Aging … or Becoming
Consider yourself as Becoming rather than aging. Captured here in…..The Seed of Life—seven circles, like seven years of renewal, spiraling the memory of vitality into form. May this Seed remind you: within every breath, your body knows how to become again; you are not aging—you are blooming, in ever-new spirals of coherence.
Recently a good friend of mine was in the Okanagan to participate in the car show, and we had our usual annual opportunity to reconnect. He made a comment that surprised me—that compared to others "our age," I seemed to be about 39 years old in his view, rather than… well, the number I know myself to be. I felt the instinct to argue, to correct his perception based on the visible signs I often see. But instead, I paused, received it, and said thank you. Why not let that reflection settle into my field? Why not allow it to resonate in my body, and in my mental space?
A few days later, during a Pickleball class, the teacher used an analogy about something from decades ago. When I didn’t catch it, he commented to the group that it would have been "before my time." Again, I knew the reference, having lived through that era—but rather than correcting him, I let the implication that I appear younger than my chronological age absorb, be received by my mind. It mirrored again this curious phenomena: how others perceive us, often through lenses unfiltered by our own internal conditioning.
These moments invited me to reflect—not just on how others see me, but how we’re taught to see ourselves through the lens of time…. and opened a familiar portal of inquiry for me:
What is the mental and cellular conditioning we carry about how a certain age should look, feel, or function?
How might that conditioning shape our experience—in body, in energy, in spirit?
And what might be possible if we began to release that cultural, inherited script?
Age is not merely chronological but is shaped by perception, resonance, and embodied frequency.
If, as science affirms, the body regenerates itself every seven years at the cellular level, why do we still appear or feel "older"? Why do we not embody the suppleness or glow of a body remade? Skin replaces itself far more often—so what defines the visible signs of aging?
I’m not ignoring the obvious—yes, there are processes, entropy, and the need for some form of exit. We’re not characters in "The Age of Adaline" or "Benjamin Button." But still, I wonder: do we have to experience decline as inevitability? Or is that part of a program we’ve unconsciously accepted?
What if the trajectory through time could feel lighter?
What if your skin, your energy, your laughter—could remember an earlier rhythm? Not to regress, but to reattune to the joy, vitality, and unconditioned lightness already encoded within you…
Maybe it starts with softening the way we talk to ourselves. Or maybe it involves exploring the emerging wave of resonance technologies—red light therapy, scalar waves, sound fields… to help bring out the amazing technology we hold in our body. And I believe we are about to witness even more ‘technology’ made available. But perhaps even more profoundly, it begins by remembering that this body is a conscious technology, not merely physical but a harmonic system. We have not yet tapped into its true capacity, I am sure. Our chakras, our auric field, our fascia and fascia memory, our breath—each one a sensor, a transmitter, a bridge.
We each carry a unique arc of embodiment—what some might call an exit strategy... but must that arc always include decline? I don’t know how long I will walk this Earth, nor do I know the exact shape of my soul’s exit. But I do know this:
We carry within us a harmonic intelligence far more magnificent than we remember.
And maybe, just maybe, the next stage of our evolution isn’t just about living longer but living more vibrantly.
It’s about living truer—to the song that pulses beneath our skin, the memory of light our bodies still know how to sing.
Energetic Invocation
With this image, I remember:
That I am not bound by time,
but attuned to rhythm.
Not aging, but flowering.
Not diminishing, but refining
in the geometry of becoming.
May every cell awaken to coherence.
May every breath return me to resonance.
May the light within me remember its shape—
and choose again to bloom