Sinking In by Lucky

As I’ve gotten older, particularly here in the later years of my life, I’ve noticed a kind of movement happening. I’m not referring to anything political or anything that one might consider a form of action. This undertaking seems to be occurring unbidden, rather naturally.  It is subtle, but never-the-less quite powerful. I have associated it with aging, because it doesn’t seem personal and as far as I know, I haven’t done anything that would bring this on. What I’m referring too is that I seem to be sinking down more into my own skin. My life is taking on more and more an inner dimension.

I think of it now like one of the old Tarzan TV programs I used to watch as a kid. Folks were always getting stuck in quicksand. I think I am stuck and being pulled in. It just occurred to me that one of the features of old age that I have been talking about lately is gravity. It doesn’t seem to be my friend. As I grow older I am shrinking. This feels a lot like that. I am being turned inward as my life experience increases. I am sinking in, pulled by some natural phenomenon, into unknown depths.

My early experiences with dreams and psychedelics make this a fairly non-threatening experience. I have generally liked the sense of direction that has come with having a more luminous inner life. This movement, appearing within me now, does seem rather odd though. I don’t know how else to relate to it. Just when my dreams have lost their intensity and regularity, this something else seems to be pitching in to captivate me. I’m dreaming less and imagining more.

I would say that whatever creative impulses I feel now all come to me in this same kind of unbidden way. My thoughts kind of loosely wander into strange places where, for some unknown reason, formerly separate things combine into unusual ideas. Yesterday, for instance, one of my brothers came into my mind and I imagined him doing something I’ve never seen him do. This kind of thing happens regularly now. I’m not about to report some weird form of precognition or even weirder synchronicity, but just the simple recognition that the thought of this brother doing that activity strikes me as endearing, and that tells me I want to see him sometime soon.

More commonly I find myself thinking of the past, envisioning an interaction, and remembering a specific person, place, or time in my life. Suddenly a realization involving my experience with that person, or with that time of my life, will come into my mind. All at once, I see that I was doing something other than what I thought I was doing at the time. Unbidden, my life (or another’s) will be revealed to me, in a light I’ve never seen before.

I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but what is happening is interesting, different, and sometimes illuminating. It happens often enough now where I’ve learned to trust it, and to pay attention. My life seems to be richer for it.

I don’t know about you, but I didn’t wish for this kind of development. Like some kind of alter-me, this gift of weird awareness just snuck into the house of my being. It was never a guest I invited. As I’ve paid a lot more attention to getting older (I’m not trying to, but its occurring anyway) I’ve read that this happens. As people get into their later years they become more and more turned inward. Well, I guess the gravity of aging is pulling me in.

As this has been unfolding I’ve begun to wonder about what’s going on, and why it might be happening with me? Why this particular development? Maybe it’s a movement towards a more balanced being. I’ve never focused much upon being internally aware. That seems plausible. I’ve never placed much emphasis upon inner life. I never meditated, prayed, or been particularly contemplative. Maybe, this is a skill I always had, that maybe I inherited from a relative. Could be, I guess, though no one comes to mind. I come from a line of very pragmatic farmers.

I’ve settled on the idea that this turn inward is a species thing more than a personal thing. I kind of like the idea that evolution has got my back. I think this is a widespread phenomenon that helps each of us become more of what we are meant to be. Just as I am going to die inevitably, I’m going to have some internal capacity to look at my life, with internal eyes, eyes that see things differently, and aid me in seeing more of the mystery of what’s going on here.

I now believe that nature endows us with an innate capacity for an internal awareness that comes on-line later in our lives, to assist us with integrating the experience we are having here. I’m sinking inwards as I age because that helps me become myself, more unique and free. It also increases the likelihood that I can make an original contribution to my community and to this existence.

The quicksand is life taking me inexorably home. An aspect of that movement, like tidal action, is inward. So, I’m slowly sinking in.

Existential Vulnerability by Lucky

There is a natural state, a kind of awareness that everyone experiences. This state, for good reason, is rarely described. I suppose the experience, though very common, is hard to capture with words. I know I feel daunted. The vulnerability that attends existence isn’t felt and experienced the same by everyone.  Words cannot convey fully what happens, or what it is like. In fact, there seems to be a deep ambivalence that attends the experience and protects one from it.

Regardless, of the natural limitations that make this part of being human so impossible to convey, I’m going to try to penetrate that ambivalence enough to refer to this facet of being alive. I know I cannot do more. For, although I think our shared existential vulnerability unites us, I am aware that what we commonly experience does not easily translate into words. The condition that animates us into existence, and attends to us throughout life, often evades us, precisely because of its power in our lives. There is a natural reticence that comes with a deep realization of how fragilely we are created. There is a state of paradoxical nakedness that accompanies each of us no matter how well dressed our station in life. The fact we are alive is so precious and so evanescent!

The vulnerability of existence, the knowledge that each of us is here, and that we did nothing to make it so, somehow sheers from us bravado, and reduces each of us into a quivering mass of meat. This experience underlies everything. Whether a banker, professor, miner, or street person with delusional thoughts, each can be reduced to that same steaming heap of dust. There is humility and a implacable justice that attends this leveling off. All are really nothing, and oddly and inexplicably something. This is the raw state we share.

Recently, I heard someone with a heart pacemaker describe waking up in the middle of the night, with irregular heartbeats, and wondering if this is the moment, the way she was going to die. I have reason to suspect that most of those reading these words have had their own moments like this. Everyone knows our time could end any moment and few of us live like that. I am writing about this, not because I think we should be trying to live out each moment with this awareness. I do.

What motivates my writing today is something quite different, I want to underscore the perpetual fragility of all of our lives. This aspect of what we all share, brings out the compassion in me, and most importantly, arouses awareness in me.  I share the same mysterious origin as others, I am related to them by virtue of the common mystery of our existence.

I find this fact of life compelling. Underneath all of the differences I seem to have with everyone there is this one commonality. We came from the same place. And we all are going back there. No matter who we are, or how well we think we’ve lived and loved, or honored any belief system, the truth seems to be, that we return from where we never really left. All of us, are bounded by the unknown.

Existence is so precarious, uncontrollable, and liberating, that it is a solace to me. It seems that there is a built-in sense of community in our shared sense of vulnerability. I can’t think of anything: ideology, religion, gender identification or not, money, social prestige, intelligence, or particular insight, that overrides.

Integration by Lucky

“The seat of the soul

is where the inner and the outer world meet.

 Where they overlap,

    it is in every point of overlap.”

                                      — Novalis

I don’t know why I dread writing this piece so much. It seems like the assertion of a naturally occurring kind of integrative process would be good news. The overlap, as Novalis says in his brief aphorism, is the “seat of the soul.” For me, the amazing thing is that Nature seems to be guiding us (by that I mean we humans) towards greater integration as we age, and an increased likelihood of achieving the overlap. That realization thrills me, but something else bothers me. I don’t know what it is.

First, I’ll start with the good news. Aging has an unexpected effect. My guess is that the integrative process, which I have come to see as the principle developmental and instinctual thrust of later life, has languished out of sight, because of the blindness of ageism, and the inability to break wisdom down. Nature, never-the-less, seems intent upon ripening human beings into a fuller expressions of themselves. The instinct of integration kicks in during later life in some unexpected ways. The productiveness of commercial and economic activity gives way to the productiveness of increasing uniqueness and becoming more fully oneself. The outside moves in. Creation seems to matter more, in the long run, than the economy.

Devaluing the old, devalues our own future. The human potential movement reveals just how ageist our culture is. The most experienced, most mature, and ripest of us (humans) have been ignored, and worse yet, mistreated. The present is dominated with either/or thinking of the worst sort, and doesn’t acknowledge the benefit of any form of integration. The overlap is not even a possibility in this kind of polarized world, at least not in our human-made world. Fortunately, Life has a larger agenda. Some people escape the gravitational pull of mass assumptions and become more. They are the true elders. Their lives reflect a kind of wisdom that comes from a higher order of integration.

I can fairly easily grasp the warm pleasure that permeates my body when I consider, and notice within, the compelling attraction of freedom and integrity. These by-products of integration have a gravitational pull of their own. But I notice I still feel some trepidation, an unnamed anxiety starts flooding my being, I feel like I’m walking more deeply into a minefield. There is something dangerous here. What could it be?

I’m not sure. It does occur to me, as I dwell on this uncertainty, that pointing out the natural flow towards integration might be construed as an attack upon the other, earlier in development, positions. Am I doing another version of what is so prevalent in this world? Am I saying that polarization is bad? No. I realize that one has to live fully through each stage, to ever even hope to get to anything like the big picture and actual integration. Aging is fraught with lots of difficulty. Not the least of these difficulties has to do with the question about how to hold the past?

It is so hard to talk about the full-range of human development without giving full and essential recognition to every stage in the process. Being human is all of it. There isn’t a point where one is more or less human. All stages are essential to becoming a full human. What does this mean? I don’t know, I’ve only recently begun to grapple with this picture. I thank God, I have lived long enough to actually see this much of the picture. It’s a marvelous vista I get to behold. But it’s a demanding one too.

For instance, I can see that we (humans) are complex. It obviously takes a while for us to unfold fully. And at each step in the process the world looks different and we become capable of different things. None of these developments is all of who we are capable of being. And all of those stages are favored by some, as the way it should be. Human history is full of conflict. Much of it has had to do with asserting the preeminence of one stage of human development (as embodied by a particular culture or individual) over another. I don’t want to add to that misdirected hostility. I’m not asserting that the aged perception is better, only that is different, and that it adds to the larger picture.

I think a big part of what it adds is the perspective gained from integration. Later life is about the coming together of seeming opposites. Inner and outer, as the poet Novalis points out, and also action and stillness, anger and peace, solitude and relationship confinement and freedom. These are seen as opposites, but can also be seen as single points, spaces on the spectrum that overlap. I think our ultimate ripeness is like that, the places were opposites overlap, places of integration. And, each stage in the ripening process adds to that integration.

This is delicate terrain. I can feel the Great Mystery at work. What I think I know, which comprises the discoveries I am uttering here, are my best attempts to give voice to what I couldn’t possibly know. Integration seems to include not knowing. I wonder if it includes the audacity of expressing what one doesn’t know?

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.