the ‘nasty virus’ has taken it’s toll. too many days spent in bed, on the sofa, seeking entertainment as i spluttered through several boxes of tissues and coughed as if i were a smoker!finally, recovery happened.and then, post viral vertigo.
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.
what is wisdom?
when i began writing this blog i realised i would have more questions than answers. the very awareness of the questions has changed my perception of ageing, and that of countless others who are no longer willing to live in the old paradigm.as i continue to write, i am aware of my use of the word ‘wisdom’. i assume we all know what that means. do we? here’s the dictionary definition and some synonyms.
“the quality of having experience, knowledge, and good judgement; the quality of being wise.” (i really don’t like it when a word itself is used in its own definition!)“sagacity, sageness, intelligence, understanding, insight, perception, perceptiveness, percipience, penetration, perspicuity, acuity, discernment, sense, good sense, common sense, shrewdness, astuteness, acumen, smartness, judiciousness, judgement, foresight, clear-sightedness, prudence, circumspection”
as i peruse these words it strikes me that we each might think of them differently...some of those differences may lie in political/social/racial/gender/economic issues. for instance, one might be regarded as having "foresight" by preparing a will and advance directives. or, one’s foresight might be reflected in a shrug of the shoulders, implying that the future will bring what it does regardless of preparation.and "judgement"...now that’s a word that carries a lot of freight. are we, as elders, in a position to make judgements that have effects on others? every time we vote, we declare a judgement that we have made, based on what we think is our wisdom and our wishes for the future. with many countries so deeply divided, have we made wise judgements?irrespective of one’s position, each of those words has a spiritual sense, a sense of gravitas and respect. these are qualities we have been told are inherent in older people. but are they? does one gain "acumen" or "discernment" simply by living into one’s sixth or seventh or eighth decade? do we acquire "common sense" or "prudence" by living by someone else’s rule book, following the advice to save and ‘make arrangements’?how can we express our wisdom, our experience, our knowledge in a society that blames us for both creating the mess we’re in and for holding back those younger than we are? somehow, it seems to be all our fault. and truth is hard to find. in spite of the headlines, we are a minority. and, as other minorities have found, our age is not the problem, just as gender/skin colour/sexual preference/disability are not the problem.ageism is the problem, just as sexism/racism/homophobia/ableism are the problem.we can learn from other minorities, and their successes in the last few decades. we can bring our wisdom to bear on the creation of a new paradigm for we perennials, just as others have created new social norms.we all have a long way to go in creating just societies...and we are on the path!
is it age or is it cytokines?
okay, it’s winter and you have a cold/flu/whatever. you feel achey, tired, unmotivated. really, all that appeals are silly novels and massive amounts of telly.
you might just be able to manage a periodic steam inhalation to enable breathing for a while. the rest of the time is spent horizontal, either in bed or on the sofa, for a change of scene.you’ve lost your appetite, and maybe an ounce or two around your waist. drinking herbal infusions, occasionally consuming a slice of toast with butter and jam, and blowing your nose seem to be the occupations of endless days and nights.we’re told that as we age it takes longer to recover our strength, vitality and interest in life. but, is it age or is it a group of very wise cells called cytokines?
these cells send messages to our bodily systems and brain to cut down our energy expenditures when our immune system is challenged. therefore, no complicated or challenging reading, no learning, no energy put into digestion or thinking or moving around. essentially they tell us, in no uncertain terms, to withdraw and rest until we can function again.it seems to me, these cells carry in them the wisdom of survival, no matter what our age. and, it seems to me, they have an important lesson to teach us as perennials. stop, rest, turn inward.so, it may not be age after all that is responsible for this slow recuperation. it may also not be responsible for the normal memory lapses, adjustments to walking speed, the desire to contemplate, or the need to create meaning. these are all normal, human activities, regardless of our age.and, these amazing cells, teach us those lessons in the most mundane of circumstances...a nasty cold virus!in the process of recuperation, there is joy in emerging from the rule of cytokines. we can think clearly again, find motivation to continue the activities we love, renew social contacts and once again engage in the practices of eldering...meditation, life review, connection and walking the path of wisdom.
in search of a word
the article below was sent to me at the end of 2017. i've been sitting with it for these several months and decided to post it in full. enjoy!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In Search of a Word That Won’t Offend ‘old’ PeopleWashington Post December 29, 2017
by Laura L. CarstensenLaura L. Carstensen is professor of psychology and the Fairleigh S. Dickinson Jr. professor in public policy at Stanford University.
We hear a lot about aging societies these days. At the same time, we hear relatively little about being old from older people themselves. In part, this is because most people in their 60s, 70s and older still don’t think of themselves as “old.” We often refer to old people in the third person.As long as we are healthy and engaged in life — as most people in their 60s, 70s and older are — we don’t view ourselves as old. But by using “they” rather than “we” in our minds and our conversations, we keep an entire stage of life at arm’s length. By failing to identify with “old,” the story about old people remains a dreary one about loss and decline.Language matters: We need a term that aging people can embrace.For years, I’ve thought that we should just start calling ourselves old and be proud of the fact that we’ve reached advanced ages. Maggie Kuhn, who co-founded the anti-ageism group Gray Panthers, also took this position.
I first heard Kuhn speak in the late 1970s at the meetings of the Gerontological Society of America. A distinguished geriatrician introduced her in a hotel ballroom to a standing-room-only crowd. He concluded his gracious introduction by saying something to the effect of, “And now it is my great pleasure to give you this impressive young lady.” Kuhn ambled to the podium, stood silent for a moment, pulled the microphone down to her mouth (she was as short as she was fierce) and slowly and forcefully said, “Two things: I am not young, and I’m no lady. I am an old woman. And the fact that you cannot call me what I am without insulting me illustrates the depth of the problem we face.”I instantly idolized her. But embracing the term “old” is probably a fool’s errand. Over the past 40 years or so, I’ve tried to persuade people to use the word “old” proudly, but I have so far failed to get a single person to do so. In fact, even I avoid “old” for fear that the term might offend.Alternative terms range from distant but respectful to outright patronizing. None of them are appealing to old people. The most widely used are “senior citizens,” “retirees,” “the elderly” and “elders.” Then there are the derogatory terms, such as “geezers” and “coots,” mostly whispered behind closed doors. And there are terms such as “sages,” which frankly go too far in the opposite direction, as plenty of old people are a far cry from wise. Some people prefer the comfortably familiar term “boomers.” But then what do we call Gen Xers and millennials when they grow old?There are those who argue that we need to distinguish the young-old from the old-old. Although I suspect this is touted mostly by baby boomers who want to deny that they are old, it’s true that 65-year-olds are not the same as 95-year-olds. It’s also true that chronological age is a poor marker of functioning. Even though the young-old differ from the old-old, there is tremendous heterogeneity within age groups. The functional status of “old people” has also shifted substantially over historical time. A century ago, 40 was old. Today’s older generations are healthier, more cognitively fit and better educated than any previous generation.So, what do we call old people?The Stanford Center on Longevity, which I direct, strives to develop a culture that supports long life, and we recognized early that language matters. Most people say that they don’t want to grow old, but they also want to live a long time. Yet, we’ve never settled on a good term for old people.Last spring, I met Maureen Conners, a fascinating woman who works in fashion technology, an emerging longevity industry (that is, a business providing the needs of older people, including education, travel and entertainment). She uses the word “perennials” to refer to older customers.Upon first hearing this term, I was startled. The symbolism it connotes is perfect. For one, “perennials” makes clear that we’re still here, blossoming again and again. It also suggests a new model of life in which people engage and take breaks, making new starts repeatedly. Perennials aren’t guaranteed to blossom year after year, but given proper conditions, good soil and nutrients, they can go on for decades. It’s aspirational.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~what do you think? would you adopt the term 'perennial' to describe yourself? what does it mean to you?i'm going to try it on!
illness...prayer
as we age, illness often accompanies our days. sometimes the illness is chronic and serious; sometimes it is acute, an ‘ordinary’ cold.
regardless, there is the accompanying sense of disconnection and isolation. our internal and external states seem to set us apart from others.illness is also said to be an obstacle to spiritual practice. my experience of a recent cold put paid to that notion. it is true, i found my usual spiritual practice a serious challenge. it requires concentration, which eluded me while my head was full of snot, breathing was near impossible and a cough continually interrupted my attempts to focus.
i gave up.i then noticed that i could pray. i have never really understood prayer, not from a place in my heart. suddenly, it made sense. a found myself opening my heart to others who were suffering. i found myself opening to people in war-torn parts of the world. it didn’t matter which part of the globe. sadly, there is always ample choice. i found myself opening to people living with illness and disease. here too, it didn’t matter which illness. there are always many from which to choose. i found myself opening to people who had been on the receiving end of violence. here too, it didn’t matter which form of violence or who was the perpetrator. there are, sadly, too many choices available.my heart cracked open in the midst of sneezes and coughs, remedies and nostrums, to bring me into connection with all who suffer. i was not isolated or disconnected after all. prayer brought me into contact with them all.and what was my prayer?it was not a request for them to be safe, whole, happy, peaceful and loved, though i certainly wished that for all. it was not a plea for revenge against those who harm, though i certainly wished for their healing. it was not a hope for disease to be eradicated, though i certainly wished for an end to the pain and suffering we experience.no. my prayer was simply an opening in my heart...an opening to the pain and suffering and the willingness to sit with the heartbreak. the place of a heart broken open is glorious as the same moment as it is devastating. there is a deep sense of comfort along with the experience of searing distress. there is an acceptance of the fragility of life and the magnificence of each breath.
from that moment, i found peace with my ego's misery and held as much pain and glory as possible as i walked the path of healing my nasty head cold.(i have several times, heard a story of a group of tibetan buddhist monks who took on a practice of serving the pain of the world. they simply wept for seven days.)
worry
i worried
i worried a lot.will the garden grow,will the rivers flow in the right direction,will the earth turn as it was taught,and if not how shall i correct it?was i right, was i wrong,will i be forgiven,can i do better?will i ever be able to sing, even the sparrowscan do it and i am, well, hopeless.is my eyesight fading or am i just imagining it,am a going to get rheumatism,lockjaw, dementia?finally i saw that worrying had come to nothing.and gave it up.and took my old bodyand went out into the morning,and sang.
~~mary oliver
