Another college dream fulfilled: seeing Tori Amos in concert.
First, I eat at Veritas-a lobster roll and potato buds, a delicious rose cocktail.
Meet a beautiful woman, Kelly, as I eat. She shall become a character in a story: Dr. English, an anthropologist who studied tribal dance and left academia to become a massage therapist. As a healer both through movement and touch, she appreciates how plants can be healing.
Most of the people here look like me: women in their 40s, sort of hippie-ish. I wish I could tell me younger self: even if you feel like you don’t fit in, be you. You do. You’re glorious, and living your truth now will only reinforce your joy later.
This is a weekly post I do to highlight blogs or bloggers who have inspired me in some way during this week – another car on my imagination train!
Health and getting older has been on my mind a lot this week. (Skip this section if you don’t want TMI): I’m getting older. It’s really and truly happening; it’s not longer a cognitive eventuality. I woke up with a hot and sweaty face the other night and I couldn’t sleep – Night sweat? My period is late this month (not pregnant). I have arthritis that, no matter how much I hope and pretend otherwise, finds new ways to hurt every day. I also had an emotionally trying week last week, and am still trying to find footing in the sifting sands of truth and dysfunction.
As the seconds and minutes of February 1st tick away, I edge ever closer to that threshold to the “wrong side of 30,” which I cross at midnight. February 2nd is my birthday, and I will be 36. Closer to 40 than 20.
Ten years ago, when faced with a similar, though younger, reality, I was really upset. There I was, closer to my 30s than my teens, my finger slipping ever father from the pulse of coolness. I had a college degree, yet no discernible use to which I had put that degree. I was again living with my parents. I was losing the good parts of youth without getting the benefits of age.
After lunch at work the other day, I escorting a a man in a wheelchair out of the building. During our trek, he was talking about the injury to his spine, but mentioned he could still walk “because I was an athlete and a Marine.” Since then, I’ve been marveling at how remarkable the human body is and especially what exercise does for someone.
Which makes me think of my hip. After the accident, my pelvis was shattered and reconstructed in a feat of orthopedic-magic. Seriously. Today, my ex-rays bring a crowd of nurses and doctors, because they can’t believe the work they did inside me. It’s like a museum in my pelvis.