Age-Ing

by Clarinda Mac Low

I’ve been trying to figure out how to reveal the inner experience of aging with words, and it has been unusually difficult to formulate a beginning.  So I’m going to start simply, by mentioning my knee.  And my back.  And my ankle.  And my teeth.  And my ovaries.  And the skin on my stomach.  And the backs of my legs.  And my vision.  And my muscle mass.  And my energy level.

Everything changes.

Our bodies live embedded in time, changing incrementally with every passing second.  Everything around us is freighted with the finite nature of biological systems.  Even the words “passing second” are tied to our inescapable aging. I’m not that old, but I feel it now, in a way that was formerly hidden.

How beautiful is aging, the evidence of survival.  How frightening is our inevitable breakdown.

The secret is, we are given compensations. You’re less beautiful (in the conventional sense), but you don’t care about that kind of beauty as much anymore.  Your reflexes are slower and your joints feel funny, but you’ve learned to take it easy.  Your mind may be slower, but it is deeper.  Emotional intensity wanes, but you realize peace is full of its own quiet joy.  You dance slower, but your movement carries a weight it never had before.

When you have lived moving most of your life, when you are indelibly printed with body knowledge, you never lose it.  When you age, you can feel your cells breaking down, and years of constant use start to catch up with you.  You learn to fear the loss of mobility, and every ache and pain can seem a harbinger of some awful conclusion.  But you are given compensations.  The sensitivity that engenders our fear allows us to adjust incrementally to our continual changing.  We feel every ache and pain, but, at our best, we also understand how to sustain our skeletons and nurture our muscles, stay aware and in the moment.

It’s a choice you make.  Lament.  Or accept.  Complain.  Or adapt.  Regret. Or adjust. Freeze. Or move.

I don’t know the secret to staying young.  I don’t think staying young is actually desirable. But there is at least one way to help the process of aging seem less onerous.

Just keep moving.  It doesn’t matter how vigorous, or how spectacular.  What we lose in absolute power we gain in humility and depth.  Just keep moving, and staying aware of the movement, and aware of breath and blood and bone and skin.  Find the spark that started you off in the first place, and fan the flame.  Just keep moving, even if you’ve switched professions.  Never give up your body knowledge, and never lose sight of what started you dancing in the first place.

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