any age.
In the Spirit,
Jane
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