‘You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.” The Buddha
Well, I have been having a hell of a time and I want to talk with you about it. It has to do with being a good deal older than most people around me and what that feels like. We can feel incredibly isolated up here and constantly misunderstood. When stuff goes wrong with us, the first thought is not that it will go away, rather we will go away.
When you forget a name or a date, it can be funny and quickly forgotten. For us, forgetting a name or misplacing an item is a sign that our mind is beginning the precipitous fall into oblivion, the beginning of becoming a lifeless blank. Everything ends up feeling like a test and the idea of failing grows in our minds. A misstep is more than that. It is a loss of balance, a weakening of the limbs, one stumble closer to being bed ridden.
Things that feel extremely important to us are often shrugged away, trivialized and too easily bumped aside by whatever happens to be next for others. We are then left, ignored and invisible to people, who have no idea what it is like for us.
At the same time, what are we supposed to expect from people younger than ourselves, who can’t possibly understand something they know nothing about? We remember the ages we have lived and the internal vocabulary that speaks to each. It is not possible to know what you haven’t lived to learn. While we can relate to others, we are often left eavesdropping on our self, in a language only we can understand.
No, this is not some lament on longevity, it’s just how it is. As for me, I often forget how rich my own history has been. Sometimes, I feel like saying, “You have no idea what I know and what I have experienced in my life.” Once again, I could share this and watch as it falls on deaf ears. In those moments, it’s time for a pause, re-remembering what this life is all about and who we are living it for.
Those of us up here, need to remember we have lived our lives, now wearing a coat of many colors only we can see. This mosaic of memories is who we have been. Who we are now is a colorless race of people, who have been here as long as forever. I take a silent satisfaction, looking into life’s mirror, seeing how that coat is a perfect fit.
Today, all of us have a tomorrow. The younger we are, the fuller it is, filled with possibility. The trick for people like me is to never let go of that sense of mystery and excitement. The passage of time should never dull that sensitivity. We bring so much more to each moment than those whose coats are just a little too big for them. Our own slowly begin to fit perfectly, handcrafted by the tailor of time.
The trick for folks like me is to birth a sense of grace, whether anyone else can understand it or not. Ultimately, none of us live for the recognition of another. Our tree of life grows from very special seeds, unique to each. In the forest for all, it is important to remember that each of us is unique, distinguishing each from the rest.
Like a tree, those rings, etched into our core, tell a story of our feelings, thoughts and memories, like the singularity of every snow flake that has ever fallen and kissed the ground.
These things have been on my mind recently, trying to sort out a deep sense of aloneness, like an explorer, navigating terrain he’s never seen before. I am not sure what kind of flag I want to plant on this time terrain. This story is for all my contemporaries. I see all of you. I understand.
We must come to terms with the metrics of the moment, or we risk getting lost, languishing in the woe is me of the victim. Those of us, who hold that flag in our hands, are heroes. Our victory is having made it this far. We all need to take pride In having lived those rings around the core of who we have become.
I write this for all of us, all too often stuck in the silence of aloneness. Time is a gift, bestowed on some, all of whom inhabit Planet Geriatric. Our passport is a blessing. This is where I choose to plant my flag.
I see you. I feel you. I know you. I claim this land for my people, the Tribe of Time.