Saturday, November 1, 2008

wrestling with what's on the outside

"Darling, I am growing old,
Silver threads among the gold." ~Eben Eugene Rexford

i turned thirty this summer and i decided to stop plucking my gray hairs. i have so much hair, so plucking a handful of grays each week has never posed a problem. but i decided to quit. and now it's too late to change my mind; there are too many. maybe not "silver threads among the gold." among the ebony? i've never wished i were a blonde before, but i can see that it would be useful now; maybe these stray grays wouldn't stand out so much.

i'm trying to see them as symbols of wisdom, experience, growth. but they just look old. and i'm faced with the reality that i'm getting old. -er.

maybe on the outside, but never in. may the grays never grow in.

"'You are old, Father William,' the young man said,
'And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head--
Do you think, at your age, it is right?'" ~Lewis Carol

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