The Luxury of Languishing

An ode to nonconformity

Greetings, dear Sunny Buddies,

There are days when I wake up and I feel rather slow.

Today is one of them! Not unhappy or lethargic. Just slow!

I languished in the warm bedcovers longer than usual—no point in rushing. I so love that liminal space between sleep and becoming fully awake. It is where we can muse on life, play with the wonder of being alive and let warm thoughts float around in our awareness.

Flowing Slowy by Piriya Pete Wongkongkathep

Taking things slow is one of the joys of being retired. I have the luxury, and it truly feels like a luxury of not feeling like I have to ‘get going’ right away. I have never been an early-morning person! When I was a working parent, there were many instances of pushing through such slowness. For example, when my delightful daughter was ready for her day at 5am, or when there was a work meeting, I had to get to by 8am! I struggled a bit, and I think I was somewhat bleary-eyed during those times! Ho hum!

When I did throw back the covers this morning, the next ‘slowness’ was to take a cup of tea and wander around the garden. The May weather is so welcoming just now, warm and moist. The trees and plants feel fully alive. I love visiting each plant, stopping by and communing with them. It can feel like a meditation to look and truly ‘see’ them. 

Sitting in the garden contemplating being retired and having the luxury of completely pleasing myself today, I remembered one of my favourite poems that celebrates doing the unexpected. It is by Jenny Joseph and is called ‘Warning: When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple’ It is truly a delightful piece of poetry as she dares us to be different, to grow old disgracefully, and to quite deliberately embarrass our children. Big smile!

Wearing purple symbolises royalty, grandeur, independence, wisdom, devotion, extravagance and pride, all of which feel somewhat proper. But this poem is a beautiful ode to nonconformity. Jenny playfully ponders, not doing what is expected of her as she ages. I sense there is a twinkle in her eyes as she writes. She intends to amuse and shock us at the same time. There is so much to savour here. The line ‘And learn to spit’ made me splutter and laugh out loud. 

Here is the poem for your delight and delectation.

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Whilst the poem is whimsical and funny, there is also a serious edge to it. Jenny reminds us that ageing is not about becoming less of ourselves. It is more about maintaining an aliveness that will sustain us as we age. Facing life with wit and courage helps us stay vibrant and optimistic even as the bones begin to creak.

You can listen to Jenny reading her poem by clicking here or on the image above. As always, if you would like to share thoughts on these musings, I would love to hear from you.

Ann