But it was on the increase, just as the joy of the charioteer is wont to show itself more clearly when he is on the seventh round of the course, and nears the prize.
Indeed, he often said, in accord with the counsels of Epicurus:
“I hope, first of all, that there is no pain at the moment when a man breathes his last; but if there is, one will find an element of comfort in its very shortness. For no great pain lasts long.
“And at all events, a man will find relief at the very time when soul and body are being torn asunder, even though the process be accompanied by excruciating pain, in the thought that after this pain is over he can feel no more pain.
As a part of the common association between youth and vitality, we are also inclined to think of something old as if it were weak.
Yes, after a certain peak, the body will begin to slow down, and there is a gradual discovery, often fiercely denied and resisted, that we can’t do as much or go as far as we once could.
The mind can also lose some of its edge, especially in keenness and memory, which makes for both frustration and amusement.
How did I once cycle twenty miles a day? I can’t do that anymore. Juggling four or five different writing assignments at a time? Now I struggle my way through a single paragraph, desperately grabbing after the right words.
I should not be fooled, however, into believing that age is a shortcoming, for so many of our advantages and disadvantages are a matter of perspective. The young man may well be quick and resilient, yet this can easily make him careless and insensitive. The old man may well be slow and fragile, yet this can also make him deliberate and flexible. As with all our circumstances, the benefit or the harm come from how we manage to transform an obstacle into an opportunity.
I think it no accident how experience encourages sound judgment, such that the older man will not necessarily become wiser, though he has been given far more chances to learn his lessons. Perhaps Nature intends for our bodies to give way as our minds become more accustomed to a reflective calm.
How ironic that when I was able to rush about everywhere, I didn’t know where I was going, and now that I am finally acquiring a handful of insights, I no longer have the urge to live in a frenzy.
I regularly see old age being mocked or pitied, and though there is undoubtedly a decay on the outside, a closer examination can also reveal an incredible flourishing on the inside—is this what they mean by maturing and ripening?
Some wines go sour over the years, and some acquire whole new layers of flavor. Where the breadth isn’t so showy, a subtle depth takes root. As I have sat with elderly family and friends as they approached death, I have noticed an almost superhuman tenderness—even in those cases where their faculties were seriously impaired.
When and if I come to that point, I may understand more of it, and yet it is quite possible I will no longer possess the ability to describe it. I wonder if what Epicurus said points to some of those delicate qualities:
What pain can there now be in it? So much has already been nobly endured, and this last strain will pass soon.
If there is still anxiety, contemplate the abundance of relief that follows a final discomfort.
There is no need to make a great show of it, and going out with a big bang is vastly overrated. I now see more of the appeal in peacefully fizzling out over the crudity of being violently smothered.
Not sure if this is applicable, but helping to take care of/staying in touch with a couple elderly relatives of mine has really put certain things in perspective.
ReplyDeleteJust one example: My great grandmother was a successful business woman, won all sorts of awards for it. My mother has a charm bracelet of hers with solid gold charms marking certain awards and acknowledgements she received.
She died alone, estranged from her only daughter, with only her estranged daughter's ex-husband (who kept my mother away from her...long complicated messed up story) occasionally visiting, in a nursing home.
The most confusing thing is my great grandmother, before she lost most of her capabilities to dementia, still gave me a hard time (via a phone call with my mom) when I got pregnant with my first because she worried I was "too young" and should go out and do more and have a career first. She did that...and she died alone and largely neglected.
I really do think you reap what you sow, and that younger people should "sow" while in contact with the old. You learn a lot by watching someone at the end of the road you're on.
Thank you, extremely well put! We often get stuck in a rut, and so age will readily lose or bind based upon where we started all those years ago. When Seneca advises young Lucilius to learn from the old, that surely includes both positive and negative lessons. It is sad to see the young making mistakes, far sadder to see the elderly persisting in them. I hope to be more like a Bassus if I ever get that old!
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