The Loom of Lachesis, Vol. 7, Book 7, Chapter 2
Reflections in a Temporal Life - Aging: What is it Good For? Words Matter.
But I am thinking that a philosophy of aging should have a clear and robust discussion of the awareness of death and dying, and that we share with each other our thoughts – I, Consciousness – regarding the prospect of when consciousness is no more – and nevermore.
In other words, does anyone {authentically} talk about aging anymore? At first, the question seems absurd. Because the first inclination is to respond with, “Are you kidding me? This is what old people talk about all the time – their own aging – to the point of obsession, to the full extent that nothing else seems to matter.”
But if we dig deeper, I think the aged skate right over the topic of aging. Meaning: if we put aside the granular and glandular emphasis (actually a hyper-focus) in geriatrics and gerontology, and the conversations in senior centers, retirement communities, social groups, and among our older family members and friends…what is left? In addition to the usual suspects of macro-level programs that provide “benefits” (e.g., Social Security and Medicare) and the attendant political gymnastics, the world of the older adult is then under the microscope with the health professions (e.g., the medical model) and the topic has a tendency to drift toward an “organ recital” (which I admit the term is bloated with ageism) in terms of what has gone wrong with the body system this week?
My point here is that a conversation, a dialogue, a reflection, an awareness of aging must scope out and examine later life beyond the physiological, beyond the etiology of cellular aging, and beyond the morphological and functional “impairments” of aging. And again…what is left? Well, let’s talk about the children and grandchildren! Okay, fine, but let’s go deeper for the individual – you the person who is aging – the full Monty – the whole damn thing…. including the meaning of old age.
And then let’s go further: What is important to aging adults? What is the nature of old age? How is old age experienced by those living it? Good questions for a philosophy of aging, and it turns out that the research team of Pardo, Russo, and Sanchez (2018) asked those questions in their research, which used a hermeneutical phenomenological approach inspired by Paul Ricouer’s theory of text interpretation. I will unpack that.
This is gathering the words of the aging person in text an in interviews and then analyzing the content (a nice hybrid of explanation and understanding) for meaning based on the interactions (the discourse) between the participants and researcher. This process (in my mind) is akin to the very effort undertaken in these essays: a refiguring (via Ricouer) – a transformation of the lived experience through narrative – through this text, these words. Pardo et al discovered three major themes in their analyses:
1) Reaching advanced age with changes;
2) A long life brings experience; and,
3) The awareness of death.
The awareness of death. This awareness served as a benchmark to begin to take stock of the long arc of the lived experience. This is an accounting experience to see what the life project has amounted to. And this can be expressed in text or verbal constructions. Will there be wisdom to be gathered from such a process? It is uncertain, but there is great potential.
For me, I see the process of meaning as a refiguring of the consciousness that we have created, or made, or have contemplated in the later years – knowing that time is finite. But then again time is of the essence. In a similar vein, Leland (2018) noted that the older adults he interviewed for his book, Happiness is a Choice We Make, were making a conscious choice to transcend material concerns (and other superficial issues) and instead focus on “what’s really valuable.” And why? One of the reasons has to do with the premium placed on the time a person has left in their life. Leland noted that a shortened time perspective has way of “wiping away petty distractions.” It is interesting to highlight that Leland proposed that a “starting point for wisdom at any age might be to accept that you’re going to die – really accept it – and to feel more contented by the limits, not less” (p. 45). It seems to me that, because death is ineluctable (none of us will get out of here alive), this certainly serves as catalyst and antidote to procrastination and sloth. You go with you got – and get going. Tempus fugit.
In my mind, one writer who interacted with the ineluctable (and the earnestness) – the inevitability of death was Walt Whitman, who many would see as full of life, but the illumination of life was framed against the context of the enigma of death that was revealed to Whitman via the American Civil War years, (see Drum-Taps) and with Abraham Lincoln’s death (see "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd”). Celebrate life with Leaves of Grass – and yet feel the constant backdrop of death as existential reference point. Read Song of Myself – and know the “I” of consciousness (and if you wish, have this playing in the background or via headphones while you read: Lisa Gerrard & Patrick Cassidy’s, - ‘Amergin’s Invocation’ to enhance the effect).
So I have a frame of reference in order to act – to write. Kairos. Now is the time to gather the harvest of your long journey and share it (in my case – via the narrative – this text) with those who may benefit into the future. But why? Why not write it all out – and then bury it? Or write it all out, create a big pile of papers and burn it. I see the possibility, but I cannot imagine Virgil wanting to burn The Aeneid – on his deathbed! A bonfire of the vanities. Type it all out, save it to the cloud and a whopper hard drive – but then delete all – permanently. Gone. Nothing for posterity. Legacy? Nah.
And yet, while that may seem heroic, and the ultimate expression of the artist (art for art’s sake), and keeping in the spirit of sans everything – mere oblivion – full of sound and fury and signifying nothing…Shakespeare’s words carry on. Hamlet is still here. Words matter and what are we to make of François-René de Chateaubriand’s, Memoirs from Beyond the Grave? (one full-on version goes to about 2,500 pages, but see recent version from NYRB Classics, 2018).
Or Marcel Proust with À la recherche du temps perdu?
Or Robert Musil’s, The Man Without Qualities?
Or Vladimir Nabokov’s, Speak, Memory? (Everyman’s Edition, 1999)
Portraits of each painter. Tapestries by each weaver. Storyboards by each film director.
Each author with the creative endeavor to write about – and for - the long arc of life – and then consciousness left standing as an open book for others read – or not.
To be read or not to be read – but that is not even the question. Words are created and written down for either the entire cosmos…or the few shadows are left on the shortest day of winter.
What do you care what other people think? Tell your story and let the chips fall where they may.