There are seven ages of man according to Shakespeare¹ and three according to Titian & Giorgione, Four² says Ovid and Hesiod five! Well for the purpose of this blog I say three, and they came to life ‘chez nous’ last night when my brother-in-law came to celebrate his 60^th birthday right on the heels of my son celebrating his 18^th. So one family member is entering his third age, and my son moving into his second. Now of course we are all changing day-by-day, but at these landmark birthdays we can reflect on the next steps in our journeys. What we are moving into and what we are leaving behind.

It is helpful to pause and reflect what we are leaving behind anyway, and perhaps to ask ourselves what things we might chose to release too. And what kind of future do we wish to build, because tomorrow’s fruits are always planted today, and the doctrine of karma is in many ways no more than saying we reap what we sow.

So perhaps today isn’t a special day for you, but I guarantee there is no better day to take a few moments to reflect and consider these issues

“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.” Shakespeare

 

 

Resources:

1. As you like it

   “At first the infant,
   Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;
   Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
   And shining morning face, creeping like snail
   Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
   Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
   Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
   Full of strange oaths, sudden and quick in quarrel,
   Seeking the bubble reputation
   Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
   In fair round belly with good capon lin’d,
   With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
   Full of wise saws and modern instances;
   And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
   Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
   With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
   His youthful hose, well sav’d a world too wide
   For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
   Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
   And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
   That ends this strange eventful history,
   Is second childishness and mere oblivion;
   Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. (II.vii)
   

2. Ages of Man