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?
Monday, May 25, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
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
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 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
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
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
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
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