Something rather eventful will take place uneventfully tonight while I sleep. I will silently whisper goodbye to my fifties. There won’t be any fireworks or anything earth shattering. It will be a transitory slumber. (Prayerfully, hopefully) I will awake and without making headline news, I will be sixty.
There has been much discussion about this marker and, of course, “we” all agree that my mother made a mistake on exactly what the actual year was, that I was born regardless of a birth certificate. Hence, heretofore when asked what my age is, I will respond that either I dunno, or I forget, or I’m not sure, or why, does it matter how old I am, or I just turned 70!
It was grand being fifty. Given it is the new forty, I owned fifty. But Sixty really is different. The old age labels seriously kick in at 60 and articles geared toward seniors who are experiencing health problems, legs/joints/muscle issues target my age group. That being said, arguing with a number is like convincing myself I will be fifty tomorrow morning. And so, watch for me. I am not the lady in the red hat. Nope, I am going to be wearing striped djellebas, over pedal pushers, lots of bling and outrageous tennis shoes, for starters.
I compare this birthday and my entry into the sixties to that of the works of artist Paul Klee: “lighthearted and whimsical yet radiant and colorful.” When you allow yourself to really become part of Klee’s art there is a meandering sense of style that defies gravity. His colors, shapes and geometrics are truly modernistic and yet there is depth, softness and an insight into the soulfulness of mystery and wonder. An original, certainly not an imitator, much of the artwork of Klee seems out of balance and pushes beyond belief that life is symmetrical and that the only successful art falls into balance with nature. Klee’s art pushes the color wheel into high gear. And that is how I see my sixties. Revelation: maybe I am going to revisit the sixties, 1960’s!
Paul Klee sums up life and art this way: “Some will not recognize the truthfulness of my mirror. Let them remember that I am not here to reflect the surface… but must penetrate inside. My mirror probes down to the heart. I write words on the forehead and around the corners of the mouth. My human faces are truer than the real ones.”
Good night, sweet dreams until tomorrow when I introduce:
New Age Sage of the 21st Century Moxie Lady