As we get older, we face a lot of challenges. Our looks change, our strength wanes, we lose loved ones, and we’re minimized by society. We try to celebrate the good and stay positive, but so much about getting older is difficult, and there’s not a darned thing you can do about it.
Except this:
“The one thing that is up to you is whether you will see getting old as a tragedy, or embark upon it as another of life’s great adventures.”
What an empowering statement. I borrowed it from Dr. Carol Orsborn’s new book, Fierce with Age: Chasing God and Squirrels in Brooklyn. For a more complete review, see the lower right margin of your screen. I first learned about Carol Orsborn’s point of view when I read this wonderful post. In it, she says, “What a waste of the human potential it is to define successful aging — or life, for that matter — in youth-centric terms of productivity, activity and vigor.” She goes on.
…those of us who can grow large enough to embrace the dark side of aging can organically have what the Eastern traditions call an “awakening.” We don’t need books to help us understand the transitory nature of life. We’re living it.
I love her idea that we’re on a path to enlightenment as we age. It’s such a positive way of looking at things.
Contrast that with the discouraging tone in Susan Jacoby’s Never Say Die: The Myth and Marketing of the New Old Age. I wrote about it here. Yes, there’s some truth to what Jacoby says, like why would you become wise in old age if you’ve been average-to-stupid all your life.
The two authors view old age through different perspectives. If I were dealing with grief, ill health, or other horrific negatives, for example, that could change my perspective. I regret to say that, around the time she wrote her book, Susan Jacoby was caring for a loved one during a lingering illness.
In exercising choice, I decided to stop playing the youth game. Oh, sure, I tried it. I got Botox a few times, and once I even did filler in my lip area to try to combat the deepening purse-string effect. But I felt like a fraud. Plus those needles hurt. Did you know before they give you filler the doctor comes at you with one of those painkiller needles they use at the dentist? The ones that look like they are meant for horses? But I digress.
Back to the idea of choice in older age: it’s a rich new phase we’re in, Second-Halfers. You can change your perspective and decide how you want to see things. Look closely: the lock on your jail cell is rusting. If you give the door a push, you might be able to break free, scamper down the hall and out the door into the sunlight.
Great article and quote Lynne. Very thought provoking. I also liked this quote taken from the Amazon book page: “Plummet into aging, stare mortality in the eye, surrender everything and what else is there left to fear? The way is perilous, danger on all sides. But we can be part of a generation no longer afraid of age. We are becoming, instead, a generation fierce with age.”
If you ever like to write about this topic (or something else) at 40PlusStyle, let me know!
Thanks, Sylvia. Hope to see you around in the future, and best wishes with your blog!
I love your closing metaphor and message!
Thanks, Lisa. I hope you’ll stop by often – after this, your comments will post automatically. See you around.
Lynne, you comment in response to Bob is very wise. Thank you for going deeper into the question of coping with suffering. I admire your decision to deliberately focus on the positive, not as a way of denying the pain of aging but as a way of celebrating what joy can be found in these years, in this process, on this journey. And I agree that connection and compassion are some of our most powerful tools against despair.
Thanks, Sarah. There’s nothing we can do about being mortal, or as Bob puts it, the reality of the tightening noose – nothing to stop it, that is. But given that we’re alive, we can choose how to best use our time, and to accept that there is magic in this dimension, that of human interaction. I appreciate your comments.
With apologies, I am going to assume. I assume that you and I share one thing, we are both early old. We have only experienced some of the loss that comes with age. There is more to come. So, while I agree, there are many in our shoes who could benefit with the philosophy of those of us who are dealing well with early old, how do we prepare ourselves for an ever tightening noose? I was with a man yesterday who for sixty plus years was in a care giving profession. His enthusiasm for others is still readily apparent. He spoke with excitement of he and his wife having a retirement home with 400 feet of lake front. Then, suddenly, his eyes teared up and his voice cracked as he spoke of his anguish of caring for his wife as she tried to deal with dozens of her physically diminished capacities.
See, that’s the thing, Bob. There is so much that is overwhelming about getting older – let’s just say it: closer to death. I’m not wise enough to know how to counsel a person about how to deal with the reality of it. Much of what I write about is raging against the inevitability of decline and death by being appreciative and at peace while we still can. Because things change, and it can get very much worse, and then how do you deal with it?
Mostly, I attempt to mitigate the reality of what lies ahead. Partly that’s because I grew up in a very negative household. As an adult I learned to believe the positive until I knew otherwise, because I couldn’t predict the future, and I came to understand that sometimes, things turned out okay. So I stopped what I and my siblings called “negative fantasizing.” .
Even more honestly, sometimes I think death becomes, for some of us, an attractive end result. I remember my mother-in-law refusing to have her legs amputated. She was already wracked by emphysema and many other maladies, although her brain was sharp. I remember when we’d visit her at home, there was a length of clear hose on the floor, conveying oxygen from the canister to wherever she sat. At the end, when offered the option of amputation, she chose death. “I miss ___,” she said, naming her late husband. It was hard to argue. And she was a non-believer.
Back to your question, how do we deal with an ever-tightening noose? I don’t know. I have a history of frightening (due to improper diagnoses and incompetent treatment) illnesses and ailments, starting very young. So I assume at some point it’ll happen again. And again, and again. I have designed my own strategy for dealing with a lot of it. I admit, some of it is avoidance. I distract myself, think about other things, find something to get excited about. But that’s if it’s me. If it’s another person who’s sick and I’m the caregiver, I’m not so good at coping.
When my husband had hip replacement surgery, I ended up with my own cardiologist. I wasn’t good at taking care of myself during this overwhelming period. That was when I was about 50. I would hope, as I mature, I’ll be better at maintaining my own health if I have to care for him. I think it would have been a big help if somebody had come over to my house and relieved me to go see a movie, go out to a restaurant, or something. Take a walk. I didn’t know enough to ask. I think I will look for help when (not if) it happens again.
Lastly, the tightening noose again: I have heard it said that man, being the only creature who is aware of his own mortality, is also the only creature who has also been given the gift of compassionate interaction. That’s not the actual name of the gift; I’ll try to find the writings that support this so I can do a better job of explaining, but from my memory, this is the element that causes perfect strangers to risk their own safety, reaching into a burning car to save another human. It’s the thing that causes us to feel better when we help, or when we receive help. It’s the thing that can make you cry with all your heart for a person you don’t even know, or rally to ease the pain of another. The thinking is that our brain chemistry changes temporarily while in this helping, compassionate mode. (If so, what better evidence could there be of a God, asks the agnostic Lynne.)
If I were that man’s friend, I would do whatever possible to help him as he helps her. If I were the one sensing the noose, I’d do whatever possible to delay the reckoning, or to make it possible to accept the outcome with a peaceful heart.
What fantastic words of advice and encouragement, Lynne. I have a Maya Angelou quote on my bulletin board: You can either become an old female or a wise woman. I choose the double-W version – and reminders like yours here are appreciated for when I lean toward the former.
Love that quote. She’s a wise woman, for sure. Thanks, Barb.
Thanks Lynne, as always a very positive post. What a great Friday post.
Deb
Thanks, Deb. Good to hear from you.
Another fine post, Lynne.
Thanks, Peggy. Miss you.
Miss you, too.
It may be that Susan Jacoby was reacting to a sense that the “New Old Age” involves changing the old stereotype of decline and decay to a new stereotype of wisdom and enlightenment with age.
Or perhaps it is a matter of perspective. As you say, “If I were dealing with grief, ill health, or other horrific negatives, for example, that could change my perspective.”
Here’s where things get really complicated. My perspective is that I can control my health–not just my feelings about it–to a great extent. For example, 10 years ago I was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes, but I’ve managed it well all that time (by diet and exercise) and have no long-term damage. I’m not wise enough to sort out why people react so differently when faced with a similar challenge.
Madeleine, I have a lot of respect for you, and maybe that’s why I originally read your comment as, “I’m wise enough not to sort out why people react so differently when faced with a similar challenge.” And I think that’s the truth, too. Good to hear from you.
Lynne,
I greatly enjoyed the post and the book review, and I intend to read the book. This point of view is essential, I think, if you’re going to have a chance at finally relaxing into your life after all the striving that most of us get lost in during our “first half.” If you sit still in a quiet place in your mind and watch your thoughts long enough, you will eventually realize that most of that striving is completely irrelevant to both the present moment and the future. And I’ve found, as I look back, that it was all just so much distraction. Now is the time to step aside and open up to life, to stop fighting it, to accept the person you’ve become and be a friend to yourself. OK; I’m drifting into self-improvement cliches here, so I will close with the thought that I am working on contentment as a “previously important person,” using as my guide (and I’m no believer) the Serenity Prayer. And I simply try to find joy and wonder in every day. The older I get, the more successful I am.
Thanks for the post. You have a terrific blog.
Rick, I so enjoyed your comment. So much wisdom there. I particularly like this: “Now is the time to step aside and open up to life, to stop fighting it, to accept the person you’ve become and be a friend to yourself.” Magnificent! Here’s more, a poem by Derek Walcott, that seems to speak to what you and I are feeling: http://www.panhala.net/Archive/Love_after_Love.html
Hi Lynne, please don’t take this as a critique, but there is more than one thing we can control with respect to aging.
…those of us who can grow large enough to embrace the dark side of aging can organically have what the Eastern traditions call an “awakening.” We don’t need books to help us understand the transitory nature of life. We’re living it.
Essentially focusing on the moment and ignoring the myths associated with aging is awakening.
We have choice and we must use that choice to view the positive in each moment. Our past choices have brought us to our present state of mind. The choices we make in the moment determine the quality of our remaining moments. Hopefully in the Sun.
I always find your blog informative and enjoyable.
What a beautiful reminder, Jim. Thanks for the expanded thinking from one of my most appreciated mentors.
Lynne – love your enlightened perspective on aging. For whatever reason I give myself no credit for, I have always thought life really began after 40, not before it. Every time I read one of your posts that thought is validated again. I admit, like all young people, I had moments of stupidity. But there were was at least one of brilliancy- the day I realized life really does begin after 40. LOL.
Shawn, midlife and later is a great time to be alive! Good for you for figuring that out way early.
Watching mom age was a mixed bag. She aged well and lived long, but the last decade wasn’t easy for either of us. I don’t think I’m aging as well as she did at this point, but I can choose to emulate her perseverance and engagement with life, even to the end of her 101 years. Thanks for a thought provoking post.
Martha, I know you worked very hard to make her last years good ones. She was lucky to have you, and as you say, she gave you much in turn. Glad to hear from you.
Wonderful post , Lynne. Attitude is everything. Whenever I find myself longing for those younger years, I remember all the trials and challenges it took to get where I am now and I am instantly filled with gratitude for the life I am living. So hooray for my next birthday. It means I made it this far and I get to go out in the sunshine!
Yes, Kathy. I think especially one of the reasons we feel so content in older age is the satisfaction of having made it through the hard times!
The one thing about anything you can control is your attitude towards it. Finding one’s true self is so much more important it seems when you reach a certain age. I hope I don’t run out of time to find mine.
Sounds like you’re already there, SDS. Now you can use all the rest of your time to enjoy your true self.
Good post. It’s something I struggle with — not seeing aging as a tragedy. I must admit though that I did love the quote from Susan Jacoby. “Why would you become wise in old age when you’ve been average-to-stupid all your life.” I thought that was pretty great actually.
She’s a powerfully respected woman, Lynn. I heard about her book when she was interviewed by Bill Moyer on TV.
I’m with you Lynne – out in the sunshine!
Scamper away!