Pat Taub
My grandmothers and mother lived into their 80’s, transitioning into old age with only minimal complaints. They didn’t take mega doses of vitamins, or exercise madly to stave off the Grim Reaper. Nor were they bombarded with advice on how to slow the aging process.
Women of the generation that wasn’t consumed with controlling their aging, providing more energy for fun.
Both of my grandmothers dressed up almost every day. My paternal grandmother was rarely without her pearls, or like Queen Elizabeth, her pocket book. Grandma ate what she wanted, which included ice cream and pretzels before bed each night. Agatha Christie mysteries kept her company.
My maternal grandmother smoked into her 60’s, never gave up her daily three cups of coffee or her weekend martinis. Nana loved fashion. She was the queen of coordinated wardrobes, not holding back on costume jewelry sets or on ensembles with a matching purse, shoes and hat. She had a zest for life, enjoying a string of boyfriends after being widowed at 58.
Nana, at age 82, when corsages were in fashion
My mother had her moments when she lamented her aging body, but they were fleeting. When she was in her mid-seventies, I took Mother shopping for a fancy dress to wear to a gala. The one I selected was glamorous and sleeveless. She tried it on and said, “It shows my sagging arms, but who cares, it’s beautiful.”
My mother, Jane Conrad First, celebrating her 80th birthday
I think my grandmothers and mother would be flabbergasted at how aggressively my generation does battle with aging.
Is our preoccupation with living as long as possible a function of the Baby Boomer’s self-involvement? Is it a function of living in a high tech society, which reduces the body to a well-oiled machine?
Self-care is important, but when it becomes the main response to aging, it can generate anxiety. I know people who go crazy when they don’t get in 10,000 steps every day, or when they indulge in a chocolate croissant. Alternatively, a practice that focuses on soulful aging reduces anxiety and offers the promise of serenity.
A spiritual path is central to soulful aging. I belong to a progressive intercity church whose caring community has supported me in sorting out my spiritual values. I don’t think a spiritual path has to include attending a church, synagogue or mosque, but it should prioritize humanitarian values along with a willingness to share our elder wisdom in the interest of making the world a better place.
A spiritual community can take the form of a home gathering or an organized religious body.
Tending to the soul can result in a greater acceptance of self with a diminished concern for outward appearances.
Adelaide, a 94 year-old woman I know, described how she came to love her lined face by seeing beauty in her changing contours: “I now find the imperfect, like clumps of weeds, more acceptable. My body may be ugly in some ways, but I have never loved it more.”
All the wise women and men I know place a high value on their contemplative periods. Reflective time, meditation, and inspirational readings are part of a soulful approach to aging, which can calm our spirits and make it easier to accept death.
Alexandria, 82, stresses the importance of being gentle with herself, while being committed to her ongoing growth. Frequently her meditation focuses on the questions, “What can I pass on?” and “How can I be of service?”
In the wonderful anthology, Aging: An Apprenticeship, the writer, Mark Greene describes his joy in aging:
I can’t say for sure where life will go. What is emerging may work out or not. But I can tell you this. Life seems like a huge adventure now. What was once a struggle to create sense of the world, now feels like a single, long clear note of something peaceful and full of love.
