Dr. Adam Sheck recently turned 55, and wonders what new responsibilities he has now that he is an elder.
I recently turned 55 and am really wondering, how did I get to be so bleeping old!?
In my head I’m most often 25, sometimes 35 and when I’m forced to be mature, possibly 45. But 55 is really old, at least according to my 25-year-old self.
Being on the planet for over half a century is crazy and fascinating and bizarre and absolutely something to be grateful for, given the finality of the alternative. Yet, it completely stuns me when I contemplate it.
The question I have been asking myself is, “Am I an elder, or am I just getting older?”
In most of the communities I play in, men after fifty are considered elders. I’m part of a men’s group which is comprised entirely of men after fifty, an “elder group” if you will. Now these guys are really old, and help me realize that I’m only just starting out on this “elder” path.
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“Elder” comes from the Old English word, eldra, which refers to a parent or other older person. In 1875 in Britain, the Friendly Societies Act defined old age as “any age after 50” though back then, that was pretty close to death.
Webster isn’t of much help either on defining an elder as:
- of earlier birth or greater age.
- of or relating to earlier time.
- prior or superior in rank, office, or validity
In many traditions, an elder is a person who deserves respect and honor. Did they earn it though or they simply “deserve” it for surviving for so long?
Their role in the community is to remember the past and synthesize wisdom from those experiences and generate a legacy for the future generations. An elder holds wisdom and has something to give back, to teach, to share.
Does our society respect or even want access to wisdom? Does being an elder even mean anything in society anymore? Especially where I live, the youth oriented City of fallen angels, Los Angeles?
Successful aging here means that you look significantly younger than your age, participate in physical activities that younger people engage in, inject poisons into your forehead and possibly have sex with partners in your adult children’s peer group. And of course, the most important rule about aging: deny, deny, deny!
While I am blessed with good DNA and can look ten years younger than my age in bad lighting, the rest of it isn’t that appealing to me.
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I’ve worked damn hard to get to where I am today: physically, emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually. While I may act like a teenager at times and fail miserably when I try not to gawk too blatantly at pretty young things, I want more in my life than the deep superficiality of the Californication of aging.
I don’t even really like the word “elder” though I’m sure I will grow into it eventually. In the meantime, part of being an elder is to accept that I am getting older.
People that say, “You’re only as old as you feel” are full of shit in my opinion. Appearances to the contrary, my body feels its age, particularly first thing in the morning as I roll out of bed.
My body is beginning to break down in small ways, as it moves towards the final entropy of death. I take care of myself as best I can, while at the same time I understand and accept that most likely, I have less time left on the planet than I have lived on it to date.
Of course, part of aging is dealing with that death thing. How does an elder face this existential issue? To be honest, the idea of death doesn’t particularly frighten me. The idea of a painful death doesn’t thrill me, but I don’t think that makes me unusual.
I have witnessed my share of deaths over the years, and perhaps that the price of longevity, and an entry fee into elderhood. Each time that I have held a loved one’s body while they left it, I have known without a doubt that we are more than our bodies, that something continues on past the survival of the shell.
Despite all of that, I am not really curious about the afterlife and where the soul goes when it leaves the shell. I’m not at the place where I need that sense of knowing. Dealing with my life right now is more than enough to handle; it has enough surprises and joys and delights and tragedies to experience and grow from.
That might change as I get closer to my final breaths, assuming that I will have sufficient warning time. For now, I leave it up to others to argue over whatever mythology makes them the most comfortable, that brings them the most support in facing death.
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So what have I learned from being on the planet half a century? I’ve learned to connect to myself a little bit more. I’ve learned not to take most of it too seriously. I’ve learned that I don’t have all the time in the world and that I must push myself out of my comfort zone in order to live a more meaningful life.
I’ve learned that meaning and purpose, what I call “mission”, is what I want to be the driver of the rest of my life. To me, mission is what gives me ongoing fulfillment and joy, much more so than the sensations of the moment… though those are good, too.
The bottom line is that I feel much more like an elder in training then a full-fledged one, maybe more like a mini-elder. Time is marching on. I’m growing as an elder, as a man and as a man who has something to contribute to the planet.
Back to the question, “Am I an elder or just getting older?” My answer is a resounding, “Yes!”
To be continued …
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