Guest post by Gabrielle Townsend: Aging into Resurrection

Posted by on 04.05.10 | 8 Comments
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Gabrielle has been a dear friend of mine since I moved to Central Oregon in 2003.  She is a a bit older—and wiser–than I, so I watch her process of ‘aging and saging’ closely and with great tenderness.   She recently turned 65 and is struggling with life purpose and path.  When she sent me this poem and comment yesterday (Easter)  in an email, I was moved to ask her if I could publish it on the VTH—as I’m sure she’s not the only Baby Elder who struggles with these questions.  I’m sure she would love to hear your comments, thoughts, reflections.  Please feel free to post them at the end of this poem.  –Beth, VTH Host

Note from Gabrielle about the poem:   What to say…..I guess turning 65 has been a bigger deal than I thought. The thought of "wildness" really did come to me when I saw the river and I could feel the desire and recognition of my soul’s longing.

All the ways I’ve defined myself don’t exactly work anymore. Every time I think about doing the next great thing, I feel a bit sick and resistant. Will I never feel the passion and creative fire that has led me before? Will I know for sure my life’s purpose before I leave? Most of all, will I be patient enough to wait, and trust enough to know I’ll be led?

And will I be able to greet each day with a wild heart and enthusiastic spirit grateful to enjoy "one more day of loving?"

Yep….I guess turning 65 has been a big deal.

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Aging into Resurrection

My mind is busy on this beautiful March day on the way to my river walk:

“Bend is growing!”

“Will I find a parking space?”

“How will we care for ourselves as we grow older?”

“Should we buy one of those condos? How much do they cost?”

over the bridge

down the hill

under the highway

around the gate

A shock of recognition

The river!

And my soul speaks…..

I want to flow with the wildness of the river before me.

Sparkling enthusiastically with its YES! on it’s way to Source.

Held by the soft banks and rolling merrily past trees and rocks

         left by winter storms.

Does it know the part about the inevitable joining with the big ocean

         and evaporating into death?

Not missing a beat, it flows on.

Over the stones, around the bend – enthusiasm unbounded,

        rushing to the end.

Now the great adventure begins again.

Ahhhhhh – wildness……..

show me how you do that.

 

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