The pros and cons of Menopause

I've been organizing my photographs for the last few days . . . some twenty years of memories stuffed into boxes, cabinets and multiple albums around the house. Of course I ran across pictures of myself from way back when, long before the big "M" was looming so large. And I got to thinking how every phase in life has it's pros and cons, even this one.

Like how my once non-existent belly now rests comfortably on my upper thighs whenever I sit. And how the top part of my menopausal middle provides a nice little shelf for my breasts.

This from a woman once in complete control of the comings and goings of body fat. Once able to push her body through extreme sports and grueling exercise. Sure, I can still push it. But it just won't go as far. And all the injuries from years of extreme physical work are squatting in my hips, knees and shoulders--nagging reminders of the things I once did.

Those times of greater capability and a well-trimmed middle are a distant memory as my girth expands of its own accord—regardless of whether I live on a diet of lettuce and spend hours a day intimate with my elliptical. My body is on a journey of its own, taking me along with it.

So, what of those “pros” I hinted at? They’re certainly not "form" related. But they are certainly there. Like the wisdom of fifty-some years assuring me that form is no longer (indeed it never was) what defines me. As young people we are very tuned to the external—how thin are our hips, how clear our skin, how large our breasts. Even further away we go into our clothes, our cars, our houses and lawns. We see our outward display as paramount to our success.

But as we grow in wisdom and age, we turn our gaze inward, looking toward our character, our spirituality, our relationship with ourselves, others and God. Depth of thought and mindfulness become more meaningful—like taking time to honor the smallest things, like giving instead of having.

And as we go even deeper, we learn that we are not (and have never been) our bodies. We start to fully grasp the idea that our bodies are merely temporary dwellings for our true selves. And if we listen carefully to that deeper voice, we realize that our purpose in life extends far beyond the mere polishing and maintenance of our dwelling. 

I once read a scholarly essay on how the Chakras so closely mirror the stages in our lives. How we start at the root where grounding, safety and survival are prominent in our thinking. From there we move up to the egoic stage, the age of power and acquisition. On to the solar plexus where we learn discipline and begin to see the value in reigning in our egos. Next is the fourth chakra, the Heart Chakra, the movement toward spiritual maturity. It’s usually during mid-life when all the good stuff starts happening. The heart chakra is seen as the bridge between the three lower chakras and one’s higher, spiritual ambitions. On to the fifth, sixth and finally the seventh chakra located at the crown of the head. The crown chakra is considered the stage of infinite consciousness.

But we can only reach the crown by moving through the lower stages first. We simply have to be egoic for a while! We simply have to learn the importance of taking care of our dwelling before we can abandon it to our higher ideals. It’s part of life.

I know this menopausal body has served me well. It stayed fairly polished during the years when I needed it to sparkle. It remained a solid dwelling place for the entity I know now as “me.” And now, as I witness its gentle and natural decline, it forces me to slow down, allowing more time to ponder what is truly important in life. Rather than to fixate on this belly, as it lounges here against these thickening thighs. Rather than to dwell over those photographs of a thinner, trimmer, more active me.