It seems to be human nature in this society obsessed with celebrity and plastic surgery to fret about aging body parts. While I generally feel fabulous and live consciously in my broken body, every once in a while life throws me a curve where I begin to obscess about an aging part. For some time it has been about the sagging chin.
The shock of it came last year when after five decades of wearing glasses I had cataract surgery. I was instantly relieved of my specs and with great clarity could easily see the lines in my face and the gaggle that set in when my chin left. I was really upset until I realized I had two choices: plastic surgery or to get over it! I chose the latter. And yet the fret remained…
|
| detail, lucy’s bag
©carol larson 2011
|
The other day I had the rare occasion to dust the living room where numerous family photos reside. Being the first grandchild I was featured in four generation photographs with both my maternal and paternal elders. As I dusted I picked up these treasures and reflected on the math. My great grandmother who looked like Mary See, the founder of the chocolate factory was just two years older then than I am now and my great-grandfather a very wizen 75. They both were old folks.
Suddenly I realized that I had stumbled across the fountain of youth right here in my living room. I have long held the belief that if one wants to feel/look young hang out with old folks!!! They think you are a kid and you feel like one too. Never mind plastic surgery, never mind buckets of moisturizer and youth serum. Because I have a sense of humor, a young spirit, good genes, and have unloaded so much emotional baggage, I am blessed to look a generation younger than my elders at the same age. And in a world beleaguered with major problems this is a very important fact!
Today I ran over to the East Bay to update inventory at the
gallery, have lunch with my adult daughter and visit my aged father in assisted living. As I meandered the streets of Berkeley running errands, I was fully engaged in conversation with my daughter, watching out for the ever-present and oft-annoying bicyclists, the pedestrians who suddenly appear everywhere, the traffic lights, parking spaces and dodging wacko drivers. Apparently I repeated myself asking a question she had already answered to which she reminded me…
Mom you already asked me that! I started to feel wizen until I realized that I was doing a lot of multi-tasking for a reclusive artist my age.
This image is a detail of a new purse which features fabric from a handwoven & faggoted linen table runner made by my great aunt Lucy. She would spin in her grave to know I dyed it chartreuse and painted it purple! Get over it…
