Sunday, July 12, 2009

Midlife in dominatorland

I know, I’ve got plenty of plastic food to eat and tainted water to drink. I’ve got polluted air to breath, so I shouldn’t be whining. I’m here, ain’t I? Bombs aren’t falling from the sky. But hey, I find it a royal pain in the ass to grow older in this dominator world.

Things move too fast! I want them to move more slowly.

Change is continuous, relentless, exhausting.

Too much change, too fast, so that the kids at school and I don’t understand one another. We speak different languages. We come from different worlds, though separated by only a few years.

One is compelled at midlife to pretend that one is still young, so I dye my hair. I wear current fashions. I drag myself on unwanted adventures, when my desire is simply to be still and do the same things carefully, every day.

My rapidly dwindling life force is spent doing the work of the dominator chieftains, spinning my time into gold for their coffers.

What purpose do I have in this insane culture? Who will listen to me, now that I am able to give good counsel? Who will acknowledge my life when I’m gone? To what family do I belong? I don’t even know my own name!

There are too many things. I can’t keep track of them all.

There are too many distractions and stimulations.

And too much noise! I can’t hear the voice of my gods above the clatter and bang of the machines, the insistent chatter of the advertisements, the blaring of the mind-control machines. Be quiet, you bastards! Let me grow older in peace!

My nerves are frayed.

I can’t learn anything deeply, because there is always something new to annoy me. We are masters only in the thinnest of things. We live on the surface. But as I age, I wish with all my heart to go deep.

I want to stay here and rest deeply in this place, not move from town to town and house to house.

I want to eat the same foods every day, changing only with the seasons. There are fifty-thousand items on the supermarket shelves.

I want to master the skills I already have, spending long hours with my pencils and my pens. I don't want to learn to use cell phones and ipods and softwares and techno-toys. Yeah, yeah, I know I wouldn’t be talking to you now if it wasn’t for blogging software, but I’d trade it in an instant for having you here at my kitchen table.

I want to nap in the afternoons, take long walks along the creek in the mornings.

I want to be gentle and loving with my body. I want to take my time.

We are supposed to love change in this dominator culture and seek it eagerly, love speed, love possessions, quantity, complexity, novelty, youthfulness, energy, danger, adventure, change, change, noise and change, or we are disparaged as wimps and losers. Tough shit. It’s time for me to slow down and go deep.

It’s a royal pain in the ass growing older in this dominator world. I have nothing to complain about, but I’m claiming the right of a midlife woman to complain anyway. I’m tired and I want to slow down.

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