As I looked into the mirror, the unmistakable signs of aging were evident. Turning 60 was a reminder. The clock is ticking, and the direction is toward old age. As I thought of the many extreme makeover shows now so popular on television, it dawned on me that as much as my skin is sagging, my spirit is soaring. On the outside I am showing signs of wear and tear, but it is an indicator of a life lived. And I thought of our throw away culture. Women over 40 have few roles available in the movies. Most are banished from television when they are no longer cute to look at. In the Bay Area, we have one station that allows the older newscasters to have a show in the morning on weekends – when most people aren’t watching.
What is so interesting about this dichotomy of youth/age is that in our early years we are filled with curiosity about the world around us and about ourselves. We are discovering things all the time as we grow and develop. We go through the awkward stage of adolescence and then pass into the phase of nest and career building. Our efforts are directed outward and to procreating our species. It is only after the headlong rush into life that we take time as older age approaches to ask the relevant questions about life that are deepening and soul enhancing. We have to come to the point of having enough experience to strip away our own veneer – to be willing to see ourselves from a lifelong perspective.
Our American preoccupation with facelifts and body makeovers and flaunting a tinsel image of sexuality is actually laughable. It is adolescence on a rampage. We are besieged by shows filled with violence and disrespect….an homage to testosterone.
This past week I have been baby sitting my daughter’s kitten. She and her husband went to
Minerva Books was located in an old house next to a residential section, and the visiting kitty was an elder who was close to the end of its life. This very old orange cat would come to visit and sit on our porch where she could bask in the full glory of sun without the noise of cars or the rush of wind bothering her slumber. We used to look at her as she sat, seemingly so grateful for the rays of sunshine beaming down on her frail body. And there was a certain repose in her countenance – a dignity of age. This memory juxtaposed with the rampaging curiosity of the kitten brought home again the specialness of each age: None better or worse – each having its own gift. The young cat wanted to play. The old cat was grateful for a pat or a comment. The little one had no time to be still, and the old cat had all the time in the world. She was moving into the twilight of her life, filled with memories that sustained her, while the little kitten was busy making them.
And this brings me back to us. We are precious and wonderful and filled with possibility at every stage of life. To make one stage desirable and the rest dismissed is to deny the fullness of life. When we only look at surface images to determine what is acceptable and what is not, we miss the opportunity to enlarge our sphere of influence and depth because we see anything not conforming to the “image” as meaningless. Yet, in creation, there is nothing that is meaningless.
In the interweaving of life, every element is dependent and supportive of every other element. We are mistaken when we think we can interfere with one aspect of life and there will be no consequences to the rest of life – because we are intricately linked to one another. So too, with age. No age should be dismissed.
From Seasons of the Soul print edition 2003
