As I approach my next multiple of twelve, I find that tokens of aging visit me more frequently. These are mostly unwelcome, so I rarely choose to write of them; I’ve not been offered any lifetime achievement awards, or summoned to provide sage advice. My life is, however, highly advantaged, with few stressors and many robust personal relationships. Querulousness caused by the manifestations of aging is neither attractive nor justifiable, therefore not how I wish to portray myself.

Self-image manipulation is one key difference between a blog and a diary, but that’s not today’s topic.

My primary aging symptoms involve forgetting words, and dropping or losing items. When again I find myself looking for something I had a moment ago, or cleaning up something I broke, or struggling to remember the name of someone I know and value, I am discomposed, or even pusillanimous. Why is this happening to me now–aren’t the fifties the new thirties? If I’m like this now, will I need a minder in ten years?

Today I lost my eyeglasses. I don’t wear eyeglasses all the time, but mostly. I had them on at breakfast, and then I didn’t. I live in a four-room condo, and I knew exactly where I had been. I finally had to leave the house without them–my backup pair wasn’t where I expected either. I felt demoralized and anxious.

Then I had an epiphany while driving.* Into my befuddled brain crept thoughts of one of my favorite works of literature, Tolkien’s Lord of the Ring series. Since I’m becoming an old person I repeat myself, so many of you may have heard me praise this series for its essential message: We can’t control our fate, but we can control our reaction to it.

In the books, this mainly refers to choosing to risk one’s life to save the world, with little hope of success and guaranteed death either way. In real life, there are many difficult, serious fates, which I need not enumerate to anyone who follows the news or knows other humans. How ridiculous for me to cower in the face of aging! Losing my eyeglasses is hilarious, trivial, liberating, forgettable. It’s an opportunity to get new ones, to do things that don’t require eyeglasses, to ponder all the things I haven’t lost. It’s rejuvenating and empowering.

Later, my new strong and confident self easily found the lost item.  Can I turn all my tokens of aging into inspiration? I say, Yes.

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* I had my prescription sunglasses.