Wrinkles of Contribution

Wrinkles are signs of our presence, the memory of times gone by, the sum total of our lived experiences. Our wisdom. These unique lines of distinction are sometimes welcomed, but for many, wrinkles seem more like a proof of concept of growing old. They’re an everyday cue that our expiration date is approaching.

The lines on our bodies define the edges and spaces of our imperfections. And it’s at the edges, where the tension lies. Our linear geometry runs from toes to tush to tummies and tops of our heads. But it’s faces that capture our attention. Faces are the tellers of our stories.

We weave our story lines to rationalize in response to a culture that routinely frames people of wrinkles as less than, used up, or no longer enough. Rarely as contributors. Culture’s own symbols of acceptance revolve around the new, and fresh, valuing most those with that beautiful youthful glow.

I think truth lives in simple concepts like, we inevitably get wrinkles as we age. But what about those who want to deny or alter the truth? Plastic surgery, botox, fad diets. I’m reminded of the phrase, it’s all invented, from the book, The Art of Possibility. It’s our nature to tell stories and every story is based on assumptions allowing for the conditions we desire, so we create the narratives we want in support of our views. 

It made me think, what did my wrinkles say about me?

To me, a life well-lived has a certain beauty, a realness all its own. A truth. No airs, no hiding. A well-lived life reveals lines of love and integrity and a spirit of generosity and forgiveness amidst the inevitable pain and suffering. We all have lines, delineations and contours that trace our being. At best there’s an acceptance of our life choices which have given shape and dimension to our creases. For others, fear drives them to erase and pretend the furrows of our brows never existed. But, they did. 

No amount of denial can ever truly remove the marks of achievement we gained from competing in the world of measurement. So, in the spirit of acceptance and moving beyond measurement, I’m trying to practice contribution through my art, my images and my stories. Living in possibility as an every day practice. 

We live our experiences among everyone else’s experiences and it’s our shared grooves that help us find each other. I don’t know about you but I feel a pang of joy when I see smile lines around soft eyes because they remind me of our shared humanity.

I want to make meaningful contributions every day not exactly knowing where it’ll land or with whom it will have impact. Every day my lines signal me to stop and ask myself what I’m seeing and whether or not I’m listening. Hearing and feeling heard.

I see my wrinkles as marks of knowing, symbols of truth, real and natural. Easing my spirit as they guide and reframe perceptions. along the way. My wrinkles are the story of my contributions. 

How do you see your wrinkles?