Friday Morning: On Aging

The spiritual practices that served me thirty years ago rarely serve me now.

Life has changed. My situation, if you will, has changed. Choral singing hits different, as the kids say. Guided meditations simply won’t do. Sitting with scripture and bathing in prayer are a hardship. I don’t know what any of this means. It may signify nothing more than the calcifying of my brain.

What serves now is friendship and kindness. What serves now is witnessing love. What serves now is justice writ public.

Again, situatedness is essential here. I am aware that my situation has changed. My place in this world has shifted. I am no longer a “young adult.” Nor am I really “middle aged.” An octogenarian I knew said that old age has grades like high school. Your fifties are your freshman year. Sixties, sophomore. Seventies, junior. Eighties, senior. If you live into your nineties, you have graduated to a different way of being all together. Yes, there are levels. No, it’s not all good news. Longevity is only sometimes better than the alternative. But you are not the same person you were. Even your body is different. Your brain? Not the same. What then of your soul? Why would your spirit not also change?

Holding onto youth is a lie. There’s no such thing. Age happens. You can live well with the changes or live poorly. Don’t let the marketplace dictate your worth. Don’t let the establishment normalize your experience. We all do this dance differently. Wisdom attend.

Yes, take care of yourself. Mind your body, mind, and spirit. Love with all of who you are. Anything else is a form of self-abuse. Stop striving and just be.

I could be wrong.

My octogenarian friend could be wrong.

I’m simply aware this morning of all the voices who cry, “Doom!” right now. I am aware of all the voices who are crying, “Repent!” right now. I am aware of all the voices who cry, “It’s your cortisol level!” right now.

I do know that I need to move my body more. I know that, as a diabetic for example, there are a variety of ways I need to take better care of myself. I have new limitations.

Back in the day, when I was still drinking, I used to go out to a local bar late at night. Many of the major streets in Richmond are one way, alternating directions from east to west. I lived in the east end of the city at the time and would park my car on an east bound one way street as to avoid having to make too many turns on the way home. “Safety first,” I would shout. Then I would drink my gin or Zimas (Yuck!) until my face went numb.

Why would I ever wish to be young again? That’s what youth was for me. No, it wasn’t all insanity and risky behavior. There was a lot of beauty in youth. And yet…

…I am aging. Thank God. I haven’t had a drink in a quarter century. Grace.

I’m merely a freshman, of course. I’m just getting started. But there is new maintenance. There are new limitations. There is also new capacity. That’s the astonishing bit. No one talks about what one gains when one lives long enough. Our culture is obsessed with lengthening youth, denying aging and the gifts that come with it. Instead, we should be highlighting the gifts that come with age.

As I explore new practices and even renewing a few old favorites, I try to pay attention to my age and what it has to teach me. There are losses to grieve, of course. But there are also gifts to embrace.

God, give me the strength to embrace the gifts that come with growing older.

Y’all be excellent to each other.