Old age should burn and rave at close of day. That is one of my favourite lines from the poem Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by the famous Welsh poet Dylan Thomas. I read it as a teenager and it had a resonance even then, but now it has so much more relevance, meaning and power to it.
We all know we’re going to die, someday. We push the thought away, bury it in our subconscious, and if it emerges, we shovel as much grit and daily living on top of it that it remains buried, dark and deep. To continue to think about our mortality as a young person would probably lead to mental health issues and a paralysis of the deepest kind.
However, as we age and perhaps as we pass the biblical three score years and 10, the ability to deny somehow wears off.
We all now know that we have fewer years ahead than we have behind; we probably know on a cellular level that our bodies are rapidly ageing and often betraying us; our joints ache, need replacing, our mobility lessens, arthritic hands refuse to open the lid of even a screw-top wine bottle or bottle of tonic for the gin. Such an indignity as well as a bloody nuisance.
Mirror, mirror
Our image of ourselves changes too, leaving us puzzled as to who is that old person in the mirror or who is that person reflected in the window of the shop that we pass. Surely that can’t be us? Surely if we exercise more then those flabby arms will disappear and tone will be restored. We wish.
To some degree staying fit and exercising helps, but entropy rules as the physicists would say. Damn the second law of thermodynamics.
What should we do with this harsh reality? Put our head in the sand and deny the bleeding obvious? Drink ourselves into oblivion? Spend our life in front of the telly watching Netflix and munching on whatever snack floats your boat? Corn chips and salsa come to mind – you can keep your chocolate.
These are, of course, all available strategies. Denial is a safe and happy island fortress, a mental strategy that many employ for their entire lifetime, not just in their twilight years.
There is also the argument that if you dwell too much on the inevitable, then you spend your last years in a fog of existential angst, arguably missing out on what enjoyment there is to be had.
The famous painting by Pieter Bruegel, of Icarus falling from the sky, evokes the sense that life will continue without us, just as the world hardly noticed the fall from the sky of the boy who flew too close to the sun. We are important and not important, that eternal dichotomy and contradiction.
So, what to do?
Find what floats your boat. Buy the new towels, the new crockery, treat yourself, go on a cruise, begin that art class, clean out your wardrobe and donate stuff you don’t need, volunteer to help others, talk to strangers when you travel, take risks. Rage. Make your presence felt. Ask for things.
There are always usually two answers, yes or no, but to never ask is to live in a world of future regret. And there is little time ahead.
What’s your tactic as you age? Share your ideas in the comments section below.
Also read: Ultimate guest list: Who would you invite to dinner?
“our bodies are rapidly ageing and often betraying us” – Fortunately, many of us realise that !!
“take risks” – NOT WITH EXERCISE !!
Unfortunately, the older we get, the more careful we have to be, not to ‘over do it’. Unfortunately, ‘over-exercising takes much longer to ‘get over’. In this regard, the Canadian 5BX/XBX system is useful: a measured exercise program – related to your age.
Happy New Year !!
Happy exercising – controlled. 🙂