By Peter Gibb
“I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious.”
– Albert Einstein
What Appeared to be Happening:
Boxes and packing tape cluttered every room; furniture piled high in the garage; dumpsters popped up in the driveway; real estate agents nodded and departed. Wendy and I were moving to a retirement community.
I knew I was leaving a physical house behind. More importantly, but less obvious, was that I was leaving a self behind, my self. Career, family, home, friends – my known world – disappeared like the mental mirage it had been. My decades-long achievement-oriented self surrendered to a new … a new what?
What was really happening:
I woke up to THE question, “Who am I now?”
No notice was pinned on the door, but I was entering a new phase of life, commonly referred to as “getting old.” But I didn’t want to get old. So I resisted.
At the retirement center, I made friends and got involved in activities. I filled up my time. Wendy had been diagnosed with Advanced Alzheimers, so I was also a full-time caregiver. I crawled into bed at night, exhausted and numb. Was this what I had worked so hard for? I pondered. I’ve raised a family, been reasonably successful professionally, contributed to a good marriage, built enough wealth to retire moderately. Something was missing. Who am I now? A blinding flash of the obvious cracked me open like a nouveau Humpty Dumpty: life was no longer about proving anything. It was time to focus on what feeds my soul. Less about convincing others, more about listening, to them and to myself. Less about doing, more about being. Time to take stock.
A New Path Emerges:
Happy day! It dawned on me: this is my chance to age gracefully. My only chance. I want to live fully, keep growing, express myself, and connect with others. How best to do this? At the retirement center, I was surrounded by fellow agers, some aging gracefully, some less so. Those in Group B shuffled around as if aging were a downward spiral, one way traffic, headed to the dreaded “D” word. Group B saw themselves as victims. They despaired of hope and spent their time and energy moaning about their unfair loss of physical and mental functioning. Group A, by contrast, many of them with equally serious cognitive or physical challenges, viewed the aging process as an opportunity to live, grow, connect, and serve. They acknowledged the impending
loss of function, but they held hope high, saw aging as a path still full of surprises, changing relationships and insights, an opportunity for continued joy and growth.
I sign up for Group A. I certainly don’t have all the answers, but I am here for life. I mean “life!” – until the end: a full life of joy and love, of exploration and discovery. I intend to make my years of aging, however many or few they may be, into a pathway of growth, to expand my awareness, to learn from those around me, and to play like a child surrounded by new toys, so that when the time comes to say goodbye, I will be well used up and ready to go. I will live with an attitude of gratitude.
What I Notice:
When I open my heart wide, I am at my best. If I live each day for love, I will be ready when the time comes to say goodbye. I have ups and downs, but my life is grounded in purpose and a sense of connection. I don’t view aging as something to fight. Aging is part of the miraculous gift of life. Every day is an opportunity for growth, love, and exploration. I live with an attitude of gratitude.
Not to deny that there are big challenges too. I worry about finances. Wendy has moved into Memory Care, very expensive. My joints ache. I have a hard time remembering names. I get up often to pee in the night, then can’t get back to sleep. I sometimes hear voices that aren’t there, too often miss voices that are. My energy is not what it once was. I have to learn how to let go.
My new orientation is less about fear and doubt and more about flow; less about getting somewhere and more about being here, now; less about satisfying the ego, more about strengthening the connection to my soul. I am a wheel, and this awareness is the hub. The wheel must turn, cover rocky ground, not get stuck in the mud.
So, how specifically should I take my wheel on the road?
Curiosity, Compassion and Letting Go
I pay attention to my friends in Group A. The ones I admire most have learned to let go, to practice curiosity and compassion.
Curious people thrive on listening well and asking simple, naive questions. Curiosity creates an aura of wisdom, but Group A may not be any wiser than others. They are simply curious. Group B’ers are so busy giving unwanted advice and telling their own stories, they don’t have time to listen. Listening with curiosity means listening with the ears of the heart, listening for thoughts and feelings, both spoken and unspoken. I’m unsure whether listening gives rise to compassion or results from it. Perhaps both.
Curious people don’t waste time trying to convince others of their superiority. Rather than giving unwanted advice, they open the way to exploration and discovery. They are a window, not a wall. Curious people say things like, “I wonder …” and “What if …”. Or “How did you feel about that?” And “What else have you considered?”
Curiosity is my doorway to wonder. But challenges persist. Loss, fear, and frustration knock at my door. I try to welcome them. I practice mindful breathing. Breathe in, accept; breathe out, let it go. Breathe in; breathe out. Accept, Let go. Accept, Let go. Mindful breathing requires intention and practice. Graceful aging has a lot to do with letting go.
Curiosity and Love go together like the ocean and the beach. Both spring naturally from an open heart. Curiosity washes across me like waves, creating a soft, sandy beach. That beach, the product of my open heart, guides me to love both myself and others. When I open my heart to be more curious about someone, almost invariably I end up caring more for them. I reveal more of myself. I recognize my own foibles in another. I learn about me, about you, about us. I grow and discover what feeds my soul. Curiosity and love, joined at the hip – perhaps that’s wisdom!?
Aging Gracefully
And so I emerge as a new self, an aging being, a loving being, one who is growing and expressing myself more fully, and more open-heartedly. Waves wash away my resistance. Fears, when they appear, are less ferocious; faith is solid. There are challenges, but I am strong. I am curious and I am compassionate, opening my heart, learning to let go. I am human. I am whole.
I am aging, gracefully, lovingly, on purpose. That’s my plan. What’s yours?
Peter Gibb is the author of two books, King of Doubt and Mindful Conversation. He is currently working on a new offering, Love: Never too Late. Reach him at pgibb@ashlandhome.net
