In Chinese Medicine, females are considered to age in 7 year cycles. So at 7,1, their teeth are in, their hair is thick, they're beginning school. At 7,2, they begin to express reproductive capabilities, menstruation starts, and so on.
I am on the brink of 7,7.
I love it, because it's a square.
I kind of hate it because it's so very much closer to the big 5-0 that I'm practically there, and that distresses me just a bit.
Things that happen at 7,7 if you're Chinese:
Your hair begins to gray.
Your menstrual cycles may begin to falter, then cease entirely.
Your skin begins to appear older.
You, essentially, begin to show signs of age.
So the hair part? Yep. I'm beginning to be shot with silver in my nearly black locks. But weirdly enough it's not bothering me enough to color it anymore. So I'm either maturing, very comfortable with who and where I am, or I'm fucking busy and just don't want to deal with it. I'm really not sure which, to be honest.
The cycles? Nope. On they rage, wreaking monthly emotional havoc and ensuring that I never ever travel without a whole host of supporting supplies 'just in case.'
Skin? Yep. Goddamned freckles are getting bigger, crows feet are getting deeper, and the circles beneath my eyes? Most days you could park a truck there if you needed to.
I am aging, and some days that grates on me. But I'm also feeling a liberation, a sense of grace and acceptance, and a heightened awareness of the power that I've developed as a woman by simply being alive and weathering life's storms for nearly five decades.
I've also become aware, and this one is funny, that many men are intimidated by self-confident women my age, women with voices and opinions and the energy to affect change if change should need to occur. I almost envision a scrotal retraction/tightening in these men, which is funny to envision, because of all the beautiful parts of a man, and there are many, the scrotal area really doesn't claim a position in even the top 10, in my opin.
With age comes resilience. The whole willow tree vs sturdy oak analogy pops into my head as I contemplate the benefits if bending vs relentless, stubborn, resistance. I'm blessed with the finest people I can image in my life, and I realize that their presence strengthens me, makes me believe in myself when I falter, and makes me strive to be more compassionate and less diva-like most days, unless it's my birthday in which case all bets are off. But this is universally understood, yes?
So here I am, on the brink, thinking nostalgic thoughts, dreaming of what the future holds, and focusing as much as possible on embracing each moment and being absolutely.present. And breathing. I'm taking time to breathe through it all and into what comes next.
Happy Friday, everyone!
Hugs,
Stevie
I am on the brink of 7,7.
I love it, because it's a square.
I kind of hate it because it's so very much closer to the big 5-0 that I'm practically there, and that distresses me just a bit.
Things that happen at 7,7 if you're Chinese:
Your hair begins to gray.
Your menstrual cycles may begin to falter, then cease entirely.
Your skin begins to appear older.
You, essentially, begin to show signs of age.
So the hair part? Yep. I'm beginning to be shot with silver in my nearly black locks. But weirdly enough it's not bothering me enough to color it anymore. So I'm either maturing, very comfortable with who and where I am, or I'm fucking busy and just don't want to deal with it. I'm really not sure which, to be honest.
The cycles? Nope. On they rage, wreaking monthly emotional havoc and ensuring that I never ever travel without a whole host of supporting supplies 'just in case.'
Skin? Yep. Goddamned freckles are getting bigger, crows feet are getting deeper, and the circles beneath my eyes? Most days you could park a truck there if you needed to.
I am aging, and some days that grates on me. But I'm also feeling a liberation, a sense of grace and acceptance, and a heightened awareness of the power that I've developed as a woman by simply being alive and weathering life's storms for nearly five decades.
I've also become aware, and this one is funny, that many men are intimidated by self-confident women my age, women with voices and opinions and the energy to affect change if change should need to occur. I almost envision a scrotal retraction/tightening in these men, which is funny to envision, because of all the beautiful parts of a man, and there are many, the scrotal area really doesn't claim a position in even the top 10, in my opin.
With age comes resilience. The whole willow tree vs sturdy oak analogy pops into my head as I contemplate the benefits if bending vs relentless, stubborn, resistance. I'm blessed with the finest people I can image in my life, and I realize that their presence strengthens me, makes me believe in myself when I falter, and makes me strive to be more compassionate and less diva-like most days, unless it's my birthday in which case all bets are off. But this is universally understood, yes?
So here I am, on the brink, thinking nostalgic thoughts, dreaming of what the future holds, and focusing as much as possible on embracing each moment and being absolutely.present. And breathing. I'm taking time to breathe through it all and into what comes next.
Happy Friday, everyone!
Hugs,
Stevie
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