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
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
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.
“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.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
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’.
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’.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
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
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
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