The cosmic comics play their little jokes with great glee, I'm sure. I can just see them now. They sneak up on us as we get older and then, with much mischief, kick sand in our faces as we try our best to keep up with our lives. Then, little devils that they are, they scamper away and hide behind corners, giggling, as they watch us wipe the grit from our eyes.
There's a Greek word, a-kedos, that means sour. And that's what seems to happen as we age, isn't it? Boredom and apathy set in if we're not careful, which manifests itself as "crotchity." You know.....the old man or woman who gripes and grouses about everything, beginning most sentences with some form of "When I was young....." Sometimes they even use words like "whippersnapper," or "wood shed" as everyone smiles politely and moves one foot closer to the door.
Accepting all these new fangled communication devices, for example, is just not going to happen. Acedia sets in, the lack of energy to even look at new things, much less use the darn things. Maybe this is why, as a society, we shun our seniors instead of learning from their experiences. They don't make it easy, with all the complaining and grumbling.
But, what I've learned with my own aging is that my desire is tempered by a physical lack of energy. Yes, I know, I know. I can generate more energy by just moving. I get that. It's that cosmic comic playing tricks on me, though, the one who teases me with a world with much still to be experienced while I am struggling with less energy to get there.
I work hard at bodyslamming that trickster out of my way, but it's still work. I know that stagnation and stasis are creators of crotchity, though, and I refuse to have sand thrown in my face. You know, the sour old lady with no goals, no dreams, and no future.
I guess I'll just keep repeating the mantra:
AGED does not have to mean OLD.