--- In FairfieldLife@yahoogroups.com, TurquoiseB <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > What interests me in a woman over her mid-forties > is how well she "wears" it, and how comfortable > she is with her real age. I would imagine that > it's the same thing women find attractive (or > unattractive) in older men. > > It's a great *gift* to no longer be able to rely > on your looks. It forces you to rely on deeper > things, and to develop them.
Since no one else seems to have considered this subject interesting, and I do, I'll follow up on it myself. :-) Since my taste in women is often a subject of prurient interest here, I thought I'd share with you my recollections of one of the 5 or 6 most beautiful women I've ever met. The recollection is spurred by finding a Steichen photograph of her as a young mother, breast-feeding her child, in a book called "Family Of Man." I cut it out of the book and had it framed and am taking it tonight to my best friend, who introduced me to the woman in the photograph 17 years ago. I think it will please her, because she is about to have her own first child. The beautiful woman's name was Tasha Tudor. My friend, who I had only recently met but with whom I was already smitten, was staying for a time in Tasha's house in Vermont, and invited me to come up to visit her. When I did, and when I wandered into the world of Tasha's hand-built house, and her famous and hand-maintained gardens, and her Corgis, I knew at first sight that I had met one of the most beautiful women in the world. Tasha was 76 at the time. She died in June, at 92. Here's a bio of her, and a link to a tribute site that has some photos of her, her house, and her pretty much as she appeared when I met her: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tasha_tudor http://blueberrycottage.blogspot.com/2008/06/farewell-to-tasha-tudor.html Tasha called herself, proudly, an "old woman." She *delighted* in being an old woman. She lived alone, with the exception of her chickens and her goats and her Corgis, most of the time, and living alone had worn well on her. I remember at the time I met her thinking, "I don't think I have ever in my entire life met anyone more comfortable in their own skin than this woman." By that time I had met Maharishi and Rama - Frederick Lenz and a number of other spiritual teachers. Since then I have met other spiritual teachers. I stand on my first impression. Tasha was active, she was mentally sharp as a tack (don't think for a moment that I didn't have to endure a bit of that sharp-as-a-tack mind since I was at her house to court a young woman she felt protective of, and who was twenty years younger than I was), and just an utter delight. She wore every moment of her extra- ordinary life in the lines on her face, and in her bearing, and especially in her laugh. I guess I "passed muster" as a suitor, because after a few minutes' grilling and seeing how I handled being handed a pail and being sent to milk the goats, she warmed to me considerably. (I had never extracted milk from anything in my life more complicated than a milk carton; I can only imagine that she was highly amused watching me give it my best shot.) She was outspoken, she was outrageous, but most she was grace personified. Watching her move about her house and gardens was like watching a goddess dance. She personifies for me someone who was "comfortable with her real age." I can only hope to be as comfort- able with my own if I ever reach her age. If I do, and with a similar level of comfort, a lot of it will be due to having had a remarkable role model to set the bar for me. When I think of Tasha I almost always think of an early Bruce Cockburn song, written about his mother- in-law. I think it describes the kind of beauty I'm talking about better than I can: She is passing in a warm breeze Bars of light that cross the floor One smoke-gray, curled, tiny feather Skips aside By her middle hang the keys Made to open any door Even the one that lets in the cold wind >From outside She lives in a house of colour Guarded by cats three in number And one great dog of gentle manner In among the trees Silence Carries No apprehension here In the warm sun By the window sill I can just sit still And watch her go by... Queen of field and forest pathway Understands the speech of stones She weaves peace upon her loom Life's mistress - Bruce Cockburn, 1969
