Someone once said to me, life is a 24/7 job and no one gets out alive. When I first heard that, I laughed. I was safely south of 50 and the end was far off my radar. Now that I’m, well, uncomfortably north of it, I don’t see the need for a leisurely laugh. What I do see is a desperate need to check when I’m supposed to see my doctor next.
But back to that statement. Focusing on the unavoidable reality of death implies (for me, at least) that life is on a linear path. That the best we can do is lay low and get to the end with as much stuff as we can and as little scratches as possible. But that’s not a life; that’s an existence. Rocks exist; plants exist; my irrepressibly 22-year-old cat exists. But life as we know it should be more than just about collecting stuff or avoiding pain. A dung beetle does that just fine, yet I think we’d like a bit more out of life during our limited time on this ball of mud we call home. Aging is inevitable despite the plethora of chemical injections, peels, blood transfusions, cucumber or melon masks, or anything else we’ve conjured up to keep our skin taunt and our ego satiated. It’s going to happen, and you cannot escape it.
But aging is also beautiful. It is a process of biology mixed with philosophical uncertainties that provide us with the ability to experience dreams, disappointments, successes, miracles, delightful or infuriating flukes, love, loss, discoveries, achievements, friendships, enemies and revelations. Aging provides the means by which we create memories, thus chronicling our life and the effects we’ve had on the world or it’s had on us. Aging is the vehicle that carries us forward; it’s the physical manifestation of spiritual growth. Each wrinkle, each change to our physical form carries with it the visual representation of experience. They signal to the world the battles we’ve won, the sadness we’ve borne, and the wisdom that keeps a small smile on our face during the worst of times. Our existence may be a linear process, but the act – the art of living and thus of aging is as random as it is purposeful. And all it asks of us is to keep moving forward.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t think there is a more beautiful representation of love, kindness, admiration and success than the sight of an old couple holding hands, walking silently side by side. Their gait is slow and steady; their movements minimized by joints and sinews worn down by time. Yet they still walk together, enjoying each other’s company and the feel of the sun on their faces. If there is anything to envy about another human being, it’s that final gift of aging. That despite all they’ve gone through and experienced in their lives for years, that old couple still enjoys the treasure of their love and company. Earned by test; endured by time. It brings to mind another pithy saying that is the most accurate of all: Aging isn’t for cowards.
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