What I Didn't Know

When I was 25 I knew so little about sex. When I was 30 I thought I knew some things but I still knew so little. At 35 I was learning how to give pleasure, but it took ten more years to begin to learn how to receive it.

I knew that “older” people had sex. When I was 30 my mother who had been widowed many years, was, at age 70, in a new marriage. She told me that she and Donald had sex almost every day. I thought “good for her”. But I also thought, “How good could it really be?”

Now I know. And I’m sorry I laughed when people said that sex gets better as you age. I didn’t know. Now I do.

At 58 sex is better than I ever imagined. Yes, I wish my skin was smoother and I wish my skin didn’t sag—especially at certain angles. Confidence is part of it. And learning what works. And being fearless about trying things, and trying them again.

Many years ago I read Helen Gurley Brown’s book about women and middle age. She wrote that a woman over 50 has to decide that she wants an orgasm and then go for it. I didn’t, exactly, know what she meant.

Now I do.

When Death Comes

Tonight I read an interview with Mary Oliver in Oprah Magazine. Perhaps one of the first interviews that's she's allowed to be really public. She talks about her partner Molly's death and that she decided that she had two choices after her partner of 40 years died: She could buy a small cabin in the woods and lock herself in or she could unlock all the doors and invte the world in. She chose the unlocking. And she says this amazing thing. Five years after the love of her life has died, Mary Oliver says she is the happiest she has ever been in her life. She also talks about doing therapy--at 75 --to deal with a terrible abusive childhood. All of this gives me such hope and a model of a way to be in the world--and in myself.

Here is the poem, "When Death Comes", by Mary Oliver that I am memorizing:

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps his purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering;
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

~ Mary Oliver ~