The Gifts of Elder-ing
(7 min read)

Andrew Solomon

I wonder how often in our interactions with others of a 'certain age' we consider their experience of ageing, and what do we make of our own ageing? Although we see nothing in the natural world living forever, the western mindset seems to hold a subtle denial of physical death that is perhaps more prevalent than in other cultures.

We outsource the meaning of life to religious systems. We outsource responsibility for physical death to hospitals, funeral homes, and the custodians of our wills. Many of us in our younger days tend to live in denial of this happening any day soon and might even admit to a faint, unconscious hope that somehow, we will prove to be an exception!

Physical death, and even poor health tend to be unspoken taboos in ordinary conversation, as if these were a contagion, best avoided unless one gets infected! Many experiencing the trauma of a life-threatening condition attest to the added stress of a diminishing intimacy and connection with friends or family that only adds to their anxiety. It seems many loved ones are often unwilling or unprepared to feel the depth of emotion that being close to someone going through such a journey elicits.

Yet, those cultures more attuned to making peace with death during life and not as a last-breath confession, realise the correlations as a seed takes root, sprouts, flowers and eventually fades away in a time cycle unique to its species. How could humans be an exception to this natural process when even the circadian rhythm of the physical body keeps time with the rhythm (Schuman resonance) of Earth herself?

Ancient wisdom tells of human life occurring in two chapters. The first is the exploration of our outer world, orientated towards 'becoming'. The second is the exploration of our inner world, orientated toward 'being'. The transition from first to second is marked by an alchemical process we know as the menopause, which occurs in all genders in different ways. We experience the second chapter through what we call 'ageing'. There is no 'right way' of ageing for everyone. As a neuro-diverse species, each one is unique. No two bodies and capabilities are the same. No two mindsets are the same. There is no one in the entire world configured in bio-physical, psycho-emotional and spiritual terms exactly the same way as you! This means there is a 'right way' through the second chapter that is unique to you! The catch is, each of us must discover it for ourselves.

For me, becoming an elder has been very different to my earlier years. Yet, beyond niggles and wrinkles it is proving to be a fascinating and growth-filled time in hitherto unimaginable ways. My biggest challenges thus far have not been not so much about physical changes, but my rusted-on old beliefs about what ageing should and should not look like. As I contemplated my beliefs, I was amazed to discover the extent to which my sense of ageing was tainted with societal perceptions, more so than how I was genuinely feeling inwardly about myself. As I passed 60, I began to have a faintly discomfiting sense of somehow becoming less visible to others. So began my first-hand experience of how the societal extolling of youth and body image at the expense of other human qualities is what fuels the age discrimination that any fortunate person to reach elder years are sure to be aware of.

I began to see how our perception about what we should (or should not) be doing in the second chapter tends to be locked into meaning given by others. We outsource the meaning of life to the cultural and religious traditions that are formative of our individual beliefs. We outsource responsibility for physical death to doctors, healthcare systems, priests, funeral homes, and the custodians of our wills. Societal ideas of a 'normal lifespan' are deeply enmeshed in finance, business, healthcare, insurance systems: "You must plan for financing your old age. At this age you are at risk of this, you must be tested for that. Over 60? Get a 'seniors' card. Retire at the designated 'old age' of 60-something, and as best you can, enjoy your remaining years."

Whilst individual exceptions are bursting out all over, generally accepted norms change far more slowly. This can be very confusing for anyone in mid-life wired into what others are doing. Reinforcers of societal norms are everywhere. Will this or that supplement/exercise/dietary plan make me feel better/live longer? Is there an elixir of immortality on the cusp of discovery? Should I be training to run my first marathon at 70 like that person in the morning news? Should I be trying to reprise the karma sutra at 80?

There is important inner work to do during the second chapter, particularly as it brings a closer proximity to our own mortality. As I approached 70, I caught myself thinking of death quite negatively. A fleeting memory of my father's philosophy provided an 'ah-ha' moment! He firmly believed that we live for three score years and ten; anything more is a bonus. A belief that proved sadly prophetic. It was a big wake-up call to discover that although his belief had germinated through a lifetime that included two world wars, this self-limiting belief was still lodged like a virus in my inner software several decades later, diminishing my zest for life. Somehow I had unconsciously absorbed it into my core belief system!

This led me to discover that changing feelings and beliefs about ageing is not as easy as I might have imagined. All of us start to form beliefs about ageing (at least subconsciously) well before we are capable of maturely examining their validity. To a child, a parent is an omniscient being. Even in later life, we can still have an unshakeable loyalty to what our parents taught us. Our elders modelled to us what ageing looked like. We might even have witnessed or been more directly involved in their life and death experiences. To stay out of negative programming requires constant vigilance. My wake-up call inspired me to search for other self-limiting beliefs and attitudes about life and death that might be sitting in my subconscious that I was unaware of. It made me more aware of what I might be modelling about ageing to others, such as my children and grandchildren.

The second chapter is designed for integrating the growth and expansion accrued during the first and becoming the full embodiment of it. To try to sustain the outward momentum of the first chapter beyond its natural transit point inevitably precipitates a midlife crisis. Beyond any reasoned justification this is simply because it reflects a futile resistance to the natural flow of life.

More important than getting outer worldly affairs in order, this requires us to get our inner affairs in order, which can only happen through compassionate self enquiry. The second chapter calls us to accept that we have been the only common denominator throughout our lives. It calls us to become accountable for our life choices; to stop blaming outer factors and others for the way our lives have turned out. It calls us to let go of self-sabotaging beliefs and behaviours that diminish our capacity to live our best life. It calls us to acknowledge and resolve past trauma. It calls for honest self-appraisal of our relationships, to own where we are holding resentment and judgment of others, and the extent to which we are judging ourselves. It calls us to stop comparing ourselves to others and to stop should-ing on ourselves. It calls us to resolve conflicts and heal relationship co-dependencies, in particular the need for approval from others, which arises from the perceived failure to receive the approval of early caregivers. By purposefully examining the choices we have made and are making in response to life, much growth can be had. In this way, the second chapter can be a time of sage-ing, of becoming a wise elder and mentor to others.

Tomorrow is promised to no one, not even the very young. It we can't make peace with death during life, how can we expect a peaceful death? Nothing can be taken to (or controlled from) the grave. It is time to release attachments to earthly achievements, ambitions and legacy, as no one ever truly completes a 'bucket list' by the end of life. Rarely can these be anything but an out-picturing of what is secretly believed to be lacking in oneself.

Every incarnation is what it is and ends how and when it ends. Increasing proximity to physical death calls us to abandon any beliefs about physical death as 'losing out' or 'loss'. Whilst we can receive much in the way of support along the way of ageing, physical death is ultimately a solitary journey. What if ageing is an opportunity to contemplate reframing physical death as the natural completion of one chapter of existence and the beginning of another? Science has long evidenced that the energy that underpins every aspect and level of our physical frame cannot be created, controlled or destroyed. From any particular state it simply shifts into another state. Indeed, the leading edge of quantum physics increasingly points to an incarnation as but one experience of existence in a universe that is an ever-expanding continuum.

If you are still breathing, there is a purpose for you being here: something to heal, something to learn, something to share. My wise elder yoga teacher taught me that its purpose is not about becoming able to perform life perfectly, rather, it is about achieving peaceful self-acceptance throughout our life experience, whether it is perceived positively or otherwise.

Every moment and every day brings the opportunity to learn the importance of gratitude for being alive and discovering ways to fall more deeply in love with 'you' in every possible way. That is the whole point. Only by appreciating our lives as they are right now can we tap into the ever-present potential of 'now' and recreate our experience of life anew at any age.

Andrew Solomon is an Honorary member of the Australian Society of Clinical Hypnotherapists (ASCH). He is based in Sydney, Austalia, and is an existential counsellor and mentor. Visit his website at https://andrewsolomonhealing.com/.