On Age and Envy.

There are many things I envy about the young, not the least being their eyes.  Bright, clear, replete with the energy and optimism of a road yet to be travelled… And if the eyes are the windows to the soul, then the souls of the young must also be bright, clear, energetic and optimistic, at least in most cases. No drooping lids here; no deeply ingrained and deforming lines; no creeping dampness and paleness as the energy of mind and body runs, like the sacred river, down to a sunless sea.

And that’s why I told the young woman in the pharmacy today that one of the benefits of wearing a face mask is that it highlights the eyes, and that hers were very lovely. Indeed they were. She was obviously of South Asian origin, and inveterate observers like me are prone to noticing that South Asian eyes, especially in women, exhibit a level of power and the ability to compel unparalleled in other races.

I wouldn’t have said it ten years ago because it would have sounded creepy, but that’s no longer a worry because I no longer have anything to gain from the approbation of young women. And so telling a young woman that she has lovely eyes is no different than telling a man that I admire his sturdy and handsome dog. I notice everything and I comment on everything, so why should the loveliness of eyes be an exception?

I was pleased that I’d said it. It’s pleasing that I can now have the courage to say it. And the young woman herself seemed pleased; she said ‘thank you’ and sounded genuine. So maybe I’ve now found something that the young can envy in the old.