How difficult is it to be authentic when you don’t know who you are? It’s a strange mix. That’s my answer. And the older I get, the stranger it seems.
A part of me feels liberated as I spend more time “in the moment,” trying to get to, as Eckhart Tolle calls it, “the divine presence.” Enjoying parts of my day when I’m not ruminating but focusing on the now allows me to break free of mindless chatter I’ve always used to identify with. However, it leaves an undefined, open space that I’m not yet comfortable with.
Being at odds with others also makes it difficult to know who I am. I see myself one way; they see me another. Who’s right? Does it matter? Am I a combination of both? Perhaps I’m neither but something much deeper. (I tend to think the latter.) So if I haven’t tapped into that self yet, am I still authentic?
What really makes the situation hard for me is my age. It’s not because I can’t accept being in my mid-sixties. It’s because I feel as though I’m aging on the fly. For a woman who wanted retirement to be the most sacred time of her life, everything seems cast to the wind with no control and little direction. It’s lonely and sometimes sad. What makes it especially so is the little regard our society holds for the elderly.
Therein, however, could lie a majestic gift to me and other seniors who are willing to take a risk. By going against the norm, we could help redefine growing old. By swimming against the tide—an exhausting proposition—we could have more satisfying relationships, gain greater peace and wisdom, develop a cosmic and transcendent worldview, develop a deeper understanding of ourselves, live more fully and with authenticity.
I look around me and, for the most part, see very few role models to emulate. Perhaps I’m not looking hard enough or in the right places, but where are the like-minded souls yearning for and seeking out a deeper connection to the universe? Our chance to make that connection grows shorter every day, so why don’t I sense more urgency and dedication in the aging population?
A very senior member of my extended family says to me, “You don’t want to grow old.” I understand where she’s coming from, dealing with chronic pain and depression, but what message is she giving me? I should hope to die young?
Rather, I want to live as long as possible (my husband by my side) with courage and grace. I want to be able to say, wholeheartedly, that I don’t fear death. I want to laugh a lot, spend more time than not in the moment, surround myself with like-minded individuals, accept more readily the mystery of life, and learn what it’s like to feel truly authentic as part of the divine presence.