“Do you have any plans for the summer?” my dental hygienist asked brightly. “No,” I said. “How about you?” “Five weddings and three baby showers,” she replied.
Our fascination with bodies effectively obscures True Self, which does not change, age, fall ill or die. I am the light of the world, I AM said, a solar system bar-coded as “Keith.”
Are we not alternately fascinated with, resigned to, fixated on and horrified by the process of aging? The reason for all of this turbulence is that we are in thrall to our bodies, utterly identified with them. But here’s the thing: We are not our bodies. We have bodies but only in the sense that we have cars, houses, clothes or any other material thing. In fact, the materiality of the body is what makes it difficult to change.
My body has an age measured in years. It has logged 68 of these. But the “I” that I am has no age. “I” is as old as God.