Winter of Life-not for Sissys Aged Learning

Talking with group of friends—my age—the conversation took a trip down memory lane, or perhaps down a rabbit hole, as we discussed physical activities. It’s funny how soon we get int stories about sprained ankles, landscaping things, and the mysterious we hear from our own bodies Certainly, as we age, there are adjustments and accommodations we need to make. I no longer get up on ladders (well… most of the time). I avoid hiking on trails with perilous footing, because I’ve learned gravity is no longer just a law—it’s a personal enemy. I do not run on the beach, and I rarely crawl on the floor. Things have changed, and my ability to do certain things changes a little every day. But none of this is new. From the minute I was born, I was learning to adapt and accommodate. I stayed on the floor until one day I discovered I could stand up—a miracle at the time, though now I sometimes wonder if staying on the floor might have been the wiser choice. Each part of my life has been about learning new activities and new adaptations We are born learning, and we learn until we leave life. The process of aging has a bad rap. It’s joked about, and older people are often ridiculed, ignored, or seen as someone slowing things down. (To be fair, sometimes we are slowing things down—but we’ve also learned that faster isn’t always better.) Yet aging is also a process of new experiences and—hopefully—common sense earned through trial, error, and the occasional near-disaster that we now look back on and laugh about. We may avoid rough trails, but we walk on the paths we choose, and now we notice what’s around us. We may not run on the beach anymore, but we stroll and feel the wind, watching things blowing in the sand We finally have time to see, feel, and hear the things we once hurried past—those years when we were racing home to cook dinner, quiet a crying child, or keep up with life and a busy family Back then, sunsets were something we glimpsed out of the corner of our eye. Now we stop, watch, and sometimes take a picture. This is the gift of aging: learning how to move again, differently and more deliberately. Discovering that wonder is still abundant if we simply stop long enough to look, listen, and linger. And seeing—perhaps with a smile—that life has not slowed us down as much; it has taught us to slow down and see life. \