Mentors Appear on Time
It would be three more years before I actually retired. During that time, as if in response to my new quest to find the good in elderhood, mentors began to appear, at the right time to prepare me for the journey to come.
Ram Dass was a pioneer. He was older than me and had preceded me in experiencing psychedelic drugs and in finding a guru in India in the 1960’s. He became disabled and an elder before I did too. “Still Here, Embracing Aging, Changing and Dying” arrived in my life about the same time that Marilyn had asked me the question, “What’s the good in elderhood?” Before finishing his book, Ram Dass had a major stroke. His words affirmed my own beliefs and I read them to Marilyn and our group.
“In this youth oriented culture, aging is a profound source of suffering, and that is what I was responding to when I decided to turn my attention to conscious aging workshops and to writing this book.”
“Getting old isn’t easy for a lot of us. Neither is living, neither is dying. We struggle against the inevitable and we all suffer because of it. We have to find another way to look at the whole process of being born, growing old, changing, and dying, some kind of perspective that might allow us to deal with what we perceive as big obstacles without having to be dragged through the drama. It really helps to understand that we have something- that we are something -which is unchangeable, beautiful, completely aware, and continues no matter what. Knowing this doesn’t solve everything- that is what I encountered in Be Here Now, and I’ve still had my share of suffering. But the perspective of the soul can help a lot with the little things, and it is my hope that you will be able to take from this book some joy in being “still here.”
“ After any major physical “insult,” as they call it, it’s all too easy to see yourself as a collection of symptoms rather than as a total human being, including your spirit and thus to become your illness. Fear is powerful and contagious, and at first, I allowed myself to catch it, worried that if I didn’t do what the doctors ordered, I’d be sorry. But now, I am learning to take my healing into my own hands. Healing is not the same as curing, after all; healing does not mean going back to the way things were before, but rather allowing what is now to move us closer to God.” ~Ram Dass
About the same time, Eckhart Tolle’s first book, The Power of Now, A guide to Spiritual Enlightenment came to my attention. Tolle was younger than me. What he wrote about was new and transformative. I brought it to Marilyn’s group too and soon Marilyn and others had their own copies. We were all learning and it would not be the last time Tolle’s teachings became important in my life.
A year before I retired, at a manager’s training session in Minnesota, we were asked to think about what we wanted to be in the future. It was clear to me even then that I wanted to be a wise old woman.
One day, I realized for the first time that I was the oldest person in the company. The last few years had taken their toll on my health. I was increasingly disabled by COPD and then breast cancer. It was more and more difficult to handle the stresses of change and increasing responsibilities at work. My widowed father needed more and more care. I began to check off the things I knew I would never be able do in this lifetime. I would never go hang gliding. I wasn’t going to make my high school reunion back east. I wasn’t going to fly east or south with the company any more. I wouldn’t be lifting boxes, or climbing stairs. I wasn’t going to go out when it was too hot or too cold. I started using oxygen and prednisone 24/7. I could see where this was going.
I began to teach coworkers how to get my job done in my absence. I discussed transferring Dad’s care from me to my sister Lani and my brother Lowry. I arranged with my son, Michael to help me with the housework, yard work and transporting my father to appointments. I was waiting for the inevitable; I just didn’t know how or when it would happen.
I found sources of support: a COPD group online where others would share their knowledge and give me encouragement and Eden Hospital’s cancer support group where I met Peggy who became my friend and showed me how to die.
I had been a long time follower of Gene Rodenberry’s “Star Trek, the Next Generation.” In the episode “Remember Me” Wesley Crusher accidentally sends Dr. Crusher into an alternate Starship Enterprise. As she explores the ship looking for the way out, she realizes that ahead of her, the ship is disappearing! She turns back and runs away from the disappearing. She runs and runs while the ship disappears behind her. Finally she gets back to the room where she had entered the alternative ship. There is a rip in the side of the Enterprise where there is a terrifying vortex of energy. At the last minute, in desperation, before being overtaken by the disappearing ship, she dives through the vortex and finds herself back on the real Enterprise where she belongs.
I had strongly identified with Dr. Crusher in this episode. I too had been running, trying to get everything done before my disability caught up with me. I too was feeling fear of the danger ahead.
Then in October, the company decided to close the warehouse where I was located. At last, I could actually start giving away my workload. I could detach.
I never wanted to stop working. I liked being fully engaged and enjoyed the challenge. I had planned to work until I died, but I had become too sick and tired and burned out. I asked my doctor, “Am I disabled enough to get disability? He laughed! It seems I had been disabled enough for a long time. It really had been up to me whether I wanted to push myself beyond my capacity any longer. But, I had reached the end of my energy. I just couldn’t do it anymore and I finally had to let go.
Soon, I began to hear Joan Baez’s voice singing “All my trials, Lord, soon be over” in the back of my mind. I could feel freedom coming.
In November my father died.
December 5, 2003 was the last day I worked. For me, it was the end of the stage of life called adulthood.
