Wonder — by Lucky

Like Mystery, everything seems to be shot through with wonder! The spaciousness that flows from these places, within all parts of reality, leaves me breathless. I am disturbed, by living within so much magnificent mystery. Because this is so, I’m finding it harder and harder to think and comment about anything. Probability seems to dictate that no matter how I look, or which way my attention is drawn, I behold a certain amount of wondrous uncertainty. Its all so much, so mysteriously undetermined, while being solid, that I wonder if I can even sensibly write about it.

Reflecting, as I am, on this aspect of my experience, and trying to find words for it, is, no doubt, part of the foolishness I was born with. Somehow, without any intention on my part, I’ve become aware of something so thoroughly palpable because it isn’t there. I mean, rather crazily I’m sure, that what isn’t there is what seems to accompany what is. And, even more strangely, gives it shape, dimension and meaning.

I was never prepared for this kind of perception. And it seems, that uttering anything about it is hopeless. Still, I keep thinking that there should be someway to talk about it. There seems to be something about reality that contains a probabilistic something that keeps everything connected and free. How is that possible! I don’t know, but I have noticed. The perception thrills me, and it leaves me befuddled. I can’t adequately articulate this aspect of my reality, yet it is so awesome I can’t ignore it either. I feel compelled to share it, and at the same time, I am aware that I am not really able to describe it.

So, what am I talking about? I can’t really say. I am trying not to use, over and over again, the words mystery, uncertainty, wonder and unknown. They need a rest, and only dimly refer to what vibrates in the background. I want to convey, and hear other’s perceptions about, this quick-silver facet of each moment, because somehow sharing such befuddlement is deeply reassuring. Maybe that’s what I’m doing here, noticing the wonder that keeps my heart beating.

Anyway, it seems like, in my dottage, this awareness has come on stronger than any past point of my life. I have a mixed reaction to this awareness. I love it. It seems so freeing. I have been released from all assumptions about what is going on here. Simultaneously, I feel a sense of foreboding. It is making me a more eccentric old man. I am being herded by Life into a smaller and smaller corral. Becoming more unique, is hard on a social animal, like me.

All I can say, honestly, is that I am growing more and more impressed by the sense of wonder growing in me.  My life is changing. I can feel it. Maybe this is death setting in, or maybe, I’m finally coming to Life. I no longer can say. Whatever is happening, is unbidden, I know that, or do I, maybe in my childhood, I called in this late-life sense of wonder. All I seem to know now, is that the flow is carrying me, through this canyon, where the walls are made up of a kaleidoscopic experience that bedazzles and befuddles me.

I could say Life is wondrous. That seems true. Putting that awareness alongside of my awareness of how cruel, destructive, hateful and arbitrary Life can be, leaves me on-edge. I teeter between hope and hopelessness. I don’t know why I can see all of this, but I do. Some days it hurts, some days I feel so lucky. All I can really say, and think, is, isn’t it a wonder!?

Isolation — by Lucky

I’ve found myself giving a lot of thought to isolation. As a savvier than normal old person I have a particular apprehension about the nature and effects of isolation. I don’t think it is very healthy for we social animals. I am also concerned about the costs that we all pay living in a cultural world where isolation is normal. Our lack of community, combined with our general distrust of each other, adds up to neglect of certain parts of our shared humanity. This is the source of my dismay. It is also something I can feel.

I’m sort of not really isolated. By that I mean that I have worked on staying connected. I have my disabilities to thank for some of that. I literally could not survive if I didn’t have caring others in my life. I am also a community-builder, one of those people who actually believes community is our natural social habitat. I’ve been a pain in the ass to my friends that way. The upshot of all this, is that I have more people in my life than many single, old people.

When I was making reassurance calls (see my last Slow Lane) someone said to me that I seemed to have lots of contacts, and therefore wasn’t all that isolated. I said at the time, and feel it more strongly the more I think about it, that when one lives in a cultural world where isolation is the norm, being as socially connected as I am, seems-like more than it is. Surprisingly, I feel a sense of isolation, even though I’m more connected than the average bear.

Isolation, it strikes me, is particularly harsh and corrosive to we old people. I’m already disabled, and somewhat used to asking for help, but most folks haven’t adapted to the break-downs that come with elder life. I know how hard that is. I saw a national news story a few weeks ago, which proves this point. It was about an 85-year old veteran who had returned from a hospital where he had just had surgery. He made the news because he called 911 to get help. His refrigerator was empty, and he was in no condition to go shopping. Luckily, one of the 911 operators was a social worker, who bought him some groceries. Imagine, his story made the news, because he’s a veteran.

The story concluded by saying over 40% of people over 65 didn’t have any kind of support system. In my book, we are the veterans. Life kills us all off, eventually. But, in the meantime, let’s all pay attention to how we choose to live. Isolation is our doing. Our social nature is somehow askew. There is so much we could say to each other, if only one could listen. There is so much beyond what we could say to each other. Age takes you down into the moment and dares one to show up.

My circumstances teeter on the relationships that support me. I suppose you have that same vulnerability. Now, these relationships are in good shape. And, they are because I am my own primary caretaker, and I have a deep awareness of the danger of isolation. I still have some influence over my own fate, but if I couldn’t take care of myself (and I’m not far from not being able to do so), the isolation that is prevalent in our social realm is likely to determine what happens. That is part of the backdrop of my life.

So, I think about isolation. I have an on-going apprehension about the erosion of community. Lately, however, I’ve grown more aware of how my friends are being affected. I know health suffers when people don’t have enough social life. But lately, I’ve become aware that the medical community has diagnosed cognitive decline as a brain impairment (a purely mechanical thing, perhaps responsive to brain exercises or medication) rather than addressing the decline in interactions and caring. Getting together, doesn’t reduce memory loss, but does put it into a healthier context. Old people who are more connected live a different quality of life.

This issue is probably too vast for one of my Slow Lanes. But, the level of isolation we modern humans live with, is part of our lifestyle being out of balance. I think that the speed of Life we live with, amounts to passing each other by.

Not only that, I think the speed we maintain also means that we have a tendency to pass our selves by.  I am growing more aware of how many people isolate themselves.  I was ethically concerned, as a therapist by the reliance on the consulting room and confidentiality, because they reinforced social isolation. To me, those things had a tendency to undermine community. Now, I’m finding so many people who have adjusted to isolation. They are prone to isolate themselves rather than get themselves out into the social hub-bub, where they can continue being surprised and growing.

My concern about how isolated I am, isn’t so much about my own personal situation right now, as it is about what is going on all around me. I guess I’m a good example of one being affected by the social environment I’m living in.

I go so far as to say, “a person who is socially cut-off (no matter if by oneself, or larger cultural processes) is not actually a whole person.” That may sound harsh, and perhaps is, overly judgmental, but for all practical reasons, if isolation is allowed to prevail, it is too true.