"In spite of illness, in
spite even of the arch-enemy sorrow, one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change,
insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big things, and happy in small
ways."
--Edith Wharton
This quote came across in an email a few days ago and I saved it, because it shifted my own consciousness and I figured if it did it once, it might again. What Wharton says here was absolutely true for most of the admirable and remarkable older people I've known, but I'm not sure I would have been able to encapsulate their characteristics quite so succinctly.
During rough times -- especially, maybe, in midlife when we're struggling to come to terms with the uncomfortable realities and realizations about our own aging and its inevitable consequence -- it's hard to see quite how to "do" it: grow older gracefully, with courage, humor, and the kind of amused equanimity that continues to make certain people attractive and interesting right to the end. The fact is that life delivers potentially devastating blows to nearly everyone - we're going to get ill, to suffer loss and disappointment, to fail, to face fear and loneliness; we're going to have to give up certain things and accept others that seem impossible right now, and to say goodbye to people who are as dear to us as our own lives.
The people I've admired most certainly had their share of difficulties; they weren't immune, but as Wharton says, they were vibrantly alive in spite of all of that. They also all had passionate interests that continued throughout their lives; they kept reading and learning and doing creative things like music or art or needlework or woodwork or planting gardens; they kept moving; and if their physical bodies gave out in certain ways, they adapted so that they could continue enjoying and participating in life. Of course not everyone keeps the same level of mental or physical capacity, and many of us have problems with depression that are not a matter of will. But I think Wharton points in the right direction, even though she doesn't talk about relationships, or humor, or mischief, all of which also seem important. She reminds me that being passionate about what we love isn't something that necessarily diminishes with age, and that it's important not only to accept change, but to see it as a positive thing, not to be feared.
Just to put all of this into even starker perspective, I spent a couple of hours today with a friend at a rehabilitation hospital here in the city, and saw many patients who were learning to live with huge disabilities like amputations and paralysis. At a distance, I saw a lovely young woman on crutches, with complicated leg braces, walk up to a handsome young man in a wheelchair, with only one leg, and the two of them started talking and smiling as if nothing were wrong. Another woman was learning how to use a motorized wheelchair, with a guide dog running beside it on a leash. There was a young man and an elderly one, both with only one arm. I saw a lot of things, including a carefully-designed building, and a staff that was clearly competent and compassionate and most of all, normal with each patient.
Then you come out into the sunshine and get into your car...
In the end it seems to me that the most important shift in consciousness is not to be made toward greater gratitude for good fortune while we have it, but toward the conscious awareness that every life includes great challenges, and that preparing our spirits for them is a life's work.
This quote came across in an email a few days ago and I saved it, because it shifted my own consciousness and I figured if it did it once, it might again. What Wharton says here was absolutely true for most of the admirable and remarkable older people I've known, but I'm not sure I would have been able to encapsulate their characteristics quite so succinctly.
During rough times -- especially, maybe, in midlife when we're struggling to come to terms with the uncomfortable realities and realizations about our own aging and its inevitable consequence -- it's hard to see quite how to "do" it: grow older gracefully, with courage, humor, and the kind of amused equanimity that continues to make certain people attractive and interesting right to the end. The fact is that life delivers potentially devastating blows to nearly everyone - we're going to get ill, to suffer loss and disappointment, to fail, to face fear and loneliness; we're going to have to give up certain things and accept others that seem impossible right now, and to say goodbye to people who are as dear to us as our own lives.
The people I've admired most certainly had their share of difficulties; they weren't immune, but as Wharton says, they were vibrantly alive in spite of all of that. They also all had passionate interests that continued throughout their lives; they kept reading and learning and doing creative things like music or art or needlework or woodwork or planting gardens; they kept moving; and if their physical bodies gave out in certain ways, they adapted so that they could continue enjoying and participating in life. Of course not everyone keeps the same level of mental or physical capacity, and many of us have problems with depression that are not a matter of will. But I think Wharton points in the right direction, even though she doesn't talk about relationships, or humor, or mischief, all of which also seem important. She reminds me that being passionate about what we love isn't something that necessarily diminishes with age, and that it's important not only to accept change, but to see it as a positive thing, not to be feared.
Just to put all of this into even starker perspective, I spent a couple of hours today with a friend at a rehabilitation hospital here in the city, and saw many patients who were learning to live with huge disabilities like amputations and paralysis. At a distance, I saw a lovely young woman on crutches, with complicated leg braces, walk up to a handsome young man in a wheelchair, with only one leg, and the two of them started talking and smiling as if nothing were wrong. Another woman was learning how to use a motorized wheelchair, with a guide dog running beside it on a leash. There was a young man and an elderly one, both with only one arm. I saw a lot of things, including a carefully-designed building, and a staff that was clearly competent and compassionate and most of all, normal with each patient.
Then you come out into the sunshine and get into your car...
In the end it seems to me that the most important shift in consciousness is not to be made toward greater gratitude for good fortune while we have it, but toward the conscious awareness that every life includes great challenges, and that preparing our spirits for them is a life's work.
'It has no time limit.You can start whenever you want.You can change or stay the same,there are no rules to this thing.We can make the best of it or the worst of it.I hope you make the best of it.I hope you see things that startle you.I hope you feel things that you never felt before.I hope you meet people with a different point of view.I hope you live a life you're proud of.And if you find you are not,I hope you have the strength to start all over again.'
From the Movie 'The Curious case of Benjamin Button'
As a lawyer I see people all the time who have made a mess of their lives but sometimes I see some who somehow find the strength to start again.This is both deeply moving and also a challenge to me to try harder in my own life.Perhaps it is as Aristotle said that of all the virtues the greatest is courage because it makes all the other virtues possible
Posted by: john | May 04, 2009 at 09:59 PM
I've often worried about how well prepared I'll be for life's most appalling (and inevitable) difficulties.
I've been strangely cheered by the research that shows that we bounce back pretty well from major disappointments, even unbelievably hard things like divorce, or losing a limb, or being bereaved. It's rough at first, say the researchers, but within a few years, the happiness level is back to what it was. The same thing applies to "good" news: getting hitched, having a kid, winning the lottery, getting a promotion: great for a while, then the emotions return to normal.
Apparently each person has some sort of preset point (cheerful, melancholy, cranky) that he/she eventually returns to, regardless of what life upheavals have intervened.
In some secret part of myself, I'm not sure I really believe this. Or, rather, I don't believe it'll apply quite so effectively to me: I think my happiness *is* circumstance dependent, and also I think it is affected by my mental preparation for life's vicissitudes.
Posted by: lucas | May 05, 2009 at 05:26 PM
What you describe here makes me wistful for my days of hospital chaplaincy work. I remember feeling, in those situations which were so often a kind of emotional extremis, that none of the petty ups and downs of my ordinary life could stand up to the significance of sickness and health, life and death, pause and change.
I really like the end of this post. That every life has great challenges, and preparing ourselves for them is a life's work. Yes.
Posted by: Rachel Barenblat | May 05, 2009 at 06:37 PM
I think Wharton is focused in this quote on the individual, rather than the individual's relation to the greater world. The feeling of our own age and our perception of happiness are sometimes only a state of mind in an otherwise healthy person; it is often our choice, whether conscious or not, to stay mentally engaged, to remain interested, to opt for happiness.
I've known people who seem young despite their advancing age, and others who seem aged in their thinking and approach to life while still youthful. When I was a teenager, I spent a lot of time with my lovely great-grandmother. At the time, she was in her seventies. Granny didn't finish high school. She spent her life raising children and cooking at a local diner once they left home. There was nothing cerebral or sophisticated about her, but she was, and is, one of the most fascinating people I've ever known. She loved to cook and continued cooking every day even if it was only for one. She loved people and was terribly interested in anyone who crossed her path. She left her home every day and interacted with someone. I remember her referring to some of her contemporaries as "old". Even when she was in her 90s and wasn't quite sure of her great-grandchildren's identities, she still retained that zest for life that defined her.
Granny was a remarkable woman. I think Edith Wharton would have been impressed.
Posted by: Kaycie | May 06, 2009 at 09:23 AM
The invalid has a good day,
the uptick charts to the sky.
The invalid has a turndown,
the count to splashdown begins.
She runs a deficit in her health
until the day she dies.
Posted by: Bill | May 06, 2009 at 01:16 PM
Great quote. I appreciate my mother, who at 78, has just opened a craft gallery with 14 members and is planning a trip to LA for a concert. Replaced knees, cataract surgery and a stent in her throat. Family problems galore but she loves new things and a chance to travel and meet people. In spite of her difficulties, she is cheerful, funny, and has the knack of enjoying simple things, which I inherited.
Hope I am like her in 20 years. Chances are good.
Posted by: zuleme | May 09, 2009 at 07:35 AM
Beth: i love this quote and thanks for bringing it back to my mind again. you're absolutely right about it having the power to shift your consciousness again - it just did mine. so i've written it down in anticipation of finding my scribblings at a later time and enjoying the quote again!
Posted by: Joan | May 22, 2009 at 11:32 AM