Aging well

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" 

Mary Oliver: The Summer Day 

We each have but one life to live, and to give, though most days it seems neither precious nor wild. But it is our life-our one life. And no matter how many days, weeks, months, or years are left in it, our one life is precious. 

When faced with a life-changing illness or the reality of aging and eventual death, many people decide to re-group and re-evaluate priorities and way of life. 

And that is good. 

Because, in the normalcy of every-day routine, we can become mired in not seeing the forest through the trees. In the hustle, bustle, and scheduled chaos of daily life, it's easy to miss both the forest and the trees. And our myopic culture, with its narrow vision of what it means to be human, doesn't help. 

The fragmented culture, with its relentless focus on superficiality and materialism, trains us to see only a small part of a single branch, on the all-but-invisible tree of life. Sadly, too often, our diminished life-view consists of a solitary leaf, isolated from branch and tree, roots and soil, rain and sunshine, day and night, isolated from other trees, and from the life-saving eco-system of consoling grace. 

Focusing too narrowly on the troubles of everyday life can cause us to miss out on a kind of photosynthesis of the soul, the process during which light is turned into growth. A soul, like a plant, can't grow without the sun. We need light from true wisdom to shine warmth into our lives. Lived compassion is seeded in us, early and late.  As little children, we learn service by seeing love in action.  And if learned intergenerational wisdom is not ceded to us by mothers and grandmothers, neighbors, and mentors, then we can choose it ourselves, deciding to be seekers of wisdom and warmth to others.    

We need the strength, courage, endurance, and fortitude to face our future with hope, to continue to grow in life-wisdom, to live our lives attentively, and to be instruments of mercy to our families, friends, coworkers, and community. 

If there exists a blessing during aging, illness, and grief, it is this: that we are "forced" to slow down, to look at and to see our life for what it is, to see the materialism, careerism, egocentrism, and brokenness that mark much of our daily existence. 

And to make changes, if we dare. 

Elemental concerns are not pushed out of our lives, so much as crowded out. For much of our lives, the busyness and the noise of all-that-needs-to-be-done crowds out the time that should be allotted to our interior life and to respite from the storm. Eventually, through the process of aging, illness, or grief, we begin to reflect more frequently on what is most important in our lives, on family and friends, honor and integrity. We begin to discern our lived legacy and decide how to let the the setting sun's light into our interior.

The temptation can be to look back instead of forward, to imagine life is ended instead of continuing in a new and ever-different way. Mary Oliver's inquiry is, at its heart, an invitation to hope, a reminder that each day, each moment, in life is intended to be lived with mindfulness and joy, reflection and hope. 

"What will I do with my one wild and precious life?" 

What will I do, this day, with my one life? What choices will I make, today, to honor the precious gift of this one day -- this fragile day, filled as it is with stresses and struggles, pain and uncertainty, grief and worry? 

Maybe I will decide to live simply, to love more, and to listen better, to seek out and to offer forgiveness, to cherish my beloved, to be kind to myself and to others, to live for the good beyond myself, and to leave a legacy of faith, and hope, and love, to all who encounter me. 

That would be wild indeed. And infinitely precious.