Owning the Time Left

I find myself thinking it’s too late for many things, but is it?

As a member of the elder tribe, I find that I can easily slip into a sense of things being over, of it being too late for anything major, of even wondering what purpose I may serve or is this the do the best you can until you die time.

To give a bit of background, I came from a family where my parents began talking about being too old for many things while they were still in their 40’s. So, yes, this was not a great message to start with.

Our society doesn’t help that message either. We glorify youth, the future, making plans, working toward goals, and all that the earlier parts of our lives can offer, if we have the opportunities and means. These are all wonderful parts of life, but is that all that there is?

It seems that, once we reach a certain age, it is easier to believe in and wear the cloak of invisibility that is thrust upon us, to believe that we are on the sidelines, now that we have supposedly ended the productive, useful, vibrant part of our lives. We are portrayed as cute, infirm, nonsexual, forgetful, doddering, to be smiled at with an attitude that implies that we are somehow less than.

This is interesting, given that we have already lived full lives, and now suddenly we are to get off the carousel, sit on the sidelines, and smile lovingly from a distance and from the land of observer versus participant. Why?

And even more distressing to me, what I discover these days is the internal judge and commander within me who buys into this attitude and reminds me of it constantly. Sit home, don’t do that, don’t try that, you can’t do that, your time has passed and you lost the chance, you are too old, this is beyond you….you get the gist. You can probably add your own versions of these messages.

I am not discounting the changes that come with aging. Changes in my body, in my flexibility, in my strength, in my memory, sharpness of mind, or speed of thought… I see and feel them all. And I must adjust to these changes as needed.

Are these reasons to stop living as fully as I might?

One thing that I think that I need to do is to look within and see if my negative internal messages might be justifications, excuses so that I don’t have to face my fears of failing, looking foolish, or being judged and laughed at. I talk about not caring nearly as much about what others think anymore, and to an extent, this is true and one of the gifts of aging. But, if I look more deeply within and watch my own actions, I have to wonder if there is still part of me that bends to the ever present internal judge, the rules (both internal and external) , the admonitions, the commandments for how to be old.

I think that these days I feel this even more sharply, given the catastrophic changes that are happening in our country and in the world. I can easily feel that sense of defeat, hopelessness, powerlessness, with not enough time or energy within me left to fight. With enough messages and actions thrown at us every day, we can become disoriented, lose focus, feel as if we are powerless and that there is nothing left to do. And if we are older, we can feel that way even more intensely with thoughts that we may not even live long enough to see things turn around.

It’s time to challenge the dictators (inside and out), to look at the messages and challenges in a different way, to remember who we have been, what our strengths are, and to once again use them to participate fully however we can in our lives.

With our country and the world, we can decide to join where we may be useful, contribute in ways that we can, encourage hope, light, and kindness as well as to protest when we see evil, discrimination, hatred and division. We can look more at where the messages are being sent from instead of pointing fingers at each other, distracted and divided. We can still be active members of this country, of the America that I still believe in, the one that I grew up in, the one that my parents fought hard to come to and came to deeply love and appreciate and taught me to do the same.

And with my journey of aging, perhaps I can realize that there is more inside me than the internalized rules and admonitions about aging. I still have the hopes and delights of the young girl, the dreams and passions of youth, the laughter and love for life. These things don’t get old, they just get pushed into being quieter. Perhaps I don’t have to be so quiet and can live out loud as an elder. Perhaps we can age proudly and loudly.

We can claim our right to still be here, to still participate fully, to enjoy life and each other, to encourage the next generations and be examples of how to keep living, keep fighting, keep hoping, keep loving and keep being present until the very end.

It’s not over yet, not by a long shot.

Writing from the Storm

Chaos all around me. I need to write again.

I can’t find my center these days. The crisis and turmoil of our country and the world stir endlessly inside me. I try and take breaks, like from the news, but it is still happening and I am still reacting, as are so many of us.

What happened? How did we get here? And how did we become so divided? When did being mean and cruel, condescending to other world leaders, contentious and provocative to our neighbors, hateful toward any who do not agree, censoring and banning words, books, and any opposition…when did these things become acceptable? When did we throw out the Constitution and rule of law. When did this country decide to move toward becoming a monarchy and no longer a democracy.

I haven’t been able to focus, to write, to paint, to do much of anything except the very basics. I feel lost and off balance. I know that I am not alone, and talking with others who are of like mind helps for a bit. But the chaos continues to come.

So, one question becomes, how do we figure out the best way to take care of ourselves?

Watching too much news is not good, I know. As someone said, it’s a fine line between keeping informed and maintaining our mental health.

I contribute to causes and fights. I will figure out where and how I can best devote time and energy.

But I must keep also fighting for the survival of myself. The self who writes, the self who paints, the self who goes for walks in the redwoods, the self who remembers to laugh and most importantly, to take deep long breaths.

I am older, and I have seen many things come and go, have survived things, have seen major shifts and changes. I know that things keep changing. But sometimes it’s hard to stay balanced when the pendulum has swung to such an extreme.

I still believe in the power of kindness and love. So, I can, as an act of rebellion (but mostly because it is who I want to be) continue to be kind wherever and whenever I can, given that I am human and not always successful. But, most of the time, I think that I am kind. And there are also times when boundaries need to be set, when anger lets us know that something is wrong and needs paying attention to.

All this stress and division can make us ill. I can feel the cortisol flowing through my body, and that’s not good. It causes inflammation. I am inflamed in many ways, I think. Can I turn that fire around and aim it where needed? Can it become a fire of truth, conviction, values, and belief in love? Can it join with others to flame the feeling of That’s enough. No more. We are better than this. We can do better. We cannot quietly accept what we see happening around us that has left so many of us lost, confused and not knowing which way to turn.

So today I am writing, and grateful. I am not going to worry about how much to edit. I just need to write and send it out, to let the voice inside me know that I still hear her and will let her out into the world, at a time when we are being threatened for speaking our truth, when institutions are being threatened when they don’t follow the new rules, when free speech itself is being strangled.

And I will pull out a canvas and start a sketch, to allow that side of me to express itself as well, no matter what may show itself on the canvas. That needs to be ok.

We must not allow our inner voices, feelings, sadness, frustration, and anger be quieted. We cannot allow the shock and confusion and utter disbelief to stop the life within us and the life between us. We are not enemies. We are humans trying to sort through this life, and we need to come together, have discussions, stop calling each other names. I can try to understand your point of view, why you have done things that you have done, and I ask the same from you. Our system was not perfect, by any means, but it was not broken to the point of having to be completely destroyed, I think.

Can we come back together? Can we salvage this. Can we stop any further damage. Can we heal. I don’t know the answers. So, for today, I will write, I will start a sketch, I will reach out to friends, and I will sit quietly in prayer to the Universe, for us all.

An Uber Ride with Benefits

No, not THAT kind of benefit!

As I continue my walk through this land of elderhood, I continue to be surprised by the random gifts and moments of shared experiences and smiles that can come from such unexpected places.

The other day, I had just dropped my car off at the dealer to get it serviced and was waiting for an Uber driver to take me home. I slipped into the car, said hello, and we were on our way.

These rides can be so unique. Some drivers are quiet, some quite talkative, and some seem to try and sense how you are. This was a man who told me that he had just dropped off his son at school, his son being 13. Oh, I said, the start of the teenage years! He laughed, said yes, and said that his son was a good kid.

He asked what I had planned for the day.

This is such a different question for me since I have retired. I did have plans for the day, but they are certainly different than what I might have said when working, or when running errands on weekends. Do I tell the truth? What will that sound like, I wondered? But, since my goal is to live more authentically these days, I told him that I was going to be doing some writing and some painting.

To my surprise, he seemed delighted with my response. Really, he asked. All that? And he then went on to share that he also loved to paint and to write. As he told me more about himself, he talked about having worked in many different jobs in his life, such as a firefighter, a paramedic, and other different positions. He said that his primary goal was to spend time with his son while he grew up, to be able to be with him as much as possible and to not spend too much of that precious time to any one job. He talked about his son with such love and tenderness, and how happy he was that he had made this choice. As a matter of fact, he went on to say, he and his son had talked about selling a lot of the stuff that they had accumulated in the house so that he could continue spending more time with his son (like coaching his sport teams) and went on to say that he could continue to work at odd jobs to make money to pay the bills.

It was such a delight to hear his story, how much heart he had in the decisions that he was making, how happy he was to have this time with his son, how he had no regrets about his choices and how he hoped that he would be a model for his son when he had his own children.

Here was someone who was living their values to the best of their ability, who was walking the walk and not just talking the talk.

I shared a bit about how, since I had retired, I now had time to do the things that I loved, such as writing, painting, walking in the redwoods, taking classes that I enjoyed, and relishing in solitude when I needed it. I went on to say how I thought that it was wonderful that he was doing this now, not waiting for retirement, to live his life, to enjoy his family, to make choices from his heart and figure out how to make those choices work.

He seemed to be pleased with my comments and encouragement. And I loved being able to be an elder at that moment and let him know how wonderful I thought that what he was doing was, how he was really thinking about what was important and then building his life around that, how he was being as true to what he believed in.

A ride of a few minutes turned into an instant connection. By the time I got out of the car, we both talked about how pleased we were to have met each other. And when I gave him a tip and told him to have a coffee on me, he smiled and said that in fact, he had not had a chance to have his coffee yet that morning and was delighted to have a coffee on me.

Here it was again, I thought. A random moment of connection that changed the course of my day, that made me smile and helped me feel as if I had touched souls with someone for a moment in time. It didn’t matter that I would most likely never see him again. What mattered was that moment in time that we shared. That understanding and affection expressed between total strangers made a difference, I think, in both of our days. I know that it did for me.

There are surprises and gifts everywhere, sometimes in the most random places and when you least expect them. I am reminded to be open, to breathe into each moment and see what might be offered there, and to cherish each gift in this precious time on earth. Each moment can contain a lifetime, an eternity, a grace, and gift, now that, as an elder, I am slowing down enough to see it, hear it, feel it, and be in it.

These moments are what I often remember that make me smile. And isn’t that the point of it all? To smile, to connect, to share, to love, to hold each other’s hands while, as Rumi wrote, “we’re all just walking each other home.”