Statement on Aging presented to the 2009 Shambhala Congress

On Aging in Shambhala.

The following statement is intended to provide the emerging Shambhala society with an initial set of principles upon which to contemplate and build an enlightened response to the inevitable process of aging. The statement has been developed by the Shambhala Working Group on Aging, a working group of the Sakyong’s Council and a core working group within the Community Care Council.

Statement on Aging in Shambhala:
(1) The inherent nature of mind, basic goodness, being unconditional, does not change with age. No matter how old or infirmed we may become, basic goodness remains fully intact.
(2) Rather than viewing aging as leading to the fixation of long standing habitual patterns, with mind training (meditation practice), as we grow older there is the opportunity for mind to become more open and less fixed.
(3) Physical and mental capacities inevitably decline with increasing age.
(4) In Shambhala we can simultaneously recognize both the opportunity to be more openly engaged with the world as we grow older, and the inevitable decline in physical and mental capacities, culminating in death.
(5) In this context, ‘conventional’ retirement is a misguided myth. The idea that as we age we can ‘retire’ from the world and become less engaged is not consistent with Shambhala vision. Quite to the contrary, as our responsibilities and time commitment for family and livelihood decrease we can devote more time and energy to building enlightened society, as well as to our personal practices. This is ‘enlightened’ retirement.
(6) As we age many of us will, at some point, experience physical ailments that will make it difficult, or perhaps impossible, for us to care for ourselves. At those times, other members of Shambhala society need to be positioned to come forward to be sure that what we are unable to do for ourselves is done.

Recommendations:
(1) Each Shambhala centre form its own working group on aging. This might be accomplished by placing aging as one topic within the context of a ‘health and well being’ or ‘community care council’. These local working groups will be supported by the international working group.
(2) A Shambhala conference on aging be held in July 2010, at which, among other things, the local working groups can exchange experiences and innovations.

The Shambhala Working Group on Aging was formed in 2008. The members of the working group are: Ann Cason, Aaron Snyder, Marita McLaughlin, Donna Hanczaryk, Jacquie Bell, Victoria Howard, Louis Fitch, Chris Rempel, Susan Stewart, Acharya Emily Bower, David Whitehorn (Chair).

Narrative by Ann Cason

I am very pleased to let you know that a new narrative by Ann Cason is now available on the 'aging page' of Shambhala.org. The narrative describes the last days of one of our most respected practitioners, Ruth Astor, and the care circle that formed around her.
The link to the narrative is:

http://www.shambhala.org/community/aging/index.php

Ann Cason, who was an important part of that circle is herself one our lineage treasures in the area of aging, having dedicated her life to working with the frail elderly in the vision of enlightened society. Ann's book, Circles of Care, is a classic and everyone interested in aging in the context of Shambhala should read it.
The Amazon link to Ann's book is:

http://www.amazon.com/Circles-Care-Quality-Elders-Comfort/dp/1570624712/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1252607655&sr=8-1

Preparing the Ground

Contemplating the interesting articles in the New York Times about the nuns in upstate New York who are mindfully, with discernment, caring for one another as they die, I started to think about how they had prepared the ground for being able to work with death in that way.

What came to mind was that these women had chosen, long ago, to live and work together as a community and to make that community, and its work, the central focus in their life. In that way, over many years, they created a container, and relationships within it, that were in place when they needed to relate with serious illness and impending death.

For most people getting old stretches out over many years, several decades, while terminal illness is often relatively shorter. As, over the past year, the Shambhala Working Group on Aging has been exploring the issues of aging in the context of enlightened society, it has been evident that we need to pay attention to the early stages of being old, when people are still able to care for themselves, and establish formal and informal networks and containers that will be in place when the need for more intensive care arises.

In Shambhala we are, except for a small number of monastics, a community of lay practitioners. We do not live in a convent. Our lives are quite complex, we live relatively independently and have all kinds of relationships and responsibilities. In that kind of situation, when severe illness or impending death arise, we rely on ad hoc circles of care, put together on the spot. Sometimes these circles are wonderful, other times not so much. Sometimes it’s not possible to form a meaningful circle at all.

The point for me is that how we organize ourselves as we get old, before we need care, will set the ground for what can happen when we do.

Convent provides model for working with dying

Mary Lang found this very interesting article from the NYTimes .

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/09/health/09sisters.html?_r=1&emc=eta1

Mary's comment is that; "It seems like a model of what Shambhalian Aging could look like, particularly end of life. The quote about bringing "discernment" to the process seems particularly apt".

The article is the second in a series; see the link below for the overview.

http://newoldage.blogs.nytimes.com/

Guaranteed to cheer you up

Jacquie Bell sent this wonderful video link.

An old couple walked into the lobby of the Mayo Clinic and spotted a piano. They've been married for 62 years and he'll be 90 this year.

http://www.fark.com/cgi/vidplayer.pl?IDLink=4365716

We have been discovered

Many thanks to our friends at the Shambhala Sun who, on their own, discovered this blog and put an announcement about it on their new "Maha Sangha News" website. The link is:

http://www.shambhalasun.com/news/?p=3376#more-3376

It may be a good time to remind readers of this blog that it is part of a larger effort by the Shambhala Working Group on Aging to cultivate discussion and action around the question of what it means to grow old in an enlightened society.

For more information on the working group see:

http://www.shambhala.org/community/aging/index.php

Reunion

Last week I had dinner with two friends I had last seen fifty years ago. We were teenagers at a summer camp back then, now they are a married couple in their mid 60’s. They had found me through mutual friends. We spent three hours over dinner at the Inn where they were staying in Halifax, on a vacation tour of the Canadian Maritime provinces. Of course they were older, but they looked, talked and acted much the same. They said the same about me.

The story of their life came out in bits and pieces; getting married, having children, various moves and changes of occupation, grandchildren, retirement to a quiet island in Maine, keeping in touch with life long friends. My story was different in detail, but not that much different overall.

By the end of the meal the stories seemed to have been told and for a few minutes we chatted about the state of the world, the weather, the local tourist sites; just an ordinary conversation, as if we were friends who had seen each other the previous day; not half a century ago.

Since that evening I’ve been contemplating the meaning of this experience, this reunion. What does it mean that fifty years of life, theirs and mine, can be encapsulated in a few hours, over a meal?

Last night PBS ran a documentary about Garrison Keillor, who is 67 (as am I). At the end of the film he commented that, when we are young we hope for an extraordinary life, but as we get older we realize that everyone’s life is fundamentally the same; “we all get an ordinary life”.

--dave whitehorn

Doctor Shigeaki Hinohara

I received the following email today and wanted to share it. It was sent by two elders in the Shambhala community.

At the age of 97 years and 4 months, Shigeaki Hinohara is one of the world's longest-serving physicians and educators. Hinohara's magic touch is legendary: Since 1941 he has been healing patients at St. Luke's International Hospital in Tokyo and teaching at St. Luke's College of Nursing. After World War II, he envisioned a world-class hospital and college springing from the ruins of Tokyo; thanks to his pioneering spirit and business savvy, the doctor turned these institutions into the nation's top medical facility and nursing school. Today he serves as chairman of the board of trustees at both organizations. Always willing to try new things, he has published around 150 books since his 75th birthday, including one "Living Long, Living Good" that has sold more than 1.2 million copies. As the founder of the New Elderly Movement, Hinohara encourages others to live a long and happy life, a quest in which no role model is better than the doctor himself.

"Energy comes from feeling good, not from eating well or sleeping a lot. We all remember how as children, when we were having fun, we often forgot to eat or sleep. I believe that we can keep that attitude as adults, too. It's best not to tire the body with too many rules such as lunchtime and bedtime.All people who live long regardless of nationality, race or gender share one thing in common: None are overweight... For breakfast I drink coffee, a glass of milk and some orange juice with a tablespoon of olive oil in it. Olive oil is great for the arteries and keeps my skin healthy. Lunch is milk and a few cookies, or nothing when I am too busy to eat. I never get hungry because I focus on my work.. Dinner is veggies, a bit of fish and rice, and, twice a week, 100 grams of lean meat..Always plan ahead. My schedule book is already full until 2014, with lectures and my usual hospital work. In 2016 I'll have some fun, though: I plan to attend the Tokyo Olympics!

There is no need to ever retire, but if one must, it should be a lot later than 65. The current retirement age was set at 65 half a century ago, when the average life-expectancy in Japan was 68 years and only 125 Japanese were over 100 years old. Today, Japanese women live to be around 86 and men 80, and we have 36,000 centenarians in our country. In 20 years we will have about 50,000 people over the age of 100...Share what you know. I give 150 lectures a year, some for 100 elementary-school children, others for 4,500 business people. I usually speak for 60 to 90 minutes, standing, to stay strong.When a doctor recommends you take a test or have some surgery, ask whether the doctor would suggest that his or her spouse or children go through such a procedure. Contrary to popular belief, doctors can't cure everyone. So why cause unnecessary pain with surgery I think music and animal therapy can help more than most doctors imagine.To stay healthy, always take the stairs and carry your own stuff. I take two stairs at a time, to get my muscles moving.My inspiration is Robert Browning's poem "Abt Vogler." My father used to read it to me. It encourages us to make big art, not small scribbles. It says to try to draw a circle so huge that there is no way we can finish it while we are alive. All we see is an arch; the rest is beyond our vision but it is there in the distance.

Pain is mysterious, and having fun is the best way to forget it. If a child has a toothache, and you start playing a game together, he or she immediately forgets the pain. Hospitals must cater to the basic need of patients: We all want to have fun. At St. Luke's we have music and animal therapies, and art classes.Don't be crazy about amassing material things. Remember: You don't know when your number is up, and you can't take it with you to the next place.Hospitals must be designed and prepared for major disasters, and they must accept every patient who appears at their doors. We designed St.... Luke's so we can operate anywhere: in the basement, in the corridors, in the chapel. Most people thought I was crazy to prepare for a catastrophe, but on March 20, 1995, I was unfortunately proven right when members of the Aum Shinrikyu religious cult launched a terrorist attack in the Tokyo subway. We accepted 740 victims and in two hours figured out that it was sarin gas that had hit them. Sadly we lost one person, but we saved 739 lives.

Science alone can't cure or help people. Science lumps us all together, but illness is individual. Each person is unique, and diseases are connected to their hearts. To know the illness and help people, we need liberal and visual arts, not just medical ones...Life is filled with incidents. On March 31, 1970, when I was 59 years old, I boarded the Yodogo, a flight from Tokyo toFukuoka. It was a beautiful sunny morning, and as Mount Fuji came into sight, the plane was hijacked by the Japanese Communist League-Red Army Faction. I spent the next four days handcuffed to my seat in 40-degree heat. As a doctor, I looked at it all as an experiment and was amazed at how the body slowed down in a crisis.Find a role model and aim to achieve even more than they could ever do. My father went to the United States in 1900 to study at DukeUniversity in North Carolina. He was a pioneer and one of my heroes. Later I found a few more life guides, and when I am stuck, I ask myself how they would deal with the problem.It's wonderful to live long. Until one is 60 years old, it is easy to work for one's family and to achieve one's goals. But in our later years, we should strive to contribute to society. Since the age of 65, I have worked as a volunteer. I still put in 18 hours seven days a week and love every minute of it."

BEING OLD IN THE TWENTY FIRST CENTURY by Ann Cason

One day, as I was interviewing a young woman who wanted a job working with older adults, she told me, “When the consumer needs toileting, I---“
Oh, oh, I wondered. Is she going to tell me about bed pans or the correct terminology for bodily processes? But that wasn’t it. Caregivers are often taught to label elders by their function or by their disease.(i.e. there’s a broken hip in bed two) We are also taught not to use slang for bodily processes. We can’t say, “The old woman needs to pee.” The elder is no longer perceived as an old person vegetating in a rocking chair. Older people are no longer referred to as old, frail, or dying. They are older adults at the end of life who may have life limiting illness and who are consumers of services.
Some think that the elderly consume too many health services. Some think that too many elderly people slip through the cracks and are not served enough. Either way whether you think of an elder as a consumer, a vegetater, or a rocker; the view seems to be dead end attitude. It is the trash heap, where people land, who are thought of by their function in society. Am I a consumer, a boomer, or a bed in a facility? Am I staying home or aging in place? Do I contribute services or use them up? But there is another question to ask. What is it to be a human being—to live and die with appreciation, with tenderness, with inquisitiveness, and the courage it takes to communicate without all those labels?
Continuing with the interview, I tell the young woman being interviewed this: The other day I called on a very old woman to see if she needed some help. “Bring me a car.” She told me. “I want to go to Talbot’s to buy my last sweater.
“How would you respond to this elder?” I ask the young woman.
She replied. “Well, I wonder if someone so old needs a new sweater.”
“But what if she wants one?” I ask. “Like a last wish before dying? Or what if she is being a drama queen or trying to solicit pity?”
“Should she want a new sweater when she is nearly 90 years old?” The young woman persists. “Would she get her money’s worth?”
“Can’t we start where she is?” I suggest. “Wouldn’t it be healing to take an expedition to a store: the fresh air, talking with sales clerks, the touch of wool and fake fur? What about the color that wakes you up and lets you enjoy being alive?”
“Well, maybe we could call the doctor for some Ativan. (anti-anxiety drug) A shopping neurosis is not so good.” The prospective caregiver suggested..
I relax into the interview. Maybe this young woman and I don’t quite connect. Young and old have different words. Yet, how good it is to talk it over. “There is more than one way to skin a cat,” as my own mother often told me. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if communication could be the courage we live with, so we wouldn’t have to label our dear fellow compadres as consumers, even if we still want sweaters or need help with toileting when we are old?

Audacious Aging

It is no surprise that many people, not involved in Shambhala, are noticing that they (and a lot of their friends) are getting older. Nor is it a surprise that many of these people are bringing their life experience and expertise to bear on the question of how they plan to spend their ‘elder’ years.

The newly published book, “Audacious Aging”, edit by Stephanie Marohn (Elite Books, 2008/2009) is made up of short essays, a few pages in length, by nearly forty interesting and thoughtful people, ranging in age from 40’s to 90’s.

Their careers and life paths are quite diverse, ranging from spiritual leaders (Deepak Chopra, Ram Dass ) to politicians (Robert Byrd, George McGovern), to performers (Lena Horne, Dick Van Dyke), to culture changers like Helen Gurley Brown and Gloria Steinem. The topics range from medicine, to culture, to just plain common sense, and more.

What is common in nearly all the essays is the message that audacious aging is a continuation of audacious living, of being willing to engage in the world and go beyond the routine, to deepen and contribute.

In short, getting old is a great opportunity to bring life to fruition on a personal, interpersonal and societal level. One writer joked that ‘we thought the revolution was in the 60’s, but it may turn out to be in our 60’s’.

In the forward by Joe Laur and Isabelle St-Jean, the intent of the book is stated as follows:

“We invite you to ride with us on the wings of courage, from the heightened perspective afforded by years of journeying. May we all rise to the challenge of transforming our society from a youth / appearance-worshiping culture into one that fosters the values of the heart, supports the evolution of consciousness, and leaves to future generations a legacy of which we can be wildly proud”.

This statement could be seen as pointing to the core aspiration of Shambhalians as well, to transform the world from the materialism (physical, psychological and spiritual) of the setting sun outlook to the vision of enlightened society.

In any case this book provides an introduction to a wealth of useful tools, information and inspiration.

Feeling my age

I am 67 years old and today I’m feeling my age. A cold, or flu virus, has been chewing on my cells for the past four days. Nothing serious, just a bit of sinus congestion and a feeling of being spaced out. But it is certainly enough to throw “me” off its busy game plan.

At the same time the news channels are filled with dire predictions of a swine flu pandemic. It seems that tiny strands of nucleic acids could take over my body at any moment. The overall sense I have is of being physically and mentally vulnerable

There is no doubt that I’m getting older. I can feel it in many parts of my life.

Three years ago I retired from my job as a Clinical Nurse Specialists in Psychiatry. The pension cheques began showing up, a monthly reminder that my full time working days were behind me (unless the pension plan goes broke). The contract work I’ve been doing since then, consulting on psychiatry research and education initiatives, has kept my mind involved in the developments in psychiatry, and brought in some much needed extra money. Still, as I talk with younger people who have taken on the positions of responsibility I used to hold, my passage into another phase of life is vividly evident.

I seem to be exercising more consistently than I did when I was working full time. Nonetheless my endurance and strength are certainly diminished from what they were ten years ago. One marker I have for that decline is Magyal Pomra Encampment (MPE). I have attended each of the MPEs over the past ten years. Last year I particularly noticed that I needed to rest more and couldn’t fully participate in drill practice. Fortunately, during MPE2008 a group of us who were senior officers, and somewhat older, were grouped together, partially in recognition of our physical status (although some of my MPE peers have not slowed down nearly as much as I have).

Similarly, health and comfort issues have begun to shape the way my wife and I attend major programs at Dorje Denma Ling (DDL), the land center closest to our home in Halifax. At DDL there are only a limited number of rooms in the lodge that was built several years ago. The rest of the accommodations are in small cabins or in tents. These are quite adequate, but can be difficult in poor weather. Like many friends our age, we try to make reservations at nearby B&B’s, but these too are limited in number.

Death is also becoming more familiar and real. The big lesson for me was the death of my parents. They were both very competent and healthy people. When my dad died at age 81, only two months after being diagnosed with liver cancer, it just seemed unbelievable to me. Fortunately I was able to see, and actually touch, his body a few hours after his death. (I was on an airplane coming to see him when he died). That certainly helped make it real for me. But I still am contemplating the fact that these two people, who seemed so much better at dealing with life than I have ever been, were not immune to death.

As the reality of aging becomes clearer, the sense of needing to develop a deeper understanding and realization of basic goodness also seems more evident; but how to do that? Is it time to become a monastic or live at a land center? Should I be doing different practices because I am older? These are the questions, I’m still looking for answers.

-dave whitehorn

Beyond Hope and Fear

The following quote from Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche may be helpful as a contemplation.

“Tibetans are cheerful about getting older, because they are proud to have lived another year. People in the west seem to take a different attitude. We sometimes have a hard time accepting change, especially when it involves aging, sickness and death. We feel depressed about getting older, because we are getting further from being young. I certainly don’t mind getting older. I’ve enjoyed the process of growing and learning. I owe my appreciation in part to my teachers, who taught me to contemplate the truths of human existence. They would often laugh as they talked about all the different ways we could die. They said, “Ultimately, death comes without warning”. They were not being callous or vindictive. They knew the power that comes from contemplating reality. It frees our mind from hope and fear. Now I know that I can either fight impermanence tooth and nail or accept it and grow from there.”

---Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche. In Ruling Your World, Morgan Road Books, 2005; pp 121-122.

The construct of ‘old age’

Recently a group of us were working on a proposal about aging that focused on the transition into ‘old age’. We consulted with a long time Shambhala Buddhist practitioner who is 94 years of age about what age might mark the entry into ‘old age’. Her reply was, “well…90….maybe”.

Contemplating these comments I was reminded of the Buddhists teachings about how we create dualistic constructs (a fundamental one being the sense of ‘me’) and then forget that we made them up. We go around believing that our constructs have an essence of their own; that they actually exist.

When we use the words ‘old age’ we are using a dualistic construct. It may or may not be useful or helpful but from a non-dualistic point of view there really is no such thing as ‘old age’.

On a conventional dualistic level, it would also seem that the meaning we attach to a construct like ‘old age’ is not the same for everyone and, as well, can change over time.

My own case could be example. I am 67 years old. My grandfather died when he was 67. At that time I was a college student and my grandfather, who was dying of colon cancer, certainly seemed old to me. I would have placed him the category of ‘old age’.

On the other hand, my father was quite active and healthy when he was 67 and remained so until a brief terminal illness at age 81. I know from several conversations when he was in his late 60’s that he did not consider himself old.

I don’t consider myself old either, although I love taking the Senior's discount. But I do recognize that I’m older than I was and that my body and brain/mind (especially my memory) are showing signs of being old.

The point of this contemplation, if there is one, could be that there is no single definition or meaning associated with the construct ‘old age’. It might, in fact, be helpful if we dropped that construct altogether. Perhaps instead of talking about 'old age' it would be more useful to simply talk about the experience of ‘being older’.

Tai Chi in the Park

Ann Cason received this e-mail in response to a request for stories about enlightened aging:

Hi Ann,

This isn't a story, but is a very wonderful thing now happening in St. Johnsbury and Lyndonville. Susan Shaw and Vicki Giella were inspired to ask Richard Reoch if he would authorize me to lead a program for Seniors - I mostly call them "Elders" our of respect for their wisdom of years.

We started in St. J with around 20 people and it has grown. This coming summer will be our third summer in the park. We use St. J House in the winter. Sal DeMaio and Joanne Post have joined as leaders and together they support the Lyndonville group. We get some funding from through the Area Agency on Aging and Blue Cross. Of late i have been asked to start another group in Greensboro. It is a wonderful program. Enjoy our little film made by Richard Reoch.

http://www.dogooder.tv/Orgs/nevaaa/default.aspx?MovieID=1700

Much love, Patricia

Contemplation at 57

I’m 57 years old now, just a few years shy of my mother’s age when she died at 62. My father, 17 years older than my mother, died when he was 86. As a child, I spent a lot of time around multiple generations of ‘old’ people; a great-aunt, a grandfather, cousins, and my oldest brother, who is 12 years older than I. Since I started 'growing up' all over again in the Shambhala community 33 years ago, people have appeared different to me than when I was a child. I enjoy the friendship of those who are at least 10 years older and some that are 30 years younger than me, with others in between. How did this happen? I see some  of my contemporaries, friends and relatives associating mostly with people of their own age. Are they practicing ageism? I don’t know.

I do know that when my mind is drawn toward settling on an idea of how I’m supposed to look, dress, move, feel, behave, or think at this stage of life, I become trapped by hope or fear. Hope that I’ll have enough money to live with some degree of material comfort and fear that I’ll end up in a terrible nursing home. Hope that I’ll remember how to meditate and fear of being alone. Hope that I’m appropriate to continue teaching and fear that I’m out-dated.

I’m not in the greatest of physical shape, yet I still love to dance. I’m not on Facebook, yet I email every day. Sometimes I behave sillier than I ever saw my parents and sometimes I have a conservative attitude similar to theirs. I stopped coloring my hair a few years ago, yet enjoy 'decorating space' (per the Vidyadhara) with a touch of makeup. I used to think by this age I would know more. Instead, I find myself frequently saying, “I don’t get it”.

Little of how aging is occurring for me fits the model or example of my familial predecessors. My primary reference point for going forward is being sandwiched between my teachers and the teachings. I’m grateful for sometimes visualizing myself as a “16 year old in the full bloom of youth” and at other times “with shiny black moustache and eyebrows, wearing golden armor”. I’m grateful for the Elixir of Life sadhana that reminds me of what’s truly important.

I don’t know when the right time will be to call me “old”, a “senior citizen” or an “elder”. According to department stores, hotels and AARP, I’m already there. I do know that this precious human lifetime is so full of opportunities for wakefulness and temporary amnesia that I continually need to come back to the unconditional life force that sustains me; that life force in which we “possess wisdom without words and freedom from doubt”.  We can call that basic goodness.

In the meantime, you can call me anything you like.

--Marita McLaughlin
25March2009

Families, aging and Shambhala

When my mother died at age 86, her only grandchild–my daughter, then 14–asked if she could have my mother’s well-worn, simple gold wedding band. Since then, my daughter–now 21–has worn that ring nearly every day. With my mother’s death, my daughter no longer had living grandparents. Wearing the ring is her way of maintaining her sense of connection to her grandparents, her history, her family.

As Susan Williams has pointed out in her introduction to the Spring Equinox theme for the Shambhala Times, families are made up of multiple generations: children, parents and grandparents, not to mention aunts, uncles, cousins and, in Shambhala, all those wonderful people we call “sangha” who may not be blood relations (in this lifetime), but somehow are so closely connected to us in the grand scheme of things that they seem like family. For some of us, the members of the Mukpo Clan may in practice be our closest relatives.

Old age is as much a part of family life as is childhood or adolescence. Years ago it was common for grandparents to be living with their children and grandchildren. Today, the oldest members of a family are frequently separate from the rest physically, and often emotionally.

Many sangha families are currently involved in the long-distance process of trying to help elderly parents who live far away. See Meg Federico’s book, Welcome to the Departure Lounge, for one sangha member’s very difficult experience.

The demographics of Shambhala society, like that of North America in general, have a large bulge in the 45-60 age bracket. Currently, 50% of Shambhalians are in that age range, with 20% being over age 60.

Clearly, in the next 10-20 years, there will be a lot of old people in Shambhala society. They will be our relatives: parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and members of the Mukpo clan. They will be us.

How will we, in Shambhala society, work with the multi-generational issue? To what extent will we maintain the connection between the young and the old? How will we relate to the needs of the older generation (whether or not they have children) as they become more in need of support?

These are questions for all of us to contemplate. They are also the focus for the Shambhala Working Group on Aging, a working group of the Sakyong’s Council. (Click here to visit the group webpage.)

One important step in beginning to work with the “koan” of aging in Shambhala may be to keep the larger view of families in mind.

Note: This article originally appeared on the Shambhala Times website. The link to the article is: http://shambhalatimes.org/2009/03/15/aging-families-and-shambhala/

-posted by David Whitehorn (Mountain Drum)

What this blog is about

What does it mean to grow old in an enlightened society? This is the fundamental contemplation that this blog will attempt to address.

Shambhala is the name of an ancient enlightened society that was said to have existed somewhere in the Himalayas. The Tibetan Buddhist teacher and master warrior, Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, brought the concept of Shambhala, of an enlightened society, to western civilization over thirty years ago. (Link to Shambhala: Sacred Path of the Warrior).

Trungpa Rinpoche emphasized that enlightened society was not a utopian fantasy or a long lost myth, but a way of working with the world on a moment- to-moment basis.

His son and heir, Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche, in his recent book, Ruling Your World, (link to book) describes how Shambhala (enlightened society), can appear in our day-to-day lives:

“Just as in the context of Buddhism we are all already Buddha –“awake’- the world is already Shambhala. It is only because we are roaming in the kingdom of doubt and anger, jealousy and pride, that we cannot see it right now. When we see through our perpetual agitation and relax into basic goodness, the enlightened world of Shambhala begins to appear. Enlightenment is things as they are before we color them with our projections” – Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche, Ruling Your World, pp190-191

In offering this blog we recognize that some readers will be students of Shambhala who have adopted the vision of enlightened society as the basis for their life and have pursued meditation and contemplative practices to enhance the likelihood that they will, in any moment, ‘relax into basic goodness’. Other readers may be engaged in other disciplines that are intended to uncover the inherent wakefulness of the human mind. Some readers may be less interested in individual ‘enlightenment’ and more interested in how social systems can be organized so as to bring out the best in human behaviour and experience.

We welcome all readers to contemplate the simple question: what does it mean to grow old in an enlightened society?