Never the Spirit was born—

The Spirit shall cease to be, never.

Never was time it was not—

End and beginning are dreams.

Birthless and deathless and changeless

Abideth the Spirit forever.

Death doth not touch it at all.---

            --The Bhagavad Gita

 

    This past week, my husband and I noticed one of the inevitable results of getting older.  Normally my husband makes my coffee as we put together our breakfasts.  Now and then he forgets to click the “on” button, but he forgot twice in one week!  I decided to take over the job, after having to turn on the coffeemaker myself two mornings in a row.  The next morning Jerry put the water in the coffee maker and I put the coffee and filter into the coffeemaker—and Jerry delighted in telling me that I’d forgotten to turn it on!

 

    Getting older in our society takes a pretty bad rap in our youth-oriented culture.  We are constantly reminded and can’t help noticing how our bodies droop, our faces wrinkle, our limbs stiffen and our memories begin to fade.  For me, in spite of some of the difficulties of aging, being alive is a spiritual blessing and consciously grounded in my spiritual practice.  As I notice my physical changes, with both annoyance and fascination, I’m reminded about the impermanence of everything.  Everything grows old and dies, someday.  It is a natural process.  In fact, from the moment we are born we are dying; it is only by getting older that we recognize the truth of this statement.  Since we are living and dying at the same time, do we ever actually become either alive or dead?  Even when we die, is the dying process an ending or only matter transforming into energy?

 

    As I get older, I realize that something is being transformed in the process of being middle aged.  I start calling people in their 30’s “kids.”   I find myself wanting to slow down more, to reflect on an idea, or to admire a flower on my path or to just simply “be.”  I realize I have a choice of moving into old age in many different ways:  protesting my losses, expressing gratitude for all the gifts I’ve received, or simply watching life unfold in sometimes predictable, sometimes surprising, sometimes mysterious ways.  My perception and understanding of the world becomes richer, more colorful and more alive.

 

    Getting older has improved my sense of humor!  My husband and I both laughed over the coffee pot incident.  As I notice my forgetfulness, I also wonder if my experience falls into the pattern of normal aging and is not a sign of something physically deeper.  I notice my anxiety as I laugh at myself, and allow all of it to be, just as it is.  Being absentminded also allows me to loosen my grasp on being perfect.  My perfect lack of perfection is shining brightly through my absent-mindedness, and I can no longer turn away.  I may still become caught up in my desire for perfection, but I hold onto it less tightly and let it go more easily.  These experiences are life unfolding, maturing and fading, deepening and simplifying, opening and closing.  And as we say in Zen, it’s all dharma:  it is our sacred life teaching us, it is life experience, it is life itself, it is the whole universe in each age spot and wrinkle, as I am living and dying each moment.