As I walked around “Day on the Town” in Birmingham a couple Saturdays ago
, a large, noisy, and fun annual sidewalk sale, the title of the 2006 Nora Ephron book, I Feel Bad About My Neck, kept coming to mind. This was in no small part due to the throngs of beautiful twenty-somethings with their annoyingly perky little figures and glossy, flowing manes. I had left the house earlier that morning thinking I looked not-too-shabby for a woman in her fifties, and I returned thinking: What were you thinking? I felt bad about my neck—but also my face, hair, boobs, glutes, and legs. Other than that, I was riding an epic wave of confidence.
Luckily, as I arrived home later, deflated in my self-estimation by the ravages of the three decades and four pregnancies I had on these gorgeous girls, I also returned to find an email awaiting from Jules Evans, a British philosopher I worship. His mailing that day riffed off of Socrates’ observation that, “To philosophize is to learn how to die.”
This particular post profiled a pair of Buddhist friends who do a lot of work in hospice. In discussing their mission, Evans noted that, “When we focus more on death, life comes into greater focus—its mystery, its poignancy, its brevity, and its purpose and value.” Then the kicker: “What things do I worry about that don’t really matter?” Immediately my neck came to mind.
A little further down in the post, Evans pondered the issue that distracts us from the real meaning of it all: “How often do I get lost in the ego-dream?” and then later still threw out the term “ego-dissolution.” It was as though a flashing sanity marquis suddenly illuminated my brain. Of course we’re miserable and riddled with self-loathing when we fixate on appearances. Lose the ego, find the way. Why is it so hard to keep this obvious idea front and center as we move through the day?
Once my consciousness had abruptly shifted, I immediately felt better about my neck. It still holds up my head and allows air and food to pass through it. “What does matter?” Evans asks. “My working hypothesis is that the purpose of life is to realize our divine nature, over multiple lives, by learning to love more, and cling to the ego less.” I’ll leave you with that laden idea to ponder, along with a reminder of Einstein’s formula:
Ego = 1/Knowledge
Let the ego go if you want to find wisdom, happiness, and peace—and, by the way, self-acceptance and self-love.
So happy to read your brilliant words again.
Great posting Kelly. I have realized that my ego always gets me in trouble and I can’t believe everything I think. Half the time they are lies. I so agree with you that it is unhealthy for me to focus on my appearance. I immediately start thinking of the fact that I have most of my body parts, can move, see , think,etc and I, too, immediately
feel better. (I have had 2 hips and 1 knee replacements.)
Great reminder not to obsess about the pimple I woke up with this morning. Thanks Kelly! Xx.
It is like you were talking directly to me at the exact right time; after watching an infomercial for “crepe erase” Thank you!
Right on! The ego is the animal soul, if we don’t lead it, then it leads you. Thanks for bringing that to the forfront while we are making new resolutions and working on ourselves for the coming new year (Rosh Hashana)
Thoughtful and well said. Thanks, Kelly.
Nice insight!
You may want to read “The Five Invitations” by Frank Ostaseski
Subtitle: Discovering What Death Can Teach Us About Living Fully.
Such an inspiring post — thanks, Kelly.
I’m a 52-year-old nutritionist with three kids under my belt and I’m on a similar journey from self-judgment to self-acceptance (dare I say: self-love!) as the one you describe. When I read Nora Ephron’s “neck” essay a year ago I thought: “That’s just silly. All she needs to do is wear a turtleneck.”
I have no time to mourn my youthful looks; my younger years were pretty sucky and as I grow older, I feel happier, freer and lighter (and funnily enough, more attractive).
I recently decided to let my grey hair grow out. To soften the blow, I treated myself to a super-sexy short haircut that I’ve been dreaming of for many years (and that elicits tons more compliments than my “safe” (boring) long hair ever got). It feels surprisingly liberating and a little daring.
I have given up on having a flat tummy. I’ve had three kids, for goodness sake — including twins. I have come to love my soft little post-menopausal belly — I call it my “estrogen patch” because I’m convinced the estrogen being produced in its cells is keeping my skin smooth, my bones strong and my mood stable, and has kept hot flashes and other midlife annoyances at bay. I marvel at my body’s wisdom for knowing that I needed that small bit flab.
I have come to like my soft upper arms. They never looked like Jennifer Aniston’s to begin with, so why would they get firmer with age? They’ve cradled babies and dying pets, heaved shopping bags and cast-iron pots, hugged children, parents and friends, hung up hundreds of loads of laundry to dry, helped write a book, and cooked endless meals that were joyfully shared by many.
I am finally learning to let go and that feels good. Not only of my physical attributes, but also of unnecessary burdens I no longer wish to lug around. Material aspirations. Unrewarding relationships. My need to be right, and my fear of being wrong. The desire to control outcomes. I’m letting it all go and making place for serenity in the here and now.
Thank you — your post was very inspiring.