I have many daily opportunities to think about what it means for me to get old. In spite of everything my culture tells me, getting old is really not so bad. In fact, I am finding it exciting and full of opportunity. I am walking through many open doors, and not shutting down or being shut down as much as my culture led me to expect.
Even Thay seems to regard growing “old” as something we cannot escape. Not exactly a positive endorsement of something to look forward to.
For me, growing old has meant letting go of things. I have had to let go of many physical expectations and skills, such as running up and down stairs. My physical strength is clearly not what it once was, and there are those unwelcome pains that come with so many movements.
These body changes have actually presented me with opportunities. They actually make me more bodily-aware. I am much more attentive to how I move and where all the parts of my body are. I now exercise in a much more intentional manner, and some parts of me, such as my back, are not only stronger but seem happier. I debate with myself whether my moving slowly is because I can’t move quicker or if it is simply my approach to walking meditation. I do get much more out of my walk into Target than I did ten years ago.
I am aware that not all the positive qualities I am finding in getting old are experienced automatically or by every person my age. But getting old has presented me with opportunities and open doors I never expected.
I have found a new person inside of me, and the world I live in is much more enchanting, more magical, more mystical, more difficult to understand. So much of what I previously understood, is now an inviting mystery waiting to be explored.
The old me now realizes that no rules apply to me unless I decide to embrace them. It is my choice, no one else’s, and especially not my culture’s. For so many years, I have seen the world through the bars of my culture, and they have set the norms on how I should act. I now know that my culture’s view and messages have often been misleading and often dead wrong. Yet they have penetrated and strangled my heart. No more.
This is my time for me to question and unlearn so much of what the culture has taught me.
I am stepping out of the myth of brain atrophy, and taking heart with the good news from neuroscience about brain plasticity. I’ve inserted myself among young minds and gone back to college. I read and write more than I ever have. I’m beginning to question the reality of memory loss; I still joke about it, but I’m not sure it is true. I actually remember more of those things I’m interested in, such as flowers.
I have developed an intolerance with social distance, and now reach out for a new intimacy with most people I meet. Less handshakes, more hugs. I enjoy the gradual wearing down of boundaries. Much of my elite ego has been overthrown. Maybe winter is the best time to trim the ego.
I have uncovered a radiant inner life. There is an energy I easily tap into. I have become a little intoxicated with life. I had no idea what good stuff was hidden in the basement.
I think this vitality in old age is due to my experience of the magic and wisdom of mindfulness. It seems such a simple thing, all I had to do was relax and grow in my ability to quiet my mind. Little by little, I have discovered my body and my mind, and the two have become one. It is a new world.
I am learning to turn pain, anxiety and suffering into compost, and then nourish the blooming of flowers.
It turns out that you can teach old dogs new tricks.