Redefinition of aging

Here is another great  post by our guest writer, Sandy  Conant Strachan.

If I had to say what the greatest challenge of aging is, I’d say “redefinition.”  If I had to say what the greatest promise of aging is, I’d say “redefinition.”

If you’d like another word that means the same thing, I’d say “reinvention” or maybe “re-creation” or maybe even “re-newal.” But whatever you call it, aging creates a relentless demand to question everything that’s brought you this far.  A challenge and a promise to let go of narratives, self-images, treasured relationships and even, on occasion, defining values.

The incessant demand for re-definition sneaks up on you.  It whispers until you actually hear it, then it seems to shout in your ear.  It’s subtle enough to be ignored for a long time, but I suspect that shutting out the voice is the source of the saying, “The older I get, the more like myself I become.”  I have a friend who’s always been honest and forthright, but now she’s just arrogant and offensive.  She can’t stop herself from telling you what she thinks.  I have another friend who has gone from introverted to withdrawn.  To one degree or another, deafness to the need for personal change afflicts us all.  But deep change is a given in aging.   Simply put –  being seventy-five isn’t the same as being thirty-five. It requires attention to those things that no longer work.

I just completed a home remodeling project that involved three months of strangers in the house, broken promises, attention to detail, being tough, being understanding, patience, persistence, perspective, on-the-spot decision-making, changes of plan, more patience, curbing the impulse to murder someone, finding a not-at-all-obvious solution to a problem, paying and trusting strangers to be the experts – just to name a few of the challenges.

In retrospect, I’m SO grateful.  It was a forced march toward understanding who I am and who I want to be.  It gave me opportunities to discover and occasionally re-discover talents.  My dad was what we called a “jerry-rigger.” He fixed everything with string, tape or wire.  He wanted leaded glass windows, so he made them out in the garage.  I found out I’m a “jerry-rigger” too, and it makes me happy to feel that every problem has a solution.

I found out that my self-imposed rule to wait twenty-four hours before making a big decision isn’t always possible, even if it’s desirable.  I learned to trust some of my instincts even when no one else agrees with me.  I learned to ask questions when something doesn’t seem right.  I learned to be more tolerant and less angry when people let me down.  I took a journey inward toward figuring out some elements of my “essential self.”  A friend shared the Hebrew word “teshuva” signifying a return to the Divine, repentance, atonement, getting back to the true self. I hope for such renewal – a remodeling of my life as well as my condo.

The KonMari method is a system of simplifying and organizing your home by getting rid of all the stuff that doesn’t bring joy. It was created by organizing consultant Marie Kondo and described in detail in her book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. If you don’t know who Marie Kondo is, Google her.

I call what is happening to me “The KonMari Method of Age-ing and Sage-ing”. (My thanks to Marie and Rabbi Zalman Schacter-Salomi.)   Kondo’s method for weeding out your clothing—yes, all those things from thirty years ago when you weighed twenty-five or forty pounds less  or that you bought when you lived in Florida and now you live in Nome—involves taking every piece from every closet and putting it all on top of your bed.  Then you pick up each piece and say, “Does this give me joy?” Discard those that don’t.

In my KonMari of Age-ing and Sage-ing, pull out your old paradigms, self-stories, keys to success, the things you consider inherent  -“it’s who I am ”or “this is what I do” –  I’m not creative, I think everything is mind over matter, it’s selfish to take time for yourself, etc. etc. —and ask yourself  “Is this helping me live fully right now?”  Is it adaptive?  Is it of value? Is it helping me adjust to new limits or forcing me to fight them?  Discard those that are keeping you from embracing both the limits and possibilities of old age.  It will take more patience and practice than throwing out the hole-y sweater you got when you were eighteen, but it will liberate you to be who you most want to be.

My hope is that I can crack the hard shell of definition that surrounds me.  I hope to break open my criticalness or my over-reliance on approval or my repertoires of everything from how I eat to how I love. I want to re-define my vocation, my attitudes and desires as an old woman.  I want to balance deep reinvention with great appreciation for the unfolding of my life to now.

Is that too much to hope for?  Possibly.  But I love the quote from George Bernard Shaw: “Life is no ‘brief candle’ to me.  It is a sort of splendid torch I have got hold of for a moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.”