I spent a half-day yesterday in a retreat talking about aging. There was a distinct heightened level of anxiety around it, especially in my group of 50-55 year olds. A lot of tired old "don't look at me too closely!" jokes.
Aging is scary for good reasons. Will we become invisible as we age because, especially women, aren't supposed to age? We're supposed to cling to 10 years ago, no matter what age we actually are. At 40 we were supposed to look 30. At 50 we were supposed to look 40.
It's also scary because it is completely unknown. I know things will change, often for the worse, but I have no way to know when or how. It will come as a surprise and often an unpleasant one. It totally messes with my sense of control and organization.
This isn't new. I had to face the hard questions of aging for the last 20 years with my parents. It led me to write the following in my January 2006 newsletter. It still sounds right today, 9 years later, possibly even more right:
"2005 gave me many opportunities to reflect on what it means to live well and what it means to age well. We often assume that the trick to aging “well” is to remain healthy, to avoid suffering from aches, pains, and infirmities.
We are wrong. The price of living long IS aches, pains, and infirmities.
Aging “well”, it turns out, is becoming the kind of person who can accept graciously and accommodate intelligently the trials of aging. Aging “well” is about who we are as a person, not simply what we are as a body.
This means that the challenges of aging well are not physical. They are spiritual because acceptance and accommodation strike at the core of how we understand who we are. That is, perhaps, the most spiritual question we can ask ourselves.
How do we maintain our dignity while suffering physical indignities?
How do we maintain our humor in the face of pain?
How do we accept life graciously when life is being ungracious to us?
How do we incorporate the unexpected and the loss of control it represents without bitterness and rage?
How do we ask for, and accept help, when it flies in the face of our understanding of ourselves as independent capable people?
How do we find meaning and value in our lives when we are not “producing” in the way we and our society normally appreciates?
How do we care for and love a body we feel has betrayed us?
These are the true challenges of aging. The good and bad news is that we don’t start preparing for these challenges when they arrive. We need to be the kind of person who can face these things before they arrive.
We need to be preparing for that…in our 20s. And 30s. And 40s. And 50s. And 60s. That’s the good news – we can start right now and be more likely to be ready when the tough part of aging arrives.
Take a look at that list again. They are all things, in fact, that we face throughout our lives. How we respond to them now is how we will respond to them when we are “aged” as well.
Aging merely gives proof to the lives we’ve led. What will your older years tell the world about the life you have led? What can you do about that today?"
Aging is scary for good reasons. Will we become invisible as we age because, especially women, aren't supposed to age? We're supposed to cling to 10 years ago, no matter what age we actually are. At 40 we were supposed to look 30. At 50 we were supposed to look 40.
It's also scary because it is completely unknown. I know things will change, often for the worse, but I have no way to know when or how. It will come as a surprise and often an unpleasant one. It totally messes with my sense of control and organization.
This isn't new. I had to face the hard questions of aging for the last 20 years with my parents. It led me to write the following in my January 2006 newsletter. It still sounds right today, 9 years later, possibly even more right:
"2005 gave me many opportunities to reflect on what it means to live well and what it means to age well. We often assume that the trick to aging “well” is to remain healthy, to avoid suffering from aches, pains, and infirmities.
We are wrong. The price of living long IS aches, pains, and infirmities.
Aging “well”, it turns out, is becoming the kind of person who can accept graciously and accommodate intelligently the trials of aging. Aging “well” is about who we are as a person, not simply what we are as a body.
This means that the challenges of aging well are not physical. They are spiritual because acceptance and accommodation strike at the core of how we understand who we are. That is, perhaps, the most spiritual question we can ask ourselves.
How do we maintain our dignity while suffering physical indignities?
How do we maintain our humor in the face of pain?
How do we accept life graciously when life is being ungracious to us?
How do we incorporate the unexpected and the loss of control it represents without bitterness and rage?
How do we ask for, and accept help, when it flies in the face of our understanding of ourselves as independent capable people?
How do we find meaning and value in our lives when we are not “producing” in the way we and our society normally appreciates?
How do we care for and love a body we feel has betrayed us?
These are the true challenges of aging. The good and bad news is that we don’t start preparing for these challenges when they arrive. We need to be the kind of person who can face these things before they arrive.
We need to be preparing for that…in our 20s. And 30s. And 40s. And 50s. And 60s. That’s the good news – we can start right now and be more likely to be ready when the tough part of aging arrives.
Take a look at that list again. They are all things, in fact, that we face throughout our lives. How we respond to them now is how we will respond to them when we are “aged” as well.
Aging merely gives proof to the lives we’ve led. What will your older years tell the world about the life you have led? What can you do about that today?"
