The Pleasures of Being an Elder

Things I've Learned About at 78-years old

• It's okay not be right. To respond, "I don't know" is perfectly acceptable.
• It's okay to DO: not necessarily for the approval of others, or money, but because it feels good.
• I eat less meat, less sugar, drink less alcohol. But eat more organic vegetables.
• It's easier to be generous with my words of praise toward others. There's never loss when uplifting another.
• I provide myself more moments of stillness for meditation, processing and appreciation. It is easier to be present.
• I can alter my perception of time and mindful to prioritize the use of my time. I'm more willing to let go of items on my daily "to do" lists.
• The successfulness of my life is measured by how I show up for myself and others rather than through material possessions.
• I invite in only those actions, people, words, and images that enrich my spiritual base, health and overall well-being.
• It's okay to forget. Especially since I live with someone who remembers.
• I listen more and speak less. Sometimes the most powerful thing I can say remains unsaid.
• Forgiveness of myself and others comes easy. Making mistakes in life is human and essential to growth. I'm more likely to accept what I cannot change.
• I choose to live in the little joys of everyday life.
• The ability to endure pain is human. It's possible to have a constructive relationship with pain-it can be a gateway to opportunity. Physical pain can be lessened by refocusing on pleasure, guided imagery, and directed energy movement. The magic of cannabis and mushrooms can, at times, be a medicine for opening and healing.
• I am sound in my resilience and my ability to repair and recover. Most wounds can heal.
• I allow for 'wonder' and truth to show up in my life.
• My life is enriched more with intangibles than things. Acquiring more of anything is of less interest.
• I read more, write more, stress less.
• Multi-tasking is more difficult and less enjoyable.
• I spend more time with fewer people.
• I have enough clothes. Letting go of some. I'm still wearing thirty-year-old favorite shirts and don't much care if others see me in the same clothes over, and over again. But when my wife says to me, "You're NOT going to town in that," I change.
• I tolerate my increased hearing loss. When speaking with others I look more at people's mouths, versus their eyes, to compensate. I'm now accustomed to asking my wife to repeat her words-even if she is muttering to herself.
• I'm unable to retrieve the time not shared with my children when they were young. I can only be present for them.
• I'm a better lover now than in my youth. In my ongoing, almost ever-present service to my ageless wife, I allow for new adventures in our partnership to occur moment to moment. Any sex shared is the best sex enjoyed. And more important than sex is sharing humor and intimate conversation. It is easier to fall in love, to be in love, in the daily course my marriage. I'm dancing more with my wife in the kitchen. I've discovered that her beauty is mine to fully enjoy, all the time, just by choosing it to be so.
• I no longer climb trees, clean roof gutters, paddle my canoe into storms, hold a grudge or resentment.
• I can enjoy touring the world on a stationary bike or within a good book. But I still prefer driving roads less traveled.
• I am always my word. Never sloppy with a promise or commitment. I enjoy the integrity of who I am as an elder.

In 2020 our granddaughter Sage joined me in an impromptu dance as we finished the day's harvest. I was tired and in pain. I had difficulty walking with two bad knees and spinal problems. I wanted to quit for the day...but then the music started, and the pain was danced away. This was an incredibly joyful experience to bathe in the wake of her spontaneous, natural exuberance.

In 2022, with new knees and less pain I wanted to walk with Sage after the day's harvesting between the rows of our tomatoes and asked Dagma to get a photo of us together. As I held her hand and started walking, Dagma, behind us, pulled out her iPhone and played Louis Armstrong singing Disney's "Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah," a song I used to sing to my children when they were young. And then I invited Sage to walk with some rhythm in the field as I talked to her of some of our history as tomato farmers.

Introducing our children and grandchildren to the annual dance of growing healthy food for ourselves' and others, and the ceremony of becoming responsible stewards of the Earth, is a poignant and powerful experience that we, as parents, as organic farmers, treasure.

On the wings of another sunset past
You fly over our field of heirloom tomatoes
On car-window's edge
Summer's wind in your hair
To the music of Neil Young's 'Harvest Moon,'
Turned up to be heard by tomato plants afar
And lovers present.

"Come a little bit closer Hear what I have to say...,"
Can you see them dancing in the garden
In the moonlight rising
As another day gives way.
Your mother and your father,
Your Omi and Papa G.?

Let me be your chariot.
Your inspiration toward another day
Of making music, art and even
Tomato foods after harvesting.
Can you smell the sweet fragrance
Of a summer's end
Caught up in the waving of your hair
And floral cotton dress?
You are the daughter of mermaids, sea-serpents,
Surfers and gardeners.
You are destined to
Transform this world toward a loving, safe place
For joyful play,
With just a smile, thought or word.
You are destined to be plentiful with your love -
Your life.