A Flexible Mind Is A Happy One

The other day I forgot how old I was.
I mean, I literally had to subtract the year I was born (1969) from the current year (2013) and then figure in the month to arrive at my age.
I was not being coy. I never lie about my age.
The fact that I am still here at all I consider to be quite the achievement.
There have been several times in my life when I might have chosen the alternative.
On occasion, I still sit and ask myself what the point is anyway, but that has less to do with depression and anxiety these days and more to do with pragmatism.
I am still not sure WHY I am here, but in truth my fear of missing out on all the fun keeps me around.
Perhaps I have no purpose other than to breed - check- so if that's the case the rest can be seen as either a bonus, or natures idea of a mind fuck.
Perhaps one day I shall achieve some level of greatness that will open all the doors and windows and send floods of justification my way, although from what I have read even people like Freddy Mercury died full of self doubt, and that guy was amazing.
I wonder at people who never ask 'Why' about things.
I consider them stupid.
I am not suggesting we should all sit and contemplate everything ad infinitum like those frustrating fucking trees in 'The Lord of the Rings', but there surely must be a time and place to question beyond the absolute obvious.
"My wife left me"
"Why?"
"Because she's a bitch"
"That seems reasonable, let's leave it there shall we?"
It's true, some things happen just because they happen.
Those are what we call accidents, but a lot of things happen because people wish it to be so, and sometimes even a whisper can turn into a roar when carried by the right wind.
So my age is currently being forgotten by my brain.
Is this because I am in denial?
Does the idea of turning 44 this year, and no longer being 42- the age of all answers- but 43- the age of no particular cleverness- upset me so much that I have chosen to blank it from my synapses?
Or is it that having become a women In Her Forties, I no longer feel the need to count the runs ?
Perhaps age is no longer relevant to me.
Perhaps I am old enough to know better and young enough not to care.
Perhaps I have early onset dementia, in which case my mind is already in the process of relieving me from the burden of  mental responsibility.
A horror in the early stages, a blessing in the latter I believe.
I see people younger than me, people in their 20's and 30's, rushing towards artificial goals set by societal norms as if their entire existences depended upon them.
Work goals, child bearing goals, home ownership goals, body beautiful goals, have as much fun as you can goals, travel everywhere goals, sleep with everyone goals, achieve the perfect orgasm goals, find 'The Right One' goals, 'love yourself enough to meet your own goals' goals.
All before middle age kicks in and a whole new set of goals are added to the list.
Most of these involve removing wrinkles and re-visiting the earlier goals that you have failed to achieve in the set time allotted.
And who is manifesting this list?
Journalists-with editing deadlines.
Editors -with spaces to fill around the ads.
Experts- the ones Christopher Hitchens suggests we view always as mammals.
And the rest I hand over to ourselves.
You see, we have the power to ration our own psychosis, if we choose, but often we react to the auto suggestion of others without ever asking why.
Why must things be done when we say they must be done?
Nature will surly dictate our fertility, but not our ability to nurture.
A beautiful body may be one that has softened with age.
A book written at 60 will contain far more insight than one written at 25.
Are these excuses, or are these are truths?
As we age, we gain certain strengths by surrendering others.
But as we know, with great strength comes....
Which is a bit of a crock, given that the responsibility now lays with people who are likely to forget that it's Sunday, or that their glasses are sitting on top of their heads.
Perhaps my fading mental power is a result of having achieved the goal of near self destruction in my mid 30's?
In which case, job well done !!
Another one to cross off the list.
Now if I can just get into the next decade wearing pants in the correct manner, I shall be happy.

When You Are Riding The Roller-Coaster, Remember to Wear Dark Pants.

There is a Theme park in Malaysia where people can observe the changing seasons from behind thick glass. This is not as crazy as it seems.
In Malaysia there are only two seasons.
Wet.
And not so wet.
If you spend your entire life in Malaysia, you may never feel a breeze let alone smell spring or see snow.
The other day I was on a bus travelling from the Kowloon peninsula, known locally as 'the dark side', back to my beloved island, when I looked out to discover a small park hidden amongst the Forrest of buildings and highways.
Of all things,the park had a short winding path with yellow falling leaves scattered on the ground.
It was like bathing my eyes in cool water.
My brain was transfixed and I couldn't turn away from its beauty.
I looked around the bus to see if anyone else had noticed, but how could they?
Not when there are candies to crush and pigs to kill.
The song 'Big yellow taxi' kept playing in my head.
Whether it's a paved paradise or a gangsters paradise it matters not.
I have never really been an active greenie.
I love the outdoors. I love the ocean. I love mountains too, but I never really go to battle for them.
I have a friend, Ben, for whom I suffered a futile crush in high school, who has gone on to dedicate his life to saving the  planet in an active and useful way.
He and I once went fishing off a pier in Sydney Harbour.
I used to do that a lot in my teens.
Home wasn't easy.
Hoping to hook more than the usual fare of leather jackets - the fish not the garment- I invited Ben out for a days sitting and waiting.
I remember someone playing the new Phil Collins CD on repeat in a house nearby that travelled across the water making the day complete.
The song "Sussudio" still takes me back there.
It's funny what nostalgia can do.
Now in my fourties, I try to look back to examine the paths that have lead me to the place I currently inhabit.
We are all born at the beginning of a journey, are we not ?
And every movement, forward, backwards or sideways means we forge through previously unmarked clay until we arrive at the place we were always destined to attend.
No two people every experience the exact same path in the exact same way.
The hackneyed 'walk a mile in my shoes' phrase is only hackneyed because of how true it is.
And the older I get, the more the pain of every miss step, every fork in the road, every dark alley, every circular motion seems to fade into insignificance. 
I am here, because this is where I am.
Don't get me wrong, I am not a fatalist. 
I believe that the choices we make shape our lives, but sometimes we don't always have choices, and sometimes the choices of others are so powerful and all consuming that we are knocked sideways by their impact. 
But as I have oft quoted to those laboured with listening to me, it's not how we fall, but how we get up that counts.
A Stage Director told me that once. I was 8 or 9.
It's never left me.
Lately I have been working with a man-child who is part bully/part unwashed intelligentsia.
Like all child prodigies he appears to have been over mothered and under parented.
Demanding and pouting seems to have worked for him in the past, he still uses it to get what he thinks he wants.
It is a learned behaviour.
It doesn't get far with me, I tend to ignore bluster and get on with what needs to be done.
I went to the academically significant Sydney Girls High School.
If you are going to get all " I'm a genius" on me, you'd better bring your A game.
Plus, I have learned the secret of life, and that is that we are all dying.
Each and every one of us, so bluster away until your blusterer's sore.
The light we see from the stars happened hundreds of years ago, in space our understanding of time is immaterial, and in effect, you are already dead. 
Some find this a disturbing thought.
Not me. 
I see my life as a theme park anyway, with all the clowns, roller coasters, wild lions, dancing monkeys, performing seals, arcade games, hot air balloons, popcorn and fairy floss a girl can handle.
What ever happens, I'm ready.
Got my fast pass, my camera, and a pair of comfy shoes.
Race you to the next attraction ;)