Or consider Buddhist monks and others who exhibit transcendence at an early age. Even in the midst of the Vietnamese war, Zen Buddhist Thich Nhat Hanh developed serenity as he watched fellow monks die. He also constructed a powerful philosophy that saw us all as part of one another. His poem, “Please Call Me By My True Names,” noted how we are one with flowers and animals.
Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
Some predict the future will be one of conscious aging, where meditation changes values, enhances performance, and generates serenity for multitudes. This is the idea of “functional age” versus “actual age.” (Don’t carry the idea too far, and fail to take care of real problems that are not “just in the mind”; as one psychologist said, “That’s a good way to end up [earlier than necessary] on a slab.”)
Quandary Three: Can “Very Old” Or “Oldest Old” Adults Contribute Usefully?
A problem often interferes in our search for meaning: When we’re very old, we no longer seem to be able to serve. My surviving older brother, age 88, and his lady friend, age 92, both told me, in essence, I’m ready for the Lord to call me home to heaven, because I’m not able to do anything useful. I have no mission in life.
When I visited him this past summer, it was my privilege to remind him that he’s highly respected among all the people in the retirement home where he lives and can help others with their boredom and loss of connections with loved ones. He still can care for himself, eats with others in the common dining room, worships with them in the chapel and smiles beautifully as he talks with them. He helps make their lives a little easier and a little more joyful.
Moreover, both he and his 92-year-old lady friend make each other happy, after suffering the deaths of their spouses some years ago. It’s touching to hear them tease each other, and then sometimes ask, “Do you still love me?” They clearly experience love and caring. That’s a meaningful “oldest old” age!
Consider the words of Florida Scott Maxwell, in “The Measure of My Days“: “Old age is truly a time of heroic helplessness … Another day to be filled, to be lived silently, watching the sky and the lights on the wall … I have no duties except to myself. That is not true. I have a duty to all who care for me — not to be a problem, not to be a burden. I must carry my age lightly, for all our sakes, and thank God I can.”
Consider This: In The Future, Could We Live To Be 1,000 Years Old?
When I ask biologists that question, they almost always say, “No, our brain isn’t programmed that way,” or “The process of senescence is inevitable; the body simply has limits.”
But Aubrey de Grey of Cambridge University says, “Aging is a physical phenomenon … so … as medicine becomes more and more powerful, we will inevitably be able to address [aging] just as effectively as we address many diseases today.” Each generation lives longer, he notes.
Stem cell research is progressing even without government funding since a recent court ruling, but as a generation younger — in real terms — begins to control government, the aid will be forthcoming. And indeed, such research is funded by governments in other countries already. It may one day be possible to cure many now incurable diseases; de Grey comments: “I think the first person to live to 1,000 might be 60 already.”
It has cheered me to hear people of all ages say, “I love my life,” without implying narcissism or selfishness. Maybe one friend’s statement is best: “Life is good.” May it be so for each of us.
This article was first published in Brain World Magazine’s Winter 2011 issue.
