The Pain of Wisdom
There have been moments in the last year or two in which I have impressed myself mightily with my Wisdom Quotient or Content or whatever the correct term is, if indeed there is a term at all. The thing is that I have found myself becoming wiser.
It started I believe sometime in my forties when for one moment I was trying to think laboriously about something in discussion when, poof, words of wisdom just fell from my lips almost as though I knew what I was talking about. Well, thought I that was nice. Then it began to happen more frequently and I decided perhaps it was Mother Nature’s way of giving back a little when she mercilessly began to strip away my youth. Well this is darn nice!
Eventually I caught on that this had something to do with experience and I found this very thrilling as experience I had – in so many things.
Within my closest group of friends I noticed our chatter took on matters of wisdom, opinions founded in experience and it was a very heady experience. It almost felt like adolescence where all of a sudden you know everything and anyone over a certain age knows nothing. You know that sort of special feeling, except rather than just anyone older not knowing anything, the ignorant included young and old alike; anyone, anywhere, not in the ‘in crowd’ which really meant all non-menopausal creatures of the planet.
But then I began to notice that our conversations turned more and more to aches and pains and what the latest medication of the day was, and our observations of society and all within were turning into gripes and complaints and we were sounding more like, grumpy old folk! Yikes!
Now I have taken a closer look at wisdom and the perception of the world. I can see it on the horizon, you know where you say something you think is brilliant, and the family just pats you on the shoulder and says, ‘right Ma’ with just a hint of patronization. (Please note they have never called me Ma, but I see it fast approaching).
I am seriously looking at ‘wisdom indicators’ and realize the next chance to be considered wise is at 102 when the evening news does a story on your birthday and every word out of your mouth is a treasure, largely because the population as a whole is amazed you can even utter a word at that age.
“Say can you tell us to what you attribute your old age?”
“Well,” I squeak out, “mostly drinkin heavily, smokin and makin rude comments to the world.” (When you get to the age of being called ‘Ma’ you naturally drop the letter g from words.)
Oh yes, I almost forgot my point on the Pain of Wisdom. When you are truly wise, when you know it all, when you can solve anything with just a word, you learn to keep your mouth shut. That, my friends, is the pain of wisdom for which there is one cure and one cure only. Blog away. Be smart, funny, wise, cranky and somewhere, somehow you might pass on all that accumulated wisdom.