sahrish shamim


The sun was a spotlight through the windshield. I shook my head and blinked my eyes to make sure that what I was seeing was real, to make sure that it wasn’t a trick of the light, that I wasn’t mistaken. I flexed my fingers on the steering wheel to make sure the hands on it were actually attached to my arms.
Raised veins snaked across the back of my outstretched hands. Sharp lines defined them instead of soft angles. There were age spots where there was once clearly smooth flesh. Wrinkles framed the knuckles, not gently contoured skin. How could these belong to me? These are the hands of an old woman!
This truth widened up from my tailbone, skittered down my back and fingered across my shoulders. My going-grey hair lifted at the back of my neck as full awareness shot through me and I splayed my fingers in a gut-sigh of surprise. These are my hands! This isn’t a concept. This isn’t a spiritual axiom. This isn’t me being centered and oh-so-wonderful in the face of my culture telling me my body is too old.
A few months before, a man had called me “wrinkly” and I thought I’d weathered this transitioning of me towards old. I’d written about it in an article called “My ‘Naked’ Truth“ and I’d received accolades and anger for talking about standing naked in front of a mirror honoring my aging body. This was different. This was way different.
This was me being totally inside the shifting of my years. This was bloody and raw reality pouring through me at the level of my DNA. I had become someone else while I wasn’t looking. It was as if a little kid in the grocery store was pointing at me and asking, “Mommy, what’s wrong with that lady? Why does she look that way?” And there I sat in the car and I cried. This is it. This is my life — and so very, very much of it is gone.
A voice in my head laughed wickedly as it sneered, “Did you really think you were going to get away with this so easily? Did you really think you were done with this aging thing? How arrogant of you! How foolish of you!” As my tears welled and rolled, all I could think of was how very innocent I had been.
I don’t know how to do this third age of my life — these years between middle-age and old. I don’t have a roadmap for what lies before me. I’m not some airbrushed and face-lifted women happily hawking anti-aging cream. “Noticeable difference in as little as three weeks!” I’m a child of the 1960s and 70s where rock and roll was my birthright. I was going to change the world and the “Age of Aquarius” meant I would be forever young. I felt cheated and somehow betrayed. This wasn’t supposed to happen to me. But it has. My hands are telling me that my youth is done. I’ve become the grey-haired lady in the drug store.
As I head into my 60th birthday, a whole new feeling about myself is emerging. Everything that I thought was valid and settled is now up for grabs. I don’t want to be doing the same things I was doing a year ago or five years ago. I want to misbehave. I want to kick this thing called “my life” and rock it wide open. I want to dance it and question it. There is an aching need for me to tear it all apart and look at the pieces — where have I been, what have I done and where am I going now? Where is the meaning and power, the potency, joy, laughter and wonder of my life?
I’m on my way to a place I’ve never really thought much about. Wait, to be really honest, I never thought about it at all! I wasn’t planning on getting old. Do any of us? But into my future I must go. So, with my heart open and my spirit very curious, I am walking full-wide and brave into this next great adventure of my life. I’m walking into the hands of time.

By Robin Korth
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sahrish shamim



The wounds I carried drove my life for years, unseen and covered over with thoughts, survival skills, beliefs and philosophies. I didn't yet know that there are no "ideas" that heal. There is only a deep willingness to abandon my thinking and go to the source.
To push past the cover-overs and feel my way into to where the wounds were born. This was a personal journey done in the quiet of my room or in the sheltering arc of trees as I walked and cried, as I howled and grieved--feeling my way into the welcoming truth of my own soul.
Writer Robin Korth
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sahrish shamim

About Sophy Bot:

What if you could quit your job? Forget the annoyances, leave the frustrations behind and proudly announce to your boss: “I quit.”

What if you could escape that relationship you’re so unhappy with?

Or move out of that lousy living situation?

What if you had the strength and the courage to get rid of everything that makes you unhappy and to shamelessly pursue your true happiness?

Not long ago, I had the kind of life that many people dream about. I was married, had a good job where I was steadily moving up the ranks, lived in a nice home and had plenty of money to do the things I wanted to do. In some ways, I had it all… except happiness. Happiness was something I’d lost along the way; something I’d forgotten about as I pursued the life I was supposed to live instead of the life I wanted to live.

But what could I do? After all, things weren’t so bad, right?
Hiding from Change

The easiest thing would’ve been to stay; to keep going down that same path and to make do with what I had, even if it wasn’t what I truly wanted. And indeed, that’s what my family wanted me to do. Nobody wanted to watch me go through a messy divorce or to be left penniless or without a home. Nobody wanted me to get hurt – but what they didn’t realize is that I already was hurting.

We’re so willing to put off change because we’re afraid of being hurt that we often forget how much we already are hurting. After all, making big changes in your life is hard, and who wants unnecessary complications? But what would the world be like if we were always willing to settle for “good enough” when, with a bit of effort, “absolutely perfect” could be right around the corner? I’d made my decision: something had to change.
Taking the Leap

I did it, once – that thing so many of us dream of doing. There my boss was, yelling at me for something that wasn’t even my fault, when I mustered up all of my courage and before I even knew what I was doing I’d already uttered the words: “I quit.” Unfortunately, I did this without having any sort of backup or savings. But it’s funny the things you notice once you start taking control of your life because, less than two weeks later, my marriage came to an abrupt ending when it suddenly dawned on me just how miserable we’d both become in it.

Unexpectedly finding myself jobless and single and in need of a place to move, something else occurred to me: I owned too much stuff. It was now holding me back, keeping me from moving out, and I realized I no longer wanted it anyways. So I got rid of it. All of it. And when I looked into my closets, I realized I didn’t like my clothing either, that I’d been wearing it because I thought that’s what people like me were supposed to wear. So I changed it. All of it. And when I looked in the mirror and realized I wasn’t happy with my hair, that I’d worn it that way only because my husband had liked it, I decided to cut it off. All of it.

Once you’re ready to truly take control of your life, you’re no longer willing to settle for “good enough.” That day when I quit my job, I had no idea that it was just the beginning of a total personal transformation. All I knew then was that “good enough” no longer was. I was ready to go for “perfect.”
The Rough Spots Are Worth It

My life was anything but easy in the months that followed. I was broke, yet I was no longer willing to take just any job – not when I’d fought so hard to win my freedom. My living situation was far from ideal. I rented small rooms in lousy neighborhoods and learned how to live without a husband. And yet despite all of the difficulties – and despite the fact that my whole family was out there telling me I was nuts – I’d regained something that I hadn’t had in years: my happiness.

Whatever I had to go through was inconsequential in the face of that happiness. Nobody ever said changing your life is easy, but the rewards you reap are more than worth the effort. My material belongings may have been gone but my happiness was back and, with it, I had no doubt that I could regain everything I’d left behind. Only this time, I would do it the right way and never – not for one second – forget about my own happiness.

Life doesn’t always go the way we expect it to. It doesn’t always give us what we truly want, and sometimes what it does give us isn’t what we wanted at all. But the beautiful truth is that life is flexible. The truly happy people out there aren’t the ones who got everything handed to them on a silver platter. They are the ones who refused to settle, even when that was the easiest thing in the world. They are the ones who were willing to take the leap; the ones who looked at life straight-on and said, “I am willing to change.” They are the ones who never stopped trying, no matter how hard things got. The truly happy people in this world are the ones who stood proudly and said: “I will not settle for good enough.”
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