“When there is no adversary within, the adversaries outside cannot harm you.” ~African Proverb
It’s just past ten on a Tuesday morning.
My board shorts and blue tank top are quickly drying under the blazing South Indian sun.
I feel vibrant and exhilarated after my surf in the warm, azure Arabian Sea.
Surfing consistently has been a dream for two years, and I’m realizing it, which is incredible given that I once believed I’d never ride the waves again.
A surfing mishap a decade ago, which nearly cost me my teeth, left scars and anxieties that persisted for years, shifting my interest from sports to yoga.
Upon arriving in Kerala, India, I had intended to concentrate on Ashtanga yoga with my instructor for ten weeks before heading back to Rishikesh in the North, where I had been residing.
A spontaneous invitation led me to a seaside town where I’ve been living for over two years due to the pandemic.
And luckily, the surfing here is excellent.
My reintroduction to surfing was gradual and intentional.
To celebrate my fiftieth birthday, I gifted myself ten surfing lessons.
I opted to begin as a novice, taking fundamental lessons to smoothly transition back and regain my confidence on the surfboard.
A fellow Indian student in my class, probably in his mid-thirties, asked, “How old are you?”
“Fifty,” I replied.
“I hope I’m still surfing when I reach your age,” he said.
Meant as a compliment, it made me feel self-aware, questioning the significance of age.
Two years have gone by.
I’ve progressed from a novice to an intermediate surfer.
After my morning surf, while enjoying chai from a Dixie cup by a busy road in a fishing village, an older man with grey hair asked, “What is your age?”
“Fifty-two,” I responded.
He appeared shocked, saying, “I thought you were seventy. Your skin looks quite aged.”
Yes, this truly occurred.
It’s not the first instance either.
Each time, it catches me off guard.
How can it be that I look seventy when I feel better now than at twenty-one?
To be honest, good skin doesn’t run in my family. Along with my affinity for the sun and spending most of my life outside, I ended up with skin like a reptile.
I used to lie about my age up until my mid-forties.
Upon reaching forty-six, I told someone I was forty. She laughed, thinking I was sixty.
But after that encounter with the chai vendor, I felt inspired to reverse my age claim.
What if I stated I was eighty-five? I thought, grinning to myself as I rode off on my scooter. This thought empowered me.
Instead of feeling embarrassed about my skin, I chose to use it against them.
I don’t care what they or anyone else thinks about my looks, dedicating no energy to it.
I’m unaffected by judgments because I feel amazing internally.
I practice the challenging Ashtanga yoga intermediate series six days a week, something I never envisioned could happen in my forties, and I surf daily.
The younger Indian surfers now celebrate, saying, “You’re riding some big waves now!”
And they’ve stopped inquiring about my age.
I felt driven to narrate this story because it raises the question: Why can’t we accept aging?
Why is it considered shameful to have aged skin?
Why can’t I embrace my wrinkles and grey hair?
This is the natural progression of our bodies.
They age.
So why shouldn’t we appear our age? Or even older, as I do in my case?
I’ve resolved to stand strong, shift the narrative.
I’m welcoming my age and my role in the
Embracing Aging: The Reasons I Remain Unaffected by Advancing Age