The Grace of Aging

 

Life Is Good

“The longer I live, the more beautiful life becomes.”

Frank Lloyd Wright

          When I went to the Writer’s Retreat last week, my intention was to write about aging gracefully—if such a thing is possible. I wanted to write something honest, but not fear-inducing about aging. First, let me say, that it’s a surprising passage in that you watch your body change while your insides, and your perception of yourself, stay the same. In other words, your body does not match your sense of self. It’s a little like puberty when everything changes, and you have no control over anything your body decides to do. You’ve been a little child, with a little child’s body, and suddenly, you’ve got all these parts that weren’t there before. The first response for most of us was to try and hide those renegade body parts. We do the same thing in old age too.

          When I talk to friends who are my age about their experiences, they are pretty much in agreement. Here are some of the responses: “I feel invisible.” “I feel suddenly insignificant, as though nothing I say is reliable or interesting.” “I feel like my body has betrayed me.” “I know my juicy, sexy days are over.” “I know I am in the final third of my life, and I want it to count for something.” We experience the loss of youth the same way we experience the loss of a loved one. We grieve. Someone said to me recently, “I used to be this beautiful, vital woman! And now, look at me.”

On the other hand, as we adjust to the disharmony of looking into the mirror and seeing a stranger there, we also start to enjoy the freedom of time and place. We realize that all is not lost. Only in this life stage are we free to go wherever we want without permission. We can engage in things we’ve always wanted to do but never had time. Our relationships deepen as pretentions and juvenile competitions drop away. Our relationship to the world, and the spiritual dimensions of life, become heightened and move from the back burner to front of mind. Because there are fewer engagements, and fewer demands on our time, we can go deeper with everything that remains. And we can pick and choose what we involve ourselves in and what we do not—and who we engage with and who we do not. When time becomes precious, we choose how to spend it carefully.

Woody Allen said, “You can live to be a hundred if you give up all the things that make you want to live to be a hundred.” And some of that is true enough—there are sacrifices. But, for the most part, waking up every day, and walking out into the world is both a simple joy and a bountiful gift—more precious with each passing day. Savor it. Immerse yourself in it. Rejoice! And give thanks.

                                        In the Spirit,

                                        Jane