Aging is stressful.
We began by discussing suffering from the aspect of an aging brain as a peculiar form of Dukkha, the Pali word that Buddha used as he began teaching his first five followers. It is clear that life is stressful, and many of the stresses of life are intensified with aging. When Shunryu Suzuki ( a Japanese Zen priest, the first abbot of the San Francisco Zen Center, author of Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind ) was asked why we should meditate, he said, “In order to enjoy our old age.” I understand that to mean that if we invest a little time and energy learning to let go, old age will not be so stressful. If we let go a lot, our suffering will likewise be reduced to a larger degree.
One of the challenges of aging is discovering how our full memory banks require more time and patience to access what we intend to say or think. This morning I awoke with the impulse to schedule a time to walk with a friend. I determined to send him an email as soon as I opened my computer. Lying in bed I could not recall his name. Immediately fear and irritation arose. “Why can’t I think of his name? I must be losing my memory.”
But I paused and decided to change this negative talk, and started breathing into my memories of other walks with my friend. Instead of trying to remember his name, I breathed into the pleasant memories that spontaneously arose picturing his face and the places we walked. Irritation returned as I realized his name was not coming. How can I send him an email without remembering his name. More breath. More waiting. A little self-compassion for a brain with such a large rolodex of pleasant memories. Still no name.
Gradually I began to hear the name ‘Phil’ arise, but I knew that was wrong. I set Phil aside, but it returned again and again. More irritation. Rising impatience. How long will this game last? Then I recalled other incidents when the name I was looking for returned later when I least expected it. There was no solace in that thought. I wanted to remember NOW. More breath. Using Thich Nhat Hahn’s gatha, “Calm” on the inhale, “Ease” on the exhale. More waiting.
I suddenly remembered a second friend who often asks about my first friend. David’s face came into my memory and I heard his voice kindly asking, “How’s Tom doing.” Suddenly I had it, but there was still a feeling of dissatisfaction and irritation. I glimpsed myself looking through my email contacts for “Tom” and failing to find the correct name. Then I smiled. My friend spells his name “Thom,” not “Tom.” I needed to include the silent “h” to find the right address to send the email. When I realized that my earlier attempt to retrieve his name had turned up “Phil,” I saw that the second letter in the wrong name was also “h.” I had filed Thom’s name in a category of unusual four letter names, names with silent “h” near the beginning.
Instead of feeling irritation at my failing memory, I smiled at the richness of the fabric of my memories. I could let go of my irritation and fear. It was silly to bemoan the speed of retrieval when the patterns of associations were so interesting. Instead of leaping to the conclusion that my memory was “going,” I was able to pause and breath into a new insight about the way our neurons wire together. The pleasant memory of David asking after Thom was a joyful connection that brought more delightful memories forward, but I needed to pause and let compassionate breathing unlock the mystery. Finally I noticed a feeling of gratitude for the rich fabric of friends woven into my life. Instead of irritation and despair, Mindfulness practice opened me up to joy and gratitude.
The stress had arisen because of the fact that my left brain speed is slower than I remember it, and I am attached to the memory of who I was in the past. How can breath into acceptance of the way things are? I cling to a deep impulse for certainty and impermanence. I want my former speed of remembering to be sustained indefinitely into the future. But that is not the way things are. When I breathe into the reality of this aging brain, new mysteries arise that I never conceived. Retrieving memories need not be stressful; they can result in pleasant delight in the complexity of the brain. But the mindful pause for the breath is significant. Compassionate breathing into the whole of the memory banks allows for new creativity, new wiring to take place. What fires together, wires together. Allowing the irritation and fear to dissolve, new pathways, pathways of acceptance and joy have been built. Accepting those new pathways is actually much easier than struggling with old patterns and grasping. Renunciation is a relief, not a reluctant loss.
Last post I wrote, “Aging is a lifelong futile grasping for certainty, permanence and immortality.” Perhaps this description of the second truth is not so ennobling in its current phrasing. How can I re-phrase this truth to resonate more with the mystery and creativity of everyday experience? Maybe tomorrow I will make another attempt…
mindfulmentorjim 