Time waits for no man
or woman or anyone/anything else
The theme of aging, what it means and what it does, how we confront/accept it, is in my face and my heart at the moment. It’s front and center in the controversy about whether or not Biden is too old to be president.
Shouldn’t it be up to each one of us to say what we can and cannot do, rather than have someone make those choices for us? Yet, what if we are not able to see clearly what is in our own best interest, and in the interest of others? What if it is too hard to let go because it means facing death? One of our greatest weaknesses, and greatest strengths, is self-delusion.
I am dealing with the effects of old age on a cherished relative. And I myself am no spring chicken. Every day I question what I am and am not capable of doing. And I fear the suddenness with which this can change.
From Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata:
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
The coolest old people are the ones who don’t let their infirmities stop them, who can limp along doing what they love until they can’t. This is not the same as denying infirmities and deluding oneself that it is not necessary to gracefully surrender the things of youth.
I sometimes think that I would like to take matters into my own hands before having to suffer the indignities and possibly the suffering of extreme old age. And I also wonder if all of it is part of the package, part of the experience. I don’t have any answer, and I don’t think there is one.
My mother was a beautiful example of someone who accepted the infirmities of old age with grace. She spent the last couple years of her life lying in bed, often only half awake. She needed help with everything.
She no longer made art, her greatest joy in life. If offered colored pens or pencils and paper her artmaking spirit would rise. But she could barely hold an implement in her gnarled hands.
She interacted daily with her beloved husband, and that always brought her joy. I never could figure out if her peaceful equanimity was because of antidepressants, or a canny recognition that when one is so dependent on others a friendly demeanor is self-preservation, or whether it was just some kind of cosmic blessing.
Nature, immune as to a sacrifice of straw dogs,
Faces the decay of its fruits.
A sound man, immune as to a sacrifice of straw dogs,
Faces the passing of human generations.
The universe, like a bellows,
Is always emptying, always full:
The more it yields, the more it holds.
Men came to their wit's end arguing about it
And had better meet it at the marrow.
The Way of Life, by Lao Tzu, translated by Witter Bynner
Wow. Wonderfull!