Thursday, November 02, 2006

I love wrinkles

Have you ever noticed old trees? Run your hands on the hard bark? In the little ridges, where insects and beetles, birds of all sorts, have pecked and drilled and scurried their way through? Sweet tree gum oozing from various cracks, some branches withering away, leaves falling here and there, messing up the ground?

So what did you do then? Did you think the tree un-beautiful? Isn't it anything but?

The ridges indicate its age, the holes and bores - the love which other creatures had for this beautifully still being, and those which took shelter in storms and harsh sunlight. Old leaves providing fodder for millions of little creatures who we would dismiss as boring and useless in our busy lives.

So why is it that when we can accept the appearance of a grand old tree, we become frighteningly paranoid when it comes to our own aging process?

That scar you got when you fell down as a kid, those wrinkles near the eyes from laughing or working too much, rough hands that handled heavy things - these are the things I love most in people, because every little spot, every little `blemish' tells a story. Words can only describe a person so much, but when you truly observe their appearance, you can tell so much more.

So look at your father, your mother, your lover once more. Look at their faces, and `see' them once again. Not as a face filled with spots and blemishes, but as one that has faced all of life's battles and yet has the courage to smile for you. Our wrinkles are like tree ridges - learn to love them as they are.

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