Seeing Again, for the first Time
To see what is in front of one’s nose needs constant struggle.
—George Orwell, author, 1984
Last weekend, while watching my oldest granddaughter, Ashtyn, march in for her high school graduation I had a sobering moment (happening more often these days). It was a realization that had things not worked out as they did when I had cancer two decades earlier, I might have missed this occasion and been long passed.
Those of us who’ve experienced the big ‘C’ have these opportunities to reflect, should we choose to do so. I think of other men I’ve known, Kenny Taylor (and his son Chris) and my friend, Jeff Whitesides, each of who passed before experiencing the graduation of their own children, let alone grandkids. A decade before Jeff, who at age thirty-eight died in May 1998, I had already stood at the gravesides of numerous men younger than I who’s lives were cut short after suffering with AIDS. I have had the sense that I was not only living my life, but the lives of those men who did not have the chance to grow into their own.
Orwell might not have been completely right about 1984—although he was close with ‘big brother is watching you’. But his statement that it is a constant struggle to see what is in front of our noses is very true. We are so immersed in the culture and media that surrounds us that we barely make out the forest for the many ‘trees’. Another saying fits too, a fish doesn’t know he’s wet when he’s swimming in the ocean.
Dr. Bill Thomas has helped jog my memory with his book, Second Wind, Navigating to a Slower, Deeper, and More Connected Life (2014). The book reconnected me with my Rite of Passage in 2006 at Ghost Ranch. It was my first experience with Richard Rohr who was the elder/teacher.
We live in a world culture of youth, particularly those of us in America. The emphasis is overwhelming and a billions of dollars industry. Staying young, or at least looking it, is the emphasis everywhere. Cosmetics, Botox, lapo-suction, clothing styles, the emphasis on fitness—to name a few. Yes, there is a sensible side of trying to remain healthy and committing to a regime of exercise and diet that increases our odds. But as I and other find out, even our genetics will set us up for things like cancer earlier than others.
I was fifty-six and had just finished Rohr’s book, Wild Man to Wise Man, Reflections on Male Spirituality. At the end of the book it asked “Are you an initiated man?” I couldn’t get the question out of my mind or answer yes. It talked of Rites of Passage but I resisted giving it serious consideration thinking I’d be the old fart among only younger men (as it turned out, one of my roommates was eighty-five). But when the haunting question kept on, I tossed out a fleece, sent in the long application, and found myself in Abiquiu, New Mexico in May 2006 not knowing a single soul wondering what the heck had I gotten myself into. It remains to this day one of the two most life changing experiences for me. The second morning I found myself and Father Richard both up early having coffee together. He asked what I did and I said I was a social worker/therapist to which he smiled saying, “Oh, you guys get the most out of this experience!” It wasn’t until seeing him a few years later in Louisiana that I asked what he meant. He replied, “Because of all of what your life experiences have offered, your own and those of the hundreds of people you’ve seen”. He was right. I still get emotional when trying to describe some of the rituals of those five days at Ghost Ranch.
Mortality—owning it—was a part of those rites. I had experienced the big C only four years before. Even experiencing cancer, it’s just ever so often that I see what is right in front of me, that each day is a gift, that I might never have experienced or had the opportunity. Now as the wrinkles and gray hair comes on (as Lady Clairol said years ago, ‘only my hairdresser knows for sure’), I now am experiencing agism—the invisibility of older adults, or as Thomas says, the years beyond adulthood. Many will hear ‘beyond adulthood’ and doubt that there is such a thing other than death. Sadly for many, they will cling to the desire to remain youthful—living in denial of the inevitable. All of us are powerfully influenced by the same forces. It is recognizing the reality of it where Orwell’s statement rings so true.
I was thinking of when my retirement would be when COVID struck in March 2020. I chose to close my physical office that month taking the month of April to pack it all up. I found a good ‘home’ for most the furniture in a parish priest’s office in a suburb nearby. The packing and moving kept the ‘crazies’ away for a month. My guess was that COVID and the isolation would not end very soon. I did do some appointments online or the phone. When summer came, I found an isolated picnic table at a local park and met clients there. But I was unconscious of the forces at work. I’d also dropped my routine of three days a week at the Y. At the very outset of COVID-19, I and others were stunned that the first person with COVID in our county, and who passed away only a few days later, worked at my YMCA. With no gym, I am glancing down at my additional ‘COVID-19 pounds’ as I type, thankful that is was not the full nineteen pounds!
The subtitles of aging in this culture get intermingled with the reasonable desire to remain healthy. I’d often been told I didn’t look my age, a compliment well received but influence by the agism of the culture. I’d even thought of graying my temples in my late 20s when I became the director of the non-profit because I looked too young. Owning, even honoring our own journeys is a challenge.
As we age, we are the story tellers, all be it boring and ignored at times. Even the trouble recalling a name is not so much about pre-Alzheimers as it is as older folks, we have more ‘files’ or experiences to flip through in the process of researching for a name. It comes to us, but slower.
To realize like the fish, that we are ‘wet’ is not simple when it’s literally your total surroundings. Seeing what is right in front of me sounds easy, yet is the opposite.
I’ve experienced the invisibility of the old with younger people. To have them look past you. I know invisibility happens for numbers of others, whether that be sexism, racism or other prejudices directed at various ethic or cultural groups. I don’t feel like going on a campaign alone to change the world, but I will join in where I can. One grand benefit of decades of living is perspective. Kushner said years ago, don’t sweat the small stuff and—it’s all small stuff, pretty much true. Most of our many worries never happen—and surprise! It wasn’t the worrying that prevented it from coming to pass.
I get posts frequently on social media about living in the moment. That is worth encouraging should I be either in regret of the past or fear of the future. But there is something to be said about perspective that a lengthier life grants you, should you, I, choose to listen. I’ve heard and read Richard Rohr say: “Life IS the teacher”. The question is, am I awake? Beyond adulthood is eldership.
Thanks to Bill Thomas, my Rite of Passage and decades of living, I will try to live more consciously in the struggle to be ‘chronologically’ present being grateful for life—in this season of life. It could have been different as it could for anyone. Ironically, it is in facing mortality, the reality of death, that offers us great appreciation for living. Any one of us can suddenly be struck down by disease, an accident or these days, a stray bullet.
So today, I’m backing up to see the forest and feeling wetter all the time.