SHE BANGS 2 BY NARIMAN

Car doors, cupboards, jars, drawers...
Everything, and anything!
She's hurried (frenzied almost) in her actions, in her rush to do, to be, to live.
And she's loud...
In her dress, in the way she expresses herself, in the way she speaks, in her singing (always at the top of her lungs). She is noisy, particularly in the company of her girlfriends.
Not afraid to be heard or noticed...

She is really a contradiction because softness and silence are also a part of her make-up. Especially during those times when troubling thoughts persist after having been left unattended for too long.
Then she seeks solitude, silence, sanctuary!

Hiding out, and pausing to reflect is never easy. It is difficult shutting out the world when we have all become addicted to connectedness, to attachment in this age of social media and information overload. The absence of noise can be a wonderful thing. Taking a vow of silence seems pretty attractive right now too. 
But how do you silence your mind if it is forever ticking like a clock, if transcending and meditation is something that peaceful, Zen people do? 

So, what does she do?
She writes.

This writing thing is particularly appealing to one on the cusp of retirement. The world is a different place for the soon to be retired. The rules change and the dreaded feeling of not being quite welcome to the club anymore, descends.

Your time is up in the working world.

Your kids no longer need you quite as much.

And two-thirds of your life is behind you.

Some would argue the best part of your life is behind you: That portion of your life where you had energy, and not every other bone in your body was hurting like a mother on waking up. Or having to deal with those suspicious looking bruises appearing on your body for which you have no explanation.

Me, I welcome this phase! Mind you, not the creaky knees or the dodgy bumps and bruises, but the freedom that comes with it. I get to be disheveled and devil-may-care, or grateful and grumpy all at the same time, and I’d much rather nap than do anything else. Put me in pj’s and I’m real happy, happier than in ‘grown-up’ clothing or even just pants! Napping off mid-series is my favourite past time and man, if the sun hits you just right on the couch…mmm…heaven! Give me the hands of a masseuse on my body or a king size bed for only me! Also, sleeping in separate rooms is underrated. Personally, a bit of both keep things spicy.

Writing is so good for this ‘condition’, this unbecoming in your twilight years. There is nothing scarier than a blank page... Frightened fingers wander over unfriendly keys. It taunts me the white, bright, empty space. 
The hum of the machine pulls me in, focusing my attention squarely on the screen. I play around with the font pretending to create, then type and erase words, sentences, musings that don’t fit with my perception of self. Erratic thoughts spill forth from an erratic mind, hitting the white and I bring it to life.

Memories come flooding back of an epic life:
Stories of bar stools and pool tables.
Of 13-hour road trips to Salalah, or long slow drives in the Wildernis with strangers and friends.
Stories of men loved, and left, and rediscovered.

Of my son growing up way too fast. Or memories of living amongst strangers on different continents: Georgian, Spanish, British, Australian, Emirati, Bruneian, Maltese, Moroccan, Jordanian …

From trekking in the deserts, to rainforests and nature reserves.

To catching sunsets. And taking tumbles, so many tumbles…along train tracks in Simons’ Town, on slippery boardwalks in Mulu, to warm white sandy beaches in Thailand.

Ah, she truly bangs, and whimpers, and tumbles.

What a life! How marvels have these 5 decades been?

The great loves.

The endless fights for, and with the ones we love.

The struggles through difficult relationships and challenging times, the never-ending twisting rollercoaster of a ride...

Surviving covid, and lockdown and hand sanitizer and masks.
And living through Capitalism, Imperialism, Colonialism and Racism…
And 30 years of Palestinian activism and Israel still being deranged, murderous bastards in a new Millenium!

 And love sweet love:
The holding on…the letting go.
The broken heart that you thought would never heal.
And the absence of loved one from your life, leaving every day with a bittersweet feeling, the missing of them that makes your heart whole…

“I miss you when you are gone from me.”
Breathe.

Life is so big!
Yet souls are bigger and more encompassing.
Live. Love. Laugh.
And dance!
Seek those souls that speak to you; and when you find them, release them with love for our  destination is beyond the stars.

60 is calling me and I am trying to move purposefully to my next chapter, determined to find my place in the world.

And if you happen to find me, listen carefully…
Each wrinkly, hard-of-hearing, slow-moving, tired-looking oldie has an epic story to tell, one filled with adventure, drama, lust and love. 

And it remains imprinted in our DNA, lingering just beneath saggy skin, running alongside each and every wrinkle.
I am empowered and inspired by my own life and will allow that feisty attitude to carry me through to my golden years.
How can I not be ok?

I stood in front of a Casspir in my 20s with my fists raised in the air, I buried a baby, 2 parents and countless dear friends…
Aging doesn’t scare me, living an uneventful life does.
That ain’t happening!

Breathing deeply, I feel my chest rise and fall, exhale slowly like my guru at the Indian Embassy in Brunei taught me, and I wait for calm.
Again! Inhale...hold it.... exhale!

My breath a sheer life force.

Still here…Still breathing…still kicking ass and breaking barriers.

Come at me, I’m ready.