Like questions about any other topic, the ones we ask about aging and the ways in which we choose to answer them reveal what we believe and care about.
Growing older is nightmarish, but it also provides glimpses of how heaven is right here within reach. I think these glimpses, which reside in the failing sight of the old, and the disabled, are precious, and should be a regular part of our collective journey into mystery.
Our relationship with aging can remain as a loving friendship throughout our lives when we understand that it’s a cumulative experience that provides us with an ever-changing variety of psychological and spiritual gifts –– if we are open to anticipating and accepting them.
As I’ve aged, and gotten a lot more experience under my belt, my attitude about reactivity has changed, but I still find this facet of being human difficult.
We are told by a prominent and highly-respected geriatrician that the three plagues of growing old are loneliness, helplessness and boredom. I respectfully disagree.
Over the next few weeks I will be exploring a few of aging’s most important superpowers. Yeah, you read that right– superpowers.
Sometimes amidst the chaos, there are moments of clarity, when we’re reminded why we do the work we do. I had one of those moments last October, during one of those speaking engagements when you’re not sure anyone really cares what you have to say.
Consumers in the longevity economy are just interested in walkers, medicine and incontinence products, right? Wrong! This couldn’t be further from the truth.
Leave it to Dr. Bill Thomas to write a new book, in this case Second Wind, and then use the book tour, not just to publicize its release by joining radio personalities and attending book signings, but instead to educate in a big way.
You may think or hope I’m joking, but nope we’re talking about tree rings today. So, before you click away I encourage you to read just a few paragraphs more. For those of you who may not know these rings are how we measure a trees age.
My partner, Tom, didn’t want me to do it. My best-friend, Rita, thought it was a bad idea. My friend Marie, 85, said she would never do it and encouraged me not to.
In college I was told never to write an “alarm clock opening.” This technique, I was told, is often used in unimaginative beginnings.