You see, my view of "grown-up-ness", like most people's, was formed as a child. And from my self-centred perspective, adulthood looked horribly "grey". It seemed to be associated with a death of personality: a responsibility-induced homogenisation that entailed appropriate duties, cares and even clothing and hairstyles. Adults seemed to cease to have a life and instead became robots. All the colour, life and potential belonged with childhood. I associated adulthood with bitterness, lost dreams, financial worry and stepping on that endless treadmill of work, household chores and bills.
So I simply decided not to do it. I decided to exercise my right to remain a child. Remember the saying: "Growing old is inevitable, growing up is optional"? That pretty much summed it up for me. What I never realised, though, was that I was not clinging to the joy of childhood at all; I was, in fact, taking hold of exactly what I most wished to avoid. By resenting the need for work and responsibility, I became their victim. I saw the world as being something that happens to me, completely beyond my control, and I became the limited person I sought to avoid.
Growing up, it turns out, is the bravest and the most painful thing you can ever do. It involves being prepared to take responsibility for your own priorities, choices and responses. It means being prepared to own the consequences of those choices and the impact they have on others. It means accepting shared ownership of the society that challenges your vision of a beautiful world. And, in finally moving beyond a need for labels and external identities, it is also the most honest, rewarding and liberating thing you can do.
I give thanks to the teachers who have brought me to this point. All of them. I'm still not sure how brave or honest I am feeling, but let's give it a go. 50 years, if a tiny figure for a planet, is an astonishing number of years for a single human life. How many are not blessed to reach this point? Yes, of course I would like my 20-year-old body back, but my 20-year-old body could never have appreciated each sound or scent or taste as the 50-year-old model does. This body I now own feels the miracle of sand between her toes and sun on her face. She has also reached the point where it seems a little silly to be rigidly caught up with the seriousness of self-image. This body can afford to take herself a little less seriously and invite in possibility, embracing all labels and none.
I am truly blessed to reach the miracle of 50 years of age. I give thanks for every day that has added to my wisdom and for every day still to come, in which I can smile, laugh and know the miracle of a flower, a rainbow and a sunrise. May I be awake and alive to them all.