I am a 61-year-old female human on this earth. This face is the map of my world. Everything I’ve done, and been proud of or sorry for, everything that’s been done to me, everything that’s been done for me, everything…it’s all there on my face.
This culture wants me to smooth everything out, to draw back the skin of my wisdom, to wipe out all evidence of the struggles that softened me into a better person, to erase the years of work that resulted in the storm-worthy ship I’ve become. It wants me to look like a rookie again. Why in hell would I want to do that? Why would I want to look like I know less than I know?
When I was younger, my smooth face was lovely, but it served a different purpose. If you missed it, you weren’t meant to know me then. This face is held dear by the me you get to know now. Every detail about it is precious and has a seat at my table–every wrinkle, every indentation, every freckle, every mole. And it works in both directions. So when I see you, know this: I love your face as I love my own; and nothing about either one of us needs to change.
Namaste everybody. Here’s to looking in the mirror, and bowing with deep reverence and respect for all that we’ve experienced.