a few years ago a friend recommended a book to me. it sounded interesting, but not essential at the time. i no longer remember what caused the title to come to me again . when it did, my life moved to another place, another level of awareness. i'm now reading from age-ing to sage-ing the second time around. it was published in 1995, and more relevant now than twenty-three years ago. it's authors, zalman schachter-shalomi and ronald s. miller, put forward a radical view of ageing. it is this view of ageing that inspires me to move beyond what society tells me is true about ageing.
instead the authors encourage me to elder.
"...when i refer to someone as eldering, the "ing" of the word refers to a state of growth and evolution, an active responsiblity for our destiny in old age, living by conscious chouce rather than social expectation."
i am then reminded that i have a choice in each moment to be an elder.they go on to say,
"we are not always elders; sometimes we are aging, crotchety,somewhat elderly people. but at any moment in the battle between the forces of aging and eldering,we can become conscious, snap out of the hypnotic trance induced by society and our own inertia, and do the inner work of eldering."
yes, sometimes i am crotchety and querulous, filled with frustration at the changes that ageing brings with it. and then i remember i can snap out of it. i can live in a different place, both inside myself and in the world. i can use the eldering skills of contemplateion, harvesting my life, preparing the legacy that i will leave those who live longer than i will and i can prepare for dying and death.these are the tasks of eldering, the processes that bring joy and meaning to the process of ageing. as schachter-shalomi and miller remind me...
"it's the difference between seeking safety and comfort, on the one hand, and reducing the ego and opening to the Spirit, on the other."
the choice is challenging, as all spiritual work is. the choice in rewarding, as all spiritual work is. and the choice is made, moment to moment, breath to breath, as all spiritual work is.this is the choice to stand in our power as elders.
i don't have anything to add to that! it might be a bit harsh, but i love the fire and passion in it!
have i given and received love?have i lived my own life or someone elses’s?have i left the world a better place?i’m not sure now where i read/heard this statement. it struck me deeply. is this true for all people, everywhere? does everyone ponder these questions as they come to the end of life?regardless of their universality, they are questions i want to ponder 
to become an elder is "another rite of passage". we have lived many of these passages over the years. we commonly think of them in terms of biology or social customs. many are easily recognised and validated. the passage into elderhood is unspoken, unseen and unvalued.how would you mark this passage?would it be a wild party, complete with champagne, when you reach one of the years that ends in '0'?
would it be a retreat to the countryside with a few select friends?
would it be a cruise to an exotic land?
would it be a sedate tea party?
would it be a ritual in sacred space?
would it be a trip down memory lane?
stepping into this new role we have new responsibilities and new pleasures (and probably a few new aches and pains). yes, it is our ageing that places the mantle of elderhood on our shoulders. what will we leave behind? what values have we embodied as examples for those that follow us? how have we lived our lives and what have we learned?the answers to these questions form our legacy, whether we tell our tales verbally to others, or we simply shine in our wholeness in each present moment. being the full humans that we are is enough. touching the hearts of others in some way is an extra helping of goodness. this is our contribution to humanity as we grow in years.this is the apprenticeship fulfilled that began decades ago, at a very young age, and has continued through our lifetime. 
this poem crossed my path as i sat, waiting for the dentist. so much to contemplate in atwood’s words, the words of a poet, an artist.she reminds me that my hands, like everything, are temporary. i’ve looked at my hands all my life. smooth and unmarked by experience they once were. today, the veins mark blue rivers of life across their backs. the knuckles, once small and almost invisible, are proud of the decades of movement. the skin once had no spots or lines or wrinkles. now the skin is decorated with all sorts of meandering pathways and earthy, brown orbs. temporary...ever-changing...like all of life.and atwood reminds me to share with other creatures, be they wild animals or well-civilised humans. i must leave a portion for others. i must surrender part of what comes to me for the community of beings.and most, importantly, the poet reminds me that “the best ones grow in the shadow”. it is here, in the less visible, in the darker spaces, that the juicy bits develop. it is here that the lessons of life, the lessons of ageing, reside, some hidden until we are willing to set them free. by doing so, we set ourselves free. it is the process of life repair...looking deep into our lives...that can lead to forgiveness. we can forgive ourselves and other for being human, each of us wanting only the best, gleaming blackberries.
the world is spinning. moving from place to place is more than a challenge. it’s frightening. i need to hold on to furniture, walls, doors in order to stay upright. i walk very slowly and very mindfully. the street is suddenly less safe. i can’t turn my head quickly to look out for traffic.finally, recovery happened.and the experience has left me in awe of people who live with balance challenges moment to moment.
it left me with greater empathy and compassion for people living with post-stroke issues. it left me feeling more open to people who are vulnerable on the pavement, more willing to offer assistance.being vulnerable in the wild means a predator will find you soon. do we have the same animal instinct to protect ourselves from being seen as vulnerable? is that why we want to look young and fit? certainly we all want to feel well and have a sense of engagement with the world around us. can we be vulnerable and engaged at the same time?being emotionally vulnerable sometimes means being healthy, available and open to experience, whatever the experience may be. in this instance, vulnerability is a positive, beneficial state of being. it is the state of responsiveness and spaciousness.i realise, in retrospect, that as the world was spinning, i could be both. i was certainly protective of my person, my physical self. at the same time, i was wide open to the anxiety, the sensations of nearly falling, the reaching out for support and the sense of being fully present to it all...including the desire for it to be over!this is a gift of spiritual practice. i learned a great deal through this uncomfortable experience. my heart opened in ways unforeseen. it opened to a possible older self, a possible more vulnerable self.