By Eliezer Sobel | Website
There is much talk on Serene Ambition and elsewhere about altering one’s perspective and internal conversation about aging so as to “create a future to live into” that infuses the present with passion and energy, as distinct from the dreary resignation of merely playing out the repetitive and predictable habits and tendencies generated by the past.
And yet, while this sounds good in theory, what of the physical limitations imposed by age? I read Marilyn Hay’s posts on this site, entitled “Aches and Pains,” and I have to confess, despite her noble and gracious attempt to look for the possibilities in her life and to see her cup as half-full, I nevertheless found her disabling arthritic plight to be both depressing and scary (especially given the absence of cartilage in both my big toes due to osteoarthritis; and lately, at 56, my knees have started calling out to me as well.) So while I certainly like the idea of creating a future filled with possibility through merely changing our perspective and our internal conversation about aging, there still appears to be some grim facts of reality that are not always so easy to talk ourselves out of.
Lately I’ve been spending a great deal of time with my parents. My mother has advanced Alzheimer’s disease, although fortunately, unlike some dementia patients who tend toward angry outbursts and even violence, my mother has become a delighted and delightful child, living in the present moment so completely that if I leave the room and return a moment later, it is a wonderful surprise for her that I am there, and our days together tend to be filled with non-stop happy reunions! So for her, there is no longer a looking to the past or the future: like an infant, perhaps, or my idea of what an enlightened being might experience, my mother’s every moment seems mostly to be wondrous and alive.
My father, on the other hand, has only the progressive deterioration of his spouse of nearly 63 years to look forward to. He is living into a future that promises he will eventually be totally unrecognizable to the person he loves and to whom he has devoted his entire life. Not to mention his own aging process which, at 84, can only speed up and be aggravated by the stress of being my mother’s principal, at-home caretaker, stubbornly willing to accept only the barest help and support from others.
So is a life of possibility available to my father? Could he change his conversation about his life, and the way he views and interprets these difficult life changes? The answer is yes, theoretically. In actual fact, like many of us, particularly our elder population, my Dad has spent a lifetime arriving at what is now, for all intents and purposes, a point of view and conversation that is essentially written in stone, one which now views life as something to survive and simply endure for the duration. Anticipating visits from my brother and me are as close to a future of possibility that can still somewhat enliven his present grim reality.
As a lay hospital chaplain at one time, I learned that it was most often not possible, fruitful, or appropriate to sugar-coat a patient’s reality, or try to “fix” it with new or even enlightened ways of thinking and seeing. What was most useful and potentially healing, in most cases, was simply being present with someone where they were, offering no solutions or “coaching” whatsoever, but rather, merely bearing witness to and sharing in their predicament, allowing space for the very real pain of no possibility or hope. Paradoxically, in the absence of hope, they and their families were left only with the present moment, as it was, for better and worse, and the result was often a more full living in the now, with greater depth, clarity, feeling… and yes, pain, but perhaps not as much suffering.
In the last decade or two, the practice of “mindfulness” meditation has branched out from Buddhist retreat settings and found its way into hospitals, prisons, universities and many other settings. It is a way of bringing conscious presence and attention to this very moment, gently letting go of one’s fascination with the mind’s perpetual ruminations about the past and future. It can bring the realization that while there may indeed be painful realities in the present, suffering about it is introduced primarily in the mind, through how we interpret and view the facts and feelings of the moment.
Perhaps, therefore, for those of us who are face-to-face with the realities of aging, there can be a double-barreled approach: those of us with the capacity to reframe our future have been given a wonderful gift. And when the facts of life seem to be more powerful than our revisioning abilities, it might be time to sit with compassion in the warm embrace of the present moment, no matter what the circumstances, and discover the possibilities concealed in the here and now, independent of past and future. For in fact, aging itself can only occur over the course of time, and in the actual, living present, no such progression is occurring, and it is that realization that can paradoxically allow us to live gracefully, not fighting the inexorable march of time, but tasting the vast mystery of Eternity.
© 2008 Eliezer Sobel. All rights reserved.
Eliezer Sobel is the author of The 99th Monkey: A Spiritual Journalist’s Misadventures with Gurus, Messiahs, Sex, Psychedelics and Other Consciousness-Raising Adventures, and winner of the Peter Taylor Prize for the Novel for Minyan: Ten Jewish Men in a World That is Heartbroken. He is also the author of Wild Heart Dancing, and was the Editor of The New Sun magazine and Publisher/Editor of the Wild Heart Journal. He has taught intensive creativity and meditation workshops and retreats at Esalen Institute in Big Sur, California and similar growth centers around the U.S.