I was born in 1958. Dwight Eisenhower was President of the United States, "I Love Lucy" was the top rated television program and the world was in black and white. Ancient history.
Recently I visited a website with current pictures and profiles of my high school friends and was shocked to see so many grandparents smiling back at me. Is that the same kind of face I see in the mirror? Is the youthfulness I feel an illusion, a trick of the mind that each of us engage in to get through the day? I'm not sure.
Last weekend I went to London for a 24 hour trance party and was my usual self, which is to say I busted it full power. I didn't feel old seeing the 20 and 30-somethings sitting, exhausted, against the wall while I jumped at 150 bpm. It isn't about chronological age and I guess it never was. But there was one giant difference, for me at least - being so close to my 50th birthday I was aware that each time I walk onto the dance floor I'm one day closer to my last dance. That's been true since the beginning, of course, but last weekend it was at the front of my mind.
The knowledge of the eventual end of my trancing ways didn't make me sad - quite the opposite. I spent the entire party with a huge smile, enjoying doing what I love and loving it all the more because I'm not guaranteed the chance to do it ever again. Every part of the party was beautiful, including the three hour bus and train trip back to Brighton. It was beautiful because I'm alive.
My life has been - is - idyllic. I've had pain and trouble, just like everyone else, but I'm grateful for this life. And in a way I'm grateful that this life is finite - the certain end of our lives makes the time we spend here more precious. Every day we can have the proverbial "last cookie" feeling, the special enjoyment that comes when we cherish the end of a pleasant experience.
