A friend this morning said that we actually have several ages to which I come out as follows:
| Chronologically Biologically Mentally Psychologically | 45 30ish 25ish 16 |
I remember 20 years ago, does not seem that long ago, that my friends were tormenting me about being a "quarter-century old" and I thought they were nuts and now I am starting to push the next quarter. I never did understand the fixation with age.
Considering how much grief I have put this body through over the years, I aam impressed with how well it is handling the wear and tear. I never thought I would make it to 18 and to have made 45 was inconceivable until a few years ago.
I am beginning to understand the comment that youth is wasted on the young though. I think that is as much the fault of the progenitors as it is the young. What stresses were the young put under and is it really that big of a surprise that they would spend a lot of it in sometimes questionable ways? We taught them to fear and to be ashamed of what they are and we wonder why they rebel? Just how blind are we to the reactions to our actions?
Age is about a measurement of time in this particular classroom called life and doesn't really mean much unless you want it to. I think I will just ignore it for a bit longer, say 400 years and see how I feel then.
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