Changing the Road Signs: Adulthood, Women’s Roles, and Resilience in “You’re Aging Well”

Listen to this song on Youtube.

When I was a little girl, my mother used to always keep a batch of CD albums in the glove compartment of her Honda minivan. She’d play them on repeat whenever she drove us to playdates or appointments. Nearly every day, I’d hear “You’re Aging Well” by Dar Williams. At 7 years old, I didn’t quite grasp the meaning behind the lyrics. At 20 going on 21, I can now start to appreciate its message.

First released on her album The Honesty Room in 1993, this song deals with the process of maturing, especially for women, in a contradictory modern world. It also celebrates her relationship with mentor Joan Baez, who served as a primary source of encouragement in both her professional and personal life. The two recorded a duet version as well.

The song begins with a lament: “Why is that as we grow older and stronger the road signs point us adrift?” She declares that she will repaint the road signs, defying the paths society ushers us down if they are to leave us continually doubting – “You never can win. Watch your back. Where’s your husband?”

These lines encapsulate some of the contradictory issues that women face. We should be feminist, but can’t be too feminist for the sake of a relationship. Our friends might stab us in the back. We should have significant others, but we need to keep an eye on them. And if only our “lower calf, upper arm were half what they are.” Yet still we are tempted believe that these will lead to a “road of enchantment.”

These kinds of narratives rampant in our culture leave us “with a collection of sticks,” with which to “fight back the hundreds of voices.” We become cynical, absurd – well aware we can only eat “the poisonous apple… not a story we are meant to survive.”

But Williams offers us not just hope, but the promise of companionship in a world that seems indifferent. The refrain of the song is “I’m so glad you finally made it here. You thought nobody cared, but we did, we could tell.” With age, we discover that with suffering comes empathy and understanding. Above all, while hardships can seem abnormal in a world where everyone is walking the road of enchantment, in fact, making it through to where we are today is a sign that we are maturing just as we should be.

It is the the final verses that I feel the most keenly. Sometimes, the “language that keeps us alive” that we’ve been searching for on this endless, misguided roadmap is given to us by someone unexpected or found in unexpected places. And when we’re lost, we’re frustrated. But some things can only be achieved through simply living life as it is, and the fact that we’re right where we are now is a sign that we are, indeed, aging well.

I’m so glad that you finally made it here

With the things you know now, that only time could tell

Looking back, seeing far, landing right where we are

And oh, you’re aging, and I am aging.

Oh, aren’t we aging well?

Time As God

Can time be considered a religion? The deification of time in the modern world. 

Part of what makes any museum but especially the British Museum so well-loved is how it provides an easily accessible insight into cultural values. It should be an artfully chosen distillation of a community of the past, combining history, art, mathematics, and the physical being into one. Visiting the British Museum led me to realize exactly how much value modern Western cultures tend to place on time to the extent that it is arguably deified. The museum has curated a Clocks exhibition, where gold, silver, and every other type of precious metal adorn intricately designed clocks. They do not always have a practical use, admittedly, but then again, is a tabernacle really “practical” if you take faith out of it?

Like churches, mosques, and temples, clocks are constructed by the human hand with startling detail and care. Hours of toil go into crafting an elaborate exterior of a machine that very possibly is not even accurate, but which we believe has vital use to our daily lives because of how much we rely on time to keep our schedules in order. Religious edifices are beautiful because (1) people want to properly represent the perceived inherent value of the thing they are worshipping and (2) people know that viewing something as art will deter its destruction by rival hands. Similarly, the exteriors of these clocks convey the magnitude of worship individuals bestow on time – a golden ship, for example, evokes the idea of time as the ocean that we humans navigate on an endless passage. And who would, then, dare destroy the awe-inspiring representation before them, not just an image of human belief but a reminder of human potential for creating beauty?

Furthermore, like religion, for some people time can become a haunting, obsessive concept. What was once simply a guiding measure consumes them. Using religion as an excuse for mistreatment or even abuse of others is equivalent to justifying extreme hedonism with the idea of “our lives being short.” And just like how some people continuously impose their religious beliefs on others, some people impose their schedules on others to the extent that it becomes difficult to interact with them. “I have to make this appointment at exactly 12 pm. If I am five minutes late, then it is the end of the world.”

Time even arguably can perform the function of spiritual release. Religion brings release in that it affirms human potential but equally affirms insignificance in the eyes of a greater scheme of things. Time affirms human potential in the simplest of platitudes – “We’ve got time.” And yet, it denies it in every other facet, whether it be the incertitude of the future or the demonstration of individual insignificance in the grand scheme of eternity.
The thing I find above all intriguing, however, is that just like any religion, time is both divisive and unifying. It breaks us apart into the past and future but holds us to the present. For Westernized cultures, even in the present it carves up the world into zones but brings us back together in the fact that we are so attentive to a single numerical reading.
It is also important to note that I have been primarily describing the Western, “monochronic” view as presented in the British Museum. As there are branches within religions, there is also another “polychronic” view of time practiced by some southern European, Latin American, African, and Asian civilizations, where they prioritize experience over order. However, the presence of clocks throughout the histories of these civilizations – ranging from beautifully painted sundials, water clocks, and modern clocks alike – proves that time has always been a governing force as well throughout polychronic individual’s lives. Some may experience it differently, but it can’t be denied that everyone experiences time. [2]

Perhaps time is a hidden religion, and the only universal one at that. No one, regardless of ethnicity or personal beliefs, denies that time is ticking. Perception of time may vary slightly from culture to culture or even individual to individual, but we are all bound together by the fact that we all experience it in the first place.
[1] Featured image from


The Anatomy of Friendship



Is your friendship a lie?

At one point in our lives, we all ponder the questions: what is friendship? How can we tell our true friends from those who we simply hang around for convenience? Why are we attracted to certain people and not others? Why do friendships fall apart?

It’s something that people have all tried to answer many a time before. I’ve especially been wondering this as of late because of the emotional finale to the end of high school. For me, it ended on a very sour note, and I’m sure countless of other students had the same experience. Friendships tumble, and if they don’t tear apart right after school ends, they dissipate with the tides of time. We all just want to know why.

Continue reading “The Anatomy of Friendship”