I’ve been teaching stress reduction and practicing mindfulness for about forty years. It isn’t easy to comprehend as it is growing old. I hesitate to even use the word “old,” but that is what my age, 80, is considered to be. My mother died at 70, and I thought that was old. From my current perspective, that is young. Dad died when he was 80. He lived a whole life and didn’t want to go, yet he had pasted this quote on his bedroom wall: “You can’t reach the other side without leaving the shore.” He knew he’d be leaving this shore and felt the next one might reunite him with my mother. He saw life—and death as an adventure. Everything changes, and that includes our view of things. Our attitude does make a difference. Acceptance is core. Experiencing life as it is, free of bias and reactivity, requires maturity. After all these years, I still find it hard to face what it is like to be old. I find it hard to believe that I am old.
I struggle with physical changes in the body and the mind. I visited the dentist today. My teeth are old, and I need an implant and more crowns. My eyes have changed. My cataract has ripened, so it will be removed. Hopefully, I’ll see better, but who knows? I know there is much I do not know. I do know I am not alone. I remind myself of the freedom that arises from letting go. Accept, I tell myself. Accept growing old. Accept change. Accept the workings of mind and body. Accept that I can’t always be in control, and the mind/body holds surprises. Accept that I struggle and the effect of struggling with what can not be changed changes how I relate to change itself.
Breathe.
Accept not liking struggle. Accept that the mind and body are not working the way they should. Accept what is and let it be. I hold on to things, and letting go is challenging. Accept that I am part of life, and it is constantly changing.
Another breath.
How fortunate I am to have a breath. I am grateful. It is a gift to be alive and have a mind that can remember how fortunate I am.
Some things are easy to accept, and I am calm. There is equanimity. I used to complain about the weather, but I’ve learned that the weather is constantly changing in New England. There are seasons. The winter brings cold and, with it, freezing rain and snow. There is also sunshine, and the air is fresh and crisp. I have a warm house and am fortunate enough to have the proper attire to be outside and withstand the cold. The trees are bare, but leaves will return, snow will melt, and spring will come, followed by summer and fall. How fortunate I am to be able to grow old, have teeth and crowns, and see with new eyes.
I am writing after teaching a mindfulness class that focuses on perception. In it, I showed a video of a selective attention test. The footage showed people dressed in white and black playing basketball. You are asked to count how many baskets are being made by the people dressed in white. Time is given for counting, the screen turns black, and the correct number is given. There is a pause, and the announcer asks, “But did you see the gorilla?” Most people shake their heads no. The video is then rewound; this time, expectations have altered, attention shifts, and is more inclusive. All see a person dressed in a gorilla suit enter the court between the players, pound its chest, and leave. In the first showing, many limit their focus to answering correctly and count only those in white. This limits awareness.
I’ve seen the video before, so I now see the gorilla in the first showing, but I wonder what I do not know as I go through the day and my husband and I contemplate what makes sense as we age. What is wise? Where is my focus placed? I don’t want to be blind to beauty, love, or the joy of another day. I want to meet what will unfold with curiosity and wonder, even as I struggle with saying goodbyes and letting go. Who knows how long we’ll live, how well we will be? I do know where I place my attention makes a difference. I care for myself, exercise, eat right, appreciate my loved ones, and engage in what nourishes me. I do my best to practice kindness. I do know illness and death are part of life. Who knows when, what, or how? Right now, I am here…and I remember to be grateful.
Hope to see you at our next meeting. This month, I am teaching a mindfulness course that meets on Thursday morning, so we will gather later than usual but return to our usual time in April.
Our next meeting is on March 7th at 1:00 PM EST
Please join me and explore this process of aging with wisdom. You can register by clicking here.
Warmly, Elana