We have complex reactions to aging in my family. My relatives that do not smoke or drink tend to live a very long time. My great uncle only recently started using the ramp instead of the steps to get into church. He is 100 years old. Quite frankly, much of what people consider the effects of aging I simply thought of as being the effects of being a city person. It seems that people who live in town are born weak, raised weak, live weakly, and generally die many years before their death.
By many objective measures I am healthier than I was thirty years ago. Of course, things change. A few years ago I lifted a six month old colt that could not stand and tore my right bicep rather badly. My fore arm filled with blood, leaving it a strange bluish color and, although it was the bicep that was hurt, the fore arm swelled up like Pop Eye. Looking back, I should have gone to the doctor. The muscle grew in, but not correctly. It does not hurt at all, but it is much weaker than my left arm. It tires easily.
I adjust.
I play music better than I ever did. On the other hand, my hearing has severely deteriorated and I cannot remember 12 digit sequences for even a few seconds.
Again, I adjust.
Other changes are more disturbing, and perhaps not age related. I now rarely find interest in Comedy Central, which I once considered to be, along with the History Channel, solid proof of the goodness of God. I can tolerate frivolous songs, but I no longer enjoy them. I find entertainment to be generally tedious and prefer being educated to being entertained.
Two days ago I had a chance to step back into the past and it was very disturbing. I obtained a dvd of a presentation that I made about five years ago to an assembly of prosecutors. It was a training seminar on using prey animal body language and natural horsemanship principles to more effectively communicate with child witnesses who had been molested and adults with mental retardation that were similarly victimized. The presentation lasted over an hour and was one of the better public statements that I have ever made.
In all candor, the audience was utterly mesmerized and the electricity in the room was palpable. Since I was a teenager I had been been able to electrify an audience with very little effort or preparation. Highly ironic, because there are few people out there worse at making small talk or conversing one one one with a stranger than am I.
That is gone. There is no more electricity when I speak. My battery is not charged--doubt if it ever will be fully charged again.
I regret that. However, horses still enjoy communicating with me. Not a step has been lost there.
That makes up for everything else.
Which brings us around to the final point. When things are not smooth, forget glasses. Look at your horse. Is he half empty or half full?
Either way, feed him, saddle up and ride on.
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