When I was 10, 50 is an alien.
It will be percieved as an intruder in my mind and will be chased out on sight. How strange.
When I was 20, 50 is respect.
It reminds me of my dad or mom or aunt or uncle, wise enough that I looked up to on how my life should be lived. How naive.
When I was 30, 50 is a target.
It is a time of abundance accumulated through years of hard work and of prestige bestoned upon me from the admiring glances of people around me. How tiring.
When I was 40, 50 is my choice of a way of living.
It signals the clarity of a pathway that convincingly (at least at 40) should be how I should live my life eventually and it allows my energies to be channeled on it. How wrong.
Now I have finally arrived at 50, 50 is and always have been a blessing.
It is a time of contentment, gratitude and enlightenment. The realisation that no matter what you want or desire externally, you have controlled over nothing, that Divinity already has a plan designed and specially implemented for you, that the only thing that matters or you have full control over is how you feel within, and that the journey and the relationships and experiences you co-created with people that walked with you are the very essence of meaningful living. How blessed.
It is amazing to withness how thinking about the number 50 at different stages of one’s life can be so intriguing and thought provoking. It makes me wonder now what will 60 brings.
Even if I should pass on before reaching 60, I can’t help but to shout out from the top of my voice: “How exciting my life has been!”.
Thank you Divinity. Thank you to each and every life nourishing beings and love ones that I have the privilege to build deep relationships with in this lifetime. I wouldn’t want to exchange it for anything and when my breath becomes air, I will take all these memories with me.
I am enough now and into 60 and beyond. How grateful.
A J that turns 50