Growing Young Growing Old

Or is it perhaps "growing old growing young"?

“To grow young while growing old is the highest blessing.” ~ German proverb

“A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.” ~ John Barrymore

I spend long periods of time with my aging mother. Of course, the word "age" is in and of itself relative. I am in my sixties, and for some that would be considered old. My mother, who is in her eighties, however, is old to me. Being part of the process as well as observing the process causes me to ponder and ask questions. Do I have old thinking? Am I fearful of new ideas, new technology? Would I have been one of those people not too many years ago who was fearful of having electricity come into my home because I thought it was dangerous? Or perhaps someone who was afraid to use the telephone? Have I lost my enthusiasm for life, my lust, my zest? Am I content or am I complacent? Is there a difference?

I recommit to my desire to learn something new each day: to ask questions, to listen, to explore. This is not from a place of dissatisfaction but rather from my curiosity. I recommit to my love of adventure and my belief in magic.

I had a yoga teacher once who said the best way to keep balanced and steady on your feet is to practice each day standing first on one leg and then on the other. I practice this while standing in line at the bank or the grocery store. Of course, some people might think it wise to do this only in a place where you can catch yourself should you lose your balance. Rather than so quickly relying on a cane or being hesitant to walk freely, I choose to focus on building stamina and maintaining balance. Could the same reasoning and choice apply to my thinking? Am I willing to risk and stand on one leg, or do I quickly go to the security and familiarity of a mind crutch?

This wandering and pondering about aging has taken me to another place as well. My mother has dementia, or at least that is her diagnosis or the label placed on her experience. I know she has trouble remembering things—not all things, just some things. What I also know is that she more and more often shows me glimpses of the young girl she once was or perhaps still is. She is more silly and playful. She is more willing to do something fun and frivolous.

It was very rainy and cold yesterday when I went by for a visit. She wanted to go for a drive, and when I asked her what she wanted to do she quite quickly said she wanted to have ice cream. There was a hint of mischief in her request, a wink and a smile, as if we just might be scolded for such nonsense. We did it anyway.

Does "growing young growing old" perhaps have something to do with losing our memory by letting go of some of the rules? Can "growing young growing old" look like play? I don’t have the answers, but perhaps my mother knows something I don’t.

The best way to stay dry is to walk between the rain drops.

Ingrid

Ingrid Kincaid is an internationally known storyteller, teacher and spiritual mentor. She is an intuitive reader of ancient runes. She gently shows her clients how to tap into their own inner wisdom by weaving together creativity, spirituality and ancient knowing. Ingrid is available for interviews, private consultations and group presentations. You can contact her at ingk@ingridkincaid.com or 415.652.3990.