strange things happen on the bus.
being a frequent user of public transport i sometimes meet friends and acquaintances going in the same direction. i recently met someone i hadn’t seen in some time. i asked how she was doing and what she was doing, knowing that she’s very active politically. she told me she had recently been interviewed by a magazine about her history as a lesbian activist in london in the 70s.then she began to talk about her friends and comrades from that time who had died, and their funerals.she pondered aloud, “do we cry at funerals for our lost youth?”that gave me pause for thought, and much contemplation after i stepped off the bus.why do we cry at funerals?
i suppose there are as many reasons as there are people who shed the tears. for some it might be their lost youth, vitality, conviction that we could change the world. for others it might be the loss of the dead person in their life, the hole that cannot be filled by anyone except the person who has died. for yet others it might be the prospect of their own death and the fear that the thought engenders.facing our mortality is one of the sacred tasks of eldering. how do we hold our hardwiring to survive alongside the profound knowledge that we will die? ram dass, one of the greatest (and funniest) spiritual teachers of our generation, reminds us that “dying is absolutely safe. no one fails at it.” we will all go through the transitions from birth to life to death, no matter what the years of living have brought.the practice of surrender helps me to hold my certain death in my consciousness. carlos casteneda, another bright figure of the 60s and 70s, reminded us that death lives on our left shoulder. (while casteneda’s work has been questioned by anthropologists, the lesson here is worth learning regardless of whether it is a true yaqui teaching or not.)were we to live with that awareness, that continual knowledge, how would we live each day, each moment, each breath? were i able to actually sustain that awareness, i would breath with gratitude, act with love and speak with my highest intentions for all beings.in that way i would to go to my funeral undiminished, fulfilled and whole.
is it alzheimer's disease?
today i searched fruitlessly for a particular pen. i needed it for an artwork i was drawing.
only this pen would do! (though this is not an advertisement!)
i looked everywhere...the kitchen table where i do this work and the pen holders (obvious), the cutlery drawer, the kitchen thingy drawer, various desk drawers (less obvious, but possible). finally, i succumbed to the possibility that i might have tossed it, unthinkingly, into one of several rubbish bins (also possible).after carefully, mindfully searching, to no avail, i concluded the pen had gone to the fourth dimension where it would live (along with single socks, various keys and a pair of sunglasses) until it decided to re-join me.resignedly, i sat down again to draw and opened a pen, one that would suffice, but not as well ,and would demand more effort to get the effect i wanted.i removed the cap and (as you have already guessed) there it was, in my hand, ready to go to work! i had looked at the collection of pens on the table five, bloody times and it wasn’t there!!!! arghhhh!a big sigh of relief.and then the question...is it alzheimer’s disease?it seems that every slight slip of the memory cogs can bring forward this question. we try to joke about it, but in reality, fear lies behind the attempts at humour. this fear seems to be have over-taken cancer and heart disease as the biggest fear among those of us who are ageing. the prospect of loss of control seems more frightening than chemotherapy, radiation and surgery. the thought that we might not be able to recognise those we love or we might behave in seemingly irrational ways appears to be more frightening than open heart surgery.in her 2016 book this chair rocks: a manifesto against ageism, ashton applewhite tells us that only 4% of americans over 65 live in nursing homes. “90% of the remainder can think just fine.” she assures us that the vast majority of older americans are “slowed somewhat but fully capable of finding their slippers sooner or later and making their way in the world.” i imagine the same is true, to a large extent, in the UK and other developed countries.while 4% of the over 65s in the US is a large number of people, it is still a small proportion of the total. and, according to applewhite, only 10% of the over 85 population live in nursing homes.so why the fear? why the horror stories? there is no doubt that alzheimer’s disease and other forms of dementia are painful, distressing conditions. yet it is the anxiety about them that the true epidemic. i have yet to encounter someone over 65 who does not have this anxiety. i would venture a guess that the vast majority of the ageing population is plagued by it. and while public education about these conditions is welcome, it feeds the fear in those of us who will never live with them.certainly it behooves us all to engage in whatever precautions and practices we decide are necessary to prevent dementia. at the same time it is in our best interest to tame the beast of the anxiety about it. and it is here that the process of conscious ageing steps in. we can observe the anxiety, stand witness to it, acknowledge it and breathe our way through each time it arises. we can locate the anxiety somewhere in our body and sigh into it. we can use whatever helpful self-soothing, techniques we know. we can acknowledge that we are powerless over the future and commit to living fully in the present.next time i “lose” something or can’t remember when i’m meeting a friend for lunch or have to look for my slippers i will breathe into the process, let go of whatever amount of anxiety i can at the time. and i will remind myself that i am part of the great 96% that does not live in a nursing home right now.now where did i put my slippers?
florida
florida pier was born (1813) in orange park, florida, and educated at home until the age of ten. she grew up in pittsburgh, pennsylvania, then moved to new york city at age 15 to become an actress. in 1910 she married john scott maxwell and moved to her husband's native scotland, where she worked for women's suffrage and as a playwright. the couple divorced in 1929 and she moved to london. in 1933 she studied jungian psychology under carl jung and practised as an analytical psychologist in both england and scotland. she died in exeter, england in 1979. (thank you, wikipedia.)
portrait by amanda brewster sewell (c.1910)
in 1968 she published her most famous book, her reflections on ageing. the book is entitled the measure of my days. she was 85. her passion for ageing is inspiring and infectious. i'll be considering a few samples of her musings in future posts over the next little while. here's one i found particularly thought-provoking.
“you need only claim the events of your life to make yourself yours. when you truly possess all you have been and done, which may take some time, you are fierce with reality. when at last age has assembled you together, will it not be easy to let it all go, lived, balanced, over?”
..claim the events of my life...all of them...to hold with deep regard the times i have hurt others and myself is required in the process of being conscious in my eldering. to hold equally the times of loving and sharing is also required. i cannot claim only part of my life, the bits that bring smiles in memory. nor can i become immersed in the pain so that there is little else.to bring compassion to the hard times and to open to the evolution that has happened because of them is a joy. to discover that i am who i am, right now, because i have experienced them. and, in balance, to recall the times of passion and happiness is a marvel.all of these experiences are like the rings in a tree, marking the passing years. this is the "fierce reality". this is the excitement of our ageing. this is the "assembling together" of our ageing.my heart opens not only to my past self, but to all who have had similar experiences. that means every single human on the planet! and this opening, florida tells us, will make us ours, not someone else’s, but our own.then we can let go and then we can step fully, truly into ourSelf.
shavasana~~~part two
shavasana is simple, but not necessarily easy. it is, after all, a preparation for death.to make the practice accessible, here are some simple guidlines.lie down, on your back, on the floor, if that’s comfortable for you, and if you can easily get up from the floor. it’s fine to use a yoga or exercise mat or a folded blanket for cushioning. a bed or sofa will be just fine if that’s more appealing. if you like, place a cushion under your head and a rolled towel or blanket under your knees to ease your lower back. if you feel okay to cover your eyes, please do so...an eye pillow or a scarf work just fine.
then, once you’re comfortable, begin to relax and surrender each part of your physical self by settling into the support of the floor (or bed/sofa). let the support rise up meet your body and allow it embrace you so that you don’t have to ‘hold’ your body.with your physical self more tranquil, begin to attend to your breath. simply observe the flow of breath out and breath in. notice where in your body you experience the breath...nostrils, upper chest, back, belly. it could be anywhere...simply notice without judgement.
when your breath has calmed and has become regular and steady, allow your attention to focus on your mind. notice if it wanders, jumping from thought to thought like a monkey. simply notice...and allow the thoughts to arise and fade away. imagine your mind to be the vast open space of sky, your thoughts are the clouds that simply float across the sky of your mind.
thinking is the nature of the mind, just as digestion is the nature of the gut. so allow your mind to ‘have’ the thoughts without following their story. these are simply thoughts, not imperatives. slowly, you may notice there is more space between the cloud thoughts and they hold your attention more loosely.when body, breath and mind are calm, notice how you are. become aware of the deep sense of peace, of letting go, of simply being....being exactly where and how you are.this is the opportunity for surrender.this is the opportunity for shavasana, the corpse pose...serene, receptive and united.this is the opportunity of spiritual eldering.
shavasana~~~part one
as yoga has become more popular and mainstream" many of us have discovered its amazing benefits to our bodies. only occasionally will a teacher share the deeper levels of yoga practice. there is one asana/pose that suffers especially from this lack of attention.most yoga teachers call it "final relaxation". that's a misnomer. a few might be brave enough to call it "corpse pose". that's more accurate. shava means 'corpse' in sanskrit. asana literally means 'seat', or 'a place to be'. shavasana is a place to be like a corpse.
this ending to a yoga class is designed to bring us as close to the experience of death as we might have while still alive. i consider it the most difficult pose in the yoga canon. i had the privilege of teaching yoga for many years and my students always looked surprised when i made this statement. how could this relaxation posture be so difficult, even more difficult than headstand or the full lotus? how could simply lying on the floor be the most challenging pose?to come to complete stillness in body, breath and mind is a remarkable feat, one that yoga practitioners explore for a lifetime. this is the most important yoga practice there is...the preparation for death.when we enter into shavasana there is certainly a sense of relaxation. as we go deeper, there is the realisation of profound openness and coherence, wholeness, oneness...union. the word yoga itself means 'union', and shavasana is the opportunity to experience that state. or we can aspire to and practice entering that state! we elders, who are approaching the end of our time alive, can consciously rehearse, so to speak, without going to a formal yoga class.we can prepare, consciously, for dying and death in order to live life with greater awareness, deeper gratitude and more abundant joy.
(shavasana, part two, will be posted shortly. please visit again.)
did i say "i would never..."????
yes, i said i would never join a gym. smelly, dirty, too much flesh for my taste and too much attention to the image in the mirror.
sigh...i’ve joined a gym.this one is small, clean, fresh and populated by people who care about themselves, many over 50. what a relief! this huge change happened as i recovered from a 4-week long relationship with environmental toxins. the toxic exposure left me with intense lung irritation and respiratory difficulties for which there was “no” cure. so i decided to do steam inhalations. lo and behold, the old-fashioned worked wonders.
my slow recovery and recuperation inspired me to strengthen my body and to explore my body at 71. off i went to the gym, paid my money and received the usual cursory introduction to a few warm-ups and a few machines. oh well...i’ve booked a session with a personal trainer for more personal instruction more suited to who i am...sigh.after a swim today i had an insight. i recognised that this process is about much more than my body. it is about creating and maintaining a sacred space for Spirit to live in me. i want this temple to be a space of energy and love, a space for expansion of my consciousness. keeping the temple in good order is part of service to myself as an elder, as well as service to that which is outside me. the energy i contribute, simply by being, is vital to the functioning of the whole. when that energy is vibrant, i am able to give the most i have.i also recognised, after the swim, that there are times when the energy in my temple is at a low ebb, where my contribution is less about with what i do, and more about who, and how, i am in myself. even while my physical self dealt with the toxic exposure i was aware that my essential self was just fine.the temple structure continues on its way, flowing and ebbing, while that which is housed in the sacred space can stay connected, open, compassionate, tranquil and loving.