Late-life crisis number 7

Or getting old ain’t for sissies!

The Ages of Man, by Anonymous — Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=93772078

“In seven years from th’ earliest breath, The child puts forth his hedge of teeth; When strengthened by a similar span, He first displays some signs of man.

As in a third, his limbs increase, A beard buds o’er his changing face. When he has passed a fourth such time, His strength and vigour’s in its prime.

When five times seven years o’er his head Have passed, the man should think to wed; At forty two, the wisdom’s clear To shun vile deed of folly or fear:

While seven times seven years to sense Add ready wit and eloquence. And seven years further skill admit To raise them to their perfect height.

When nine such periods have passed, His powers, though milder grown, still last; When God has granted ten times seven, The aged man prepares for heaven.”

— Solon of Greece

I’m well beyond having a midlife crisis. Already had two, one in my late 30s and one in my late 50s. Neither one accomplished anything useful. I suppose I’m having a late life crisis? I’m sure women have midlife crises but it would be presumptive of me to speak for them.

There is a singer everyone has heard, Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird, Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again. He says that leaves are old and that for flowers Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten.

He says the early petal-fall is past When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers On sunny days a moment overcast; And comes that other fall we name the fall. He says the highway dust is over all.

The bird would cease and be as other birds But that he knows in singing not to sing. The question that he frames in all but words Is what to make of a diminished thing.

The Oven Bird, by Robert Frost

The ovenbird is a medium-sized warbler that makes a dome-shaped nest in forests of decent canopy and little ground cover. In mid-summer and fall, we hear its call of “Teach-ah, teach-ah, teach-ah!” Others hear it as, “Preacher, preacher, preacher!” Personally, I think either one is a stretch but “teach-ah” might be closer.

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What is Frost talking about here?

Frost was 42 years old when he wrote it. He is in the mid-summer of his life, looking at the approach of fall, then winter. Already he feels the diminution of his life force and he knows it can only go downhill from there. When he wrote the poem, old age set in 20 years earlier than it does today. Back in 1914, if you lived to become an adult the odds were still solidly stacked against you making it to 65.

He lived to the ripe old age of 89, dying in an age of modern medicine never imagined in his youth. Being affluent, having good genes and being lucky played an important role. The average guy did not get a lot of preventative medical care back then.

It is a topic near and not-very-dear to my heart. One of the very few things that can give me sleepless nights full of foreboding. Not just growing old but diminishing.

The question that he frames in all but words Is what to make of a diminished thing.

Diminishing starts as soon as you stop growing. IIRC that is in your early 20s. There can be a plateau of sorts until the mid-30s. People who abuse their bodies for a living really start to decline then. Pro athletes in their 40s are extremely rare birds. Their physical plant diminishes just like the rest of us and significant injuries never heal completely.

OK boomer!

What to make of a diminished thing? The body becomes achy and weak. No longer in demand, you may be expected to stand aside and let the next in line take over. You are ignored by those who are younger. Money and status can delay the timing but it is still inevitable. Good genes, the best health care, and careful living can slow the decline. You arrive at the same place — it just took longer to get there. Stay at home with your Ensure and Geritol and adult diapers. Return to all the bad things about childhood and none of the good.

Frost offers no answer, just the foreboding of an inevitable future.

There is an alternative approach.

I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’ Gleams that untravell’d world whose margin fades For ever and forever when I move.

How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use! As tho’ to breathe were life! Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me

Little remains: but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself,

And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

Ulysses by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

My God, what a poet! To make aging sound so noble. To empower that which today is treated with derision. The retired Boomer who mirrors that sentiment gets no respect and often contempt.

[embed]The most stirring scene in any of the many Bond flicks was this where Dame Judy Dench, playing the spymaster M of MI6, reads these lines to the intelligence committee of Parliament.

Ulysses isn’t really old, just at a late middle age that was enabled by the grace of high status, great affluence and the best medicine ancient Greece could offer. (Those he ruled could not expect to live so long nor to be so healthy.) He, just as is Frost, is looking ahead at the tragedy that envelopes everyone who is “lucky” enough to grow old. The tragedy isn’t death. It is old age. Infirmity, incontinence, inadequacy, and uselessness. Senility and toothlessness. Chronic pain for which there is no remedy.

Even the mighty Thor couldn’t defeat old age, immortal though he seemed. It did take him a long, long time to fall.

[embed]Elli and Thor: How an elderly woman beat the god of thunder in wrestling In this classic tale from the sagas, we learn how even the mightiest of Norse gods can be humbled due to their hubris.www.thevikingherald.com

Wouldn’t it be good to have one more adventure? If I die along the way, well, that was going to happen anyhow. If nothing else I’d skip the unpleasant part.

Such is the aging crisis today. What to make of a diminished thing before it is lost completely? People are ridiculed and jokes are made. One should grow old gracefully. According to Max Ehrman’s Desiderata, one should:

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

I an not a big fan of this. I think one should push one’s limits even as one inevitably becomes more limited. Resisting the decline is not the same as denying it. Replace those knees. Lose that weight. Exercise however much you can. Keep the cholesterol low. Yes, your body is old. And that makes you old. But a tired old mind can still contain young thoughts.

© Licensed to simonjacobs.com. 30/10/2019 Kingston, UK. Residents at Care UK’s Sherwood Grange care home take part in a nude life drawing class. FREE PRESS AND PR USAGE. Photo credit: Simon Jacobs

Aging can be noble and need not be pathetic. More men and women need to read more poetry and look more deeply into themselves to understand what is going on. One needs to affirm life and one’s value as a human being even as the world around you tells you otherwise.

[embed]“People of my age are not noticed at all. So, I am noticed for that hour.”

Tennyson and Frost (Oven Bird) are both addressing the same question. Frost offers no answer. Tennyson suggests going down swinging. What differs in Ulysses’ final fling and what often passes for it today is narcissism.

And to abet this we have people spouting nonsense like, “Age is just a number. You’re as young as you feel!” Obviously then, my” age” fluctuates wildly from one day to the next. One day I can run a naked 5K staggeringly drunk with not a single aftereffect. Another day I might be so crippled up I can barely make it from bed to the toilet.

Image by Marjonhorn from Pixabay

I’m 70 years old. Some days I “feel” like I’m 40 and fit. Others I “feel” like I’m 80+ and struggling. The body knows what the mind would deny.

As Dame Judy read:

We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Ulysses by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

You see, Ulysses knows his days are numbered. He knows he is already in decline and has been for some time. But he is still capable of doing something. He is heroic while the most common version today is entirely hedonistic. He sees pain, suffering and early death as his reward. But it beats the hell out of sitting around the old folks home talking ’bout those glory days.

[embed]Now that’s more like it!

The world is full of problems that need to be solved. Everyone has something they can contribute, even if it is just a bit of support for a cause. Find yourself a cause, something greater than yourself and throw all the angst and longing and diminishing capacity into that. Tackle a dream you think impossible, one small step at a time. Sail beyond your own sunset.

Strive, seek, maybe find, and hopefully not yield.

[embed]The Art Of Growing Old Finding Meaning In The Philosophy Of Aging - Philosopedia You likely think of aging as a series of birthdays or a biological countdown, but have you ever considered it as a…philosopedia.org