Returning My Wisdom Package

 

photo by Alex Shute on Unsplash

In my yoga class, I am often tasked with finding an inspirational reading for the end of our practice, our "lying prone on the mat" savasana. As my fellow yogis and yoginis relax, yours truly reads this or that literary/spiritual nugget aloud, to ponder during the challenging (always challenging!) days ahead.

 

Last week I shared a terrific poem, "The Wisdom Package," by Hayden Saunier. Hayden is a very talented writer and actress; she and I worked together decades ago, at Emory University Summer Theatre in Atlanta. Nowadays she lives and works in Bucks County, PA, and has won many awards for her poetry. This particular poem describes an exchange between Hayden and her eye doctor during an exam; the doctor congratulates the patient for her “wisdom package”—

 

I laugh and ask him about knees and knuckles,

liver spots and forgetfulness, and to each complaint

he answers: Wisdom! Wisdom! Wisdom!

 

While whimsically written, the message is serious: like them or not, these inevitable physical and mental changes should be embraced. Getting old is, as they say, a privilege not given to everyone. Yay for the wisdom package!

 

So why am I not yay-ing?

 

It’s not as if I was ever in the running for America’s Next Top Model. But time was, I had a certain visual appeal--that is, if you found freckles appealing. I LOVE the Gaelic term for these spots, btw-- pógini gréine (little sun kisses). I moved through the world quickly and surefootedly, I could see clearly, and hear a pin drop, and I never gave my knees a thought. 

 

And I do notice and celebrate the true beauty of the elderly, how those mouth creases attest to years of deep and satisfying laughter, how silver hair softens the face, how a slower and more hesitant step encourages careful contemplation of the world around them. 

 

I fear, though, that I’m heading towards having a visage that looks like it has been folded into an origami crone, frown lines that are much deeper than laugh lines, and coarse, mousy gray hair that only harshens my face. I don’t contemplate the world when I walk these days--I just try to avoid hills, stairs, and stepladders.  Much as I’d love to choose “Helen Mirren” as my once and future look, it’s more likely that I’ll favor Granny Clampett. 

 

I’m trying to find a way to keep the wisdom, and return the packaging. It may be as simple as the Amazon formula. Often, when the wrong item is sent, I receive a refund AND am told to keep the jar of preserves or whatever. It’s just not worth the hassle to Jeff Bezos, who is already spending every waking hour personally shipping stuff to me.

 

So, then, this is my prayer:

 

God grant me the postage to return my bum hips, high cholesterol, poor eyesight and bad teeth

The damaged, dented wrapping of this old body.

Let me exchange it for a newer version of myself.

But Lord, let me keep the wisdom. Amen.

image by geralt on pixabay