– by Trysh Ashby-Rolls –
“Growing old is an immemorial grief of mankind. To lose the striding joy of our racing feet, the fierce, sweet pride in the long swim, the lonely climb, no more to feel the longing and the fear of the young girl going to her early love, are the eternal sorrow of man … We mean to master this business of aging.”
So wrote Ewan Cameron, the “experimental psychiatrist who employed controversial techniques in attempts to fix or repair perceived mental defects in his patients,” according to Richard D. Flavin. Cameron had big ideas about psychiatry, life, death and the whole damn thing. When he died in 1967, he left behind an irreparably tarnished reputation – to say nothing of a great deal of pain and torment.
Is growing old really an “immemorial grief?” I put the question to my Facebook friends. Here’s how some of them responded:
Devon Jones writes, “… growing old is a gift, a privilege not granted to everyone.”
Cora Borealis thinks growing old “a blessing.” She hopes that by the time she gets there – in about twenty-five years’ time – she’ll “be more at ease with who I am, more at peace …”
Undine Charlie Downie reports what her dad used to say, “Growing old is lovely, being old is shite!”
Bryan Carson says the best thing about getting old is that “you don’t have to be nice to old people anymore.”
Tamara Alferoff asks the provocative question: “What’s old?”
Some months before he died at age 83, Maurice Sendak, author and illustrator of the children’s book Where the Wild Things Are – and many other titles – said he could see beautiful aging trees from his window, which now he had time to watch. “I can take time to read books, to listen to music.” At the same time, he cried a lot “for the friends that have gone before me.”
Some of the wild things older people think about are the things no one wants to talk about: Loneliness, introspection, declining health, death. We examine matters not previously even in the shadows of our minds.
Most of us don’t care a jot about the terror and thrill of falling in love. Either we’re oblivious to matters of the heart or we take vicarious pleasure in watching those in the throes of blossoming romance. Thank God we don’t have to endure again the painful aftermath of a relationship gone awry. As for running a mile or climbing a mountain we’re just glad we can get out of bed in the morning. If we can walk to the coffee shop we count ourselves really lucky.
We grow less physically while we grow more spiritually. “Old age, as the harvest of life, is a time when your times and their fragments gather,” writes John O’Donohue in Anam Cara. “…you unify yourself and achieve a new strength, poise and belonging that was never available to you when you were distractedly rushing through your days.”
I once met a woman of older years but uncertain age who said that, had she known how young an age seventy was she’d have lived more passionately. Maurice Sendak said, “Live your life. Live your life. Live your life.” Then clear your desk.
O’Donohue gets the last word: “When your time comes may you be given every blessing and shelter that you need.”
Ewan Cameron quoted in Ann Collins’ The Sleep Room
Richard D. Flavin at www.flavin’scorner.com
John O’Donohue, Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom
Maurice Sendak interview at http://www.nytimes.com/…/an-illustrated-talk-with-MauriceSendack
