Old isn’t a condition; it’s a phase. At least that’s what I tell myself each time I dare to look in the mirror, or some body part decides to go on vacation without so much as a warning. I’ve written in this blog about the art of growing old. It is an art, to be sure, and some folks paint a much better picture than others. The old couple I wrote about in Aging Takes Time is an actual couple CeCe and I would see on occasion. They reminded us of the future we longed to share that is now relegated to a misty notion of the imagination. But the love is still there in all its glory.
Being old is not a sentence; it’s a book. Truth be told, it’s a book I used to imagine when I was very young. Mostly because of my granddad. He would expound on his memories from when he was young in the 1800s. His stories were pure gold; woven through carefully crafted words from the visions in his mind that made his eyes light up like an old dusty hurricane lamp brought to life after a long period of darkness.
As we age, there is much we hold in our hearts. We may all live a life, but we each capture it in different ways; from different angles. It’s as if we’re cameras all pointing to the same vanishing point on the horizon from different perspectives. We see the same things, but differently; we mold our future from the way we envision the world.
So why am I bringing up age again? Well, because I am getting older. And since the days for new love or family are behind me now, all I see on the horizon is that vanishing point in the distance. So I do my best to be bold; to keep moving forward with a spring in my step and assurances in my heart that each sunrise will be more beautiful than the one before. I’m sold on the idea – the vision – that life is what we make of it. To date, I’ve woven a bright tapestry filled with eclectic experiences, devoted friendships, deep and transformative love, and memories from faraway places that have forever cemented in my heart and mind the strength and beauty of a united world.
I must concede that the advent and proliferation of technologies has been somewhat of a cold comfort. It concerns me when we, as sentient beings, choose to give up some of our intrinsic talents and capabilities to a machine or generative AI for the sake of speed, convenience or some form of financial or logistical advantage. Speed and convenience are justifiable and worthwhile traits when AI is aimed at serving those needs that cater to the well-being and safety of humanity. But we should not fold our cards just yet and relinquish our ability for creativity, exploration or interpersonal communications. There is much to be appreciated from creations brought about from a sense of passion, longing, pain or joy. They herald the power of human ingenuity and the resiliency of the human spirit. All that we have created – machine or otherwise – has found its way to today through the efforts, growth and determination of those who were once young and who are now old. It’s a wonderful attribute filled with endless possibilities. If you ever find yourself around someone old, take the time to chat with them for a spell. If you take a moment to be receptive, you’ll soon discover that within that old carapace with frosted hair and eager eyes lies the key to immortality.
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