Tag Archives: Aging

In Autumn, the Truth is Revealed

In autumn, the truth comes out.

And by autumn, I mean any autumn. Autumn the meteorological season before winter; Autumn on the calendar; Autumn in our life span; and Autumn in the liturgical year.

In every case, if you step back far enough, you can see the patterns. The photo op brilliant foliage reveals what was there all along, shaped by experience.  In spite of the sometimes-brutal clarity of autumn, I love this time of year.

Deciduous trees that turn yellow, gold and orange in autumn are not so much changing color as revealing the color that has been resting underneath, hiding under the green of chlorophyll. As the days grow shorter and cooler, chlorophyll production decreases. The leaves have always been golden. The trees have experiences, and these matter, too. Perhaps there has been plenty of rain and the soil is rich, or perhaps a hurricane has blown off so many small branches that the tree suffers malnutrition from a lack of chlorophyll. Then, too, if it is the sort of tree that turns red, its intensity will be impacted by sugars manufactured and stored; more sweetness makes for a more brilliant red.

In October or November, looking back at the resolutions, motto, word or intentions for the new year, the truth is revealed. In March one might kick that can down the road; even in June there is still “plenty of time.” But in autumn, reality comes to visit. We either did, or did not, step up and out into the life we intended to try to make. The combination of who we are (like it or not) and the experiences thrown at us by life bring the outcome we assess in the autumnal review of our intentions for the year. I’ve had the same motto for years now because apparently I’m a slow learner.

In the mirror, in the season of life poets call autumn, we see the person we have been all along, plus our experiences. The smoothness and sameness of youth is gone for those in midlife and later; laughter and tears, pain and care, habits – good and bad – all are revealed. A twenty-five-year-old might hide bad habits, but by forty-five, the entire body shows the pattern and at sixty-five, odds are the mind and spirit are far from what they promised to become before a bad habit became an addiction. On the other hand, there can be an explosion of energy, creativity and spiritual growth at in the autumn of life that startles those who mistook the responsible behaviors of younger years for that person being “boring.” This is when adult children wonder if their parents have gone a bit crazy – taking up new hobbies, traveling, refusing to be properly “old.” No, they were never actually boring, just busy with lifegiving, the drive that Erikson called “generativity,” that leads people to make sacrifices for others, and trees to manufacture food out of sunlight to nourish themselves and the seeds for future trees.

And then the liturgical year winds around, ending about four weeks before Christmas, with the Scripture readings for the last few weeks focused more and more on the last things – our own death, the final judgment, the need to take account of how we are living and make changes in accord with the highest good.  How appropriate that this unveiling of the reality beneath happens in such a pervasive way – that we are offered the chance see ourselves, our year, our years in total, through the same golden lens.

Happy mid-autumn; wishing you all the golden light the season offers.

On Being “Beyond”

I’ve been thinking a lot lately on being beyond. Beyond what, you might ask, and I’m sorting that out. Basically, though, it started with realizing that I am now in that great blob of the population described so often as “beyond.” As in the headlines on the covers of women’s magazines,

“Get glowing skin! Customized tips for your thirties, forties, fifties and beyond!”

“Walking for Fitness at Any Age! Belly-busting strategies for your thirties, forties, fifties, and beyond!”

I don’t know the extent to which men are burdened with this. I can imagine, though:

“Get ripped! Washboard abs workouts for your thirties, forties, fifties and beyond!”

Yeah, I’m beyond.

It sounds sort of like a super hero, as if at 60 – when we enter into Beyond – we ought to get a cape. I have a cape – Irish wool, very warm. If you think that sounds more cozy than conquering, you haven’t met enough Irish women. (Note to would-be inventors of Beyond Woman action figures: spare us the wasp waist. We have the usual age-related spinal compression plus hormonally driven fat redistribution. Keep it real, that’s all we’re asking.  Because we are fine, better than fine, and in fact, beyond – just the way we are.)

It’s quite comical that the apparently youngish people who write so much media content put the newly 60s, the 60-year-olds’ mothers, their aunts, and centenarians all into one category, while the decades earlier are carefully delineated as if the difference between, say, 39 and 41 comprises dramatically more difference than between a 60-year-old and any given 80-year-old woman, and between that woman and a centenarian. It seems to reflect a silly and self-absorbed presumption about the nuances of midlife compared to the daily warfare of old age.

The implication is that, well, now you’re old and one old person is the same as the other. That is clearly ridiculous; there is far more difference between any two senior citizens than between any two 20-year-olds.  How could there not be? Life has been unfolding, every day full of experiences that compound the differences.  Every decision about habits, relationships, effort, sloth, etc., multiplies and intersects into complex and unintended consequences.  If you are 30 and reading this, consider how different you are from the people who were your best friends in high school, just 12 years ago. Wait another 30 years of daily choices and the ramifications of those choices, plus the unexpected and random events of life, and the differences between you will be inestimable.  

So, what does it mean, being beyond?  Well, the ones I speak with are beyond thinking they are in some sort of competition with the whole world.  They are beyond equally valuing everyone’s opinions; they stop craving indiscriminate approval. They are beyond getting aggravated about the minor speed bumps of daily life and getting tangled up in knots over every bit of bad news.  They are beyond thinking that social media alerts outweigh the person we’re talking with now. They have long been beyond pretending that cynicism is the same as wisdom.

All this means freedom: freedom to play freely with children without worrying about our dignity, sing in our cars, and ask questions without worrying we’ll look stupid. We adapt to what our bodies can and can’t do today. We can be creative because it doesn’t matter if other people don’t like what we paint or draw or bake or build. And, out of that freedom, we can offer encouragement and hope to people who are still trapped in the completely voluntary constrictions of being not-yet-beyond.

And so, here’s to being beyond, with all its freedom, challenges and gifts. 

What about you? What does being beyond mean – and will you wait until a magazine editor says you’re there to enjoy it?