"During my long life, I have learned one lesson: that the most important thing is to realize why one is alive----and i think it is not only to build bridges or tall buildings or make money, but to do something for humanity. To bring joy, hope, to make life richer for the spirit because you have been alive, that is the most important thing." Musician Arthur Rubinstein
[This topic is one that Jenny and I will want to share about from time to time in this space.]
To know why we are alive is a great gift--to ourselves and others. To be able to go to bed at night and feel like we have been purposeful brings joy to our life and a sense of meaning. And this does not necessarily have to be on a grand scale, either. It can be as simple as a exemplifying a quality we want to see more of in the world (ie love, laughter, compassion) or as grand as contributing to world peace or eliminating hunger. Having a purpose is like having a "life compass". It is a powerful tool!
Purpose keeps us in alignment with who we really are, our values and dreams for humanity. It helps us make choices every day for how we will spend our time, money and life energy. Purpose also points us in a direction so we find or attract like-minded people who want to support our life and us as individuals.
Intentional aging brings a commitment to develop ourselves throughout the entire life span and letting our purpose or passion guide our choices is a powerful way to "make life richer for the spirit".
Welcome!
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
wet and windblown
December 2, 2009
7:30-8:40 a.m.
Just in case we needed more direct evidence of the power (and necessity!) of collaboration, let me acknowledge that my dear friend and colleague David has been holding down the fort single-handedly for the past several weeks. You may not have noticed that I’ve been missing from the Intentional Aging Collective for awhile, but I have noticed that I’ve been missing, and I’ve sure felt my absence, and quite acutely! Since September when we launched this space, I’ve grown accustomed to the sweet pleasure of having a place to engage in ongoing conversations about our shared journey of traveling through this strange life together and our exquisite potential for deep development.
Lest you think I’ve had a dry period in terms of intentional aging inspiration, in fact the opposite is true—I’ve had a rainy period, a deluge of experiences. If you’ve seen me lately you know I’m all wet and windblown (I’m pretty sure when Tash dropped by my office yesterday and witnessed me trying to return voicemail messages in between an endless string of meetings, she noticed my eyes were spinning and I was rather disheveled.).
As I write this posting, I’m doing so in small segments as I race around getting the morning started—dog to walk in the full-moon dawn, lunches to make, clothes to iron, fifteen minutes (not enough!) of meditation, teenager to wake up three times and invite gently into the day…once I get started writing, I don’t want to stop, I don’t want to be interrupted by these “mundane” activities! Not to mention that today is not a day (no day is for me) to be running late—so many meetings to attend once I arrive at the university. Bad combination—being possessed by the muse on a day when there’s little time to entertain her!
My daughter is up now and wondering if she could have the cup of tea I said I was making for her over fifteen minutes ago. (As I make her belated cup of tea I remind myself that part of the commitment to learning to live intentionally is to be mindful of where we are and what we are doing!) Okay—more later.
_______________
11:50 while eating my lunch in my office:
I’ve started many postings in my little brain – some that were might have had some potential – but time and energy, the stuff of this universe, have been in short supply for me recently, and so getting the ideas out of my brain on onto the blog has seemed impossible.
Some days recently it has been all I could do to get out of bed as my chronic intestinal condition has been so painful. Some days recently it has been all I could do to do anything besides sit on the couch next to my daughter, who was swooning with a high fever from the swine flu. Some days recently I have felt so heavy with worry for my mommy that my brain has seemed to shut down temporarily.
Also in recent days – early this morning, in fact – I've experienced moments of such staggering beauty, the profound, fleeting thrill of being aware of my present experience: watching the blue heron rise from the cold stream and fly off in a big arc, first to the north, then looping around to the south-west; glimpsing my daughter’s sleepy face as she emerged from bed; acknowledging to my dog as he follows me around the house after our walk and his breakfast that he is a brilliant creature and that I, too, enjoyed our time together; admiring my new haircut, the way my the streaks of silver in my dark hair are almost all the way grown in; noticing while sitting in a two-hour meeting how varied and lovely my colleagues are in mind, body and spirit.
So, that’s what I got to say for today, and maybe also for tomorrow and the next day. And any way, it is almost time for the next meeting!
Hope you are all well and enjoying whatever moment you are in.
--Jenny
7:30-8:40 a.m.
Just in case we needed more direct evidence of the power (and necessity!) of collaboration, let me acknowledge that my dear friend and colleague David has been holding down the fort single-handedly for the past several weeks. You may not have noticed that I’ve been missing from the Intentional Aging Collective for awhile, but I have noticed that I’ve been missing, and I’ve sure felt my absence, and quite acutely! Since September when we launched this space, I’ve grown accustomed to the sweet pleasure of having a place to engage in ongoing conversations about our shared journey of traveling through this strange life together and our exquisite potential for deep development.
Lest you think I’ve had a dry period in terms of intentional aging inspiration, in fact the opposite is true—I’ve had a rainy period, a deluge of experiences. If you’ve seen me lately you know I’m all wet and windblown (I’m pretty sure when Tash dropped by my office yesterday and witnessed me trying to return voicemail messages in between an endless string of meetings, she noticed my eyes were spinning and I was rather disheveled.).
As I write this posting, I’m doing so in small segments as I race around getting the morning started—dog to walk in the full-moon dawn, lunches to make, clothes to iron, fifteen minutes (not enough!) of meditation, teenager to wake up three times and invite gently into the day…once I get started writing, I don’t want to stop, I don’t want to be interrupted by these “mundane” activities! Not to mention that today is not a day (no day is for me) to be running late—so many meetings to attend once I arrive at the university. Bad combination—being possessed by the muse on a day when there’s little time to entertain her!
My daughter is up now and wondering if she could have the cup of tea I said I was making for her over fifteen minutes ago. (As I make her belated cup of tea I remind myself that part of the commitment to learning to live intentionally is to be mindful of where we are and what we are doing!) Okay—more later.
_______________
11:50 while eating my lunch in my office:
I’ve started many postings in my little brain – some that were might have had some potential – but time and energy, the stuff of this universe, have been in short supply for me recently, and so getting the ideas out of my brain on onto the blog has seemed impossible.
Some days recently it has been all I could do to get out of bed as my chronic intestinal condition has been so painful. Some days recently it has been all I could do to do anything besides sit on the couch next to my daughter, who was swooning with a high fever from the swine flu. Some days recently I have felt so heavy with worry for my mommy that my brain has seemed to shut down temporarily.
Also in recent days – early this morning, in fact – I've experienced moments of such staggering beauty, the profound, fleeting thrill of being aware of my present experience: watching the blue heron rise from the cold stream and fly off in a big arc, first to the north, then looping around to the south-west; glimpsing my daughter’s sleepy face as she emerged from bed; acknowledging to my dog as he follows me around the house after our walk and his breakfast that he is a brilliant creature and that I, too, enjoyed our time together; admiring my new haircut, the way my the streaks of silver in my dark hair are almost all the way grown in; noticing while sitting in a two-hour meeting how varied and lovely my colleagues are in mind, body and spirit.
So, that’s what I got to say for today, and maybe also for tomorrow and the next day. And any way, it is almost time for the next meeting!
Hope you are all well and enjoying whatever moment you are in.
--Jenny
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sense of Place
"As we move into the second half of life, we inevitably confront the question "Where in the world do I belong?" Changes in relationships, work, and physical health naturally precipitate the need to reconsider our sense of place. And this means both our external place--where we live--as well as a more internal sense---where and to whom do I really belong. Fortunately, the second half can provide us with a unique opportunity for renewal; we cannot avoid the freedom to choose whether we stay, grow, or die." Richard Leider and David Shapiro; Claiming Your Place At the Fire
I am intrigued by the question that Leider and Shapiro pose above: "Where in the world do I belong?" In my retirement coaching practice I notice that this is usually the question that stymies and confuses many clients. Especially the implied second part "To whom do I belong?" Finding and creating a network of people who support our life and our continued personal, spiritual and psychological development is just as important as finding the correct address.
However, if it were just a matter of finding a specific place, our task would be easy. We might choose a place that is warm or near our favorite recreational opportunities or close to family. We might choose a place close to a major airport so we can easily travel or live in a city for the urban amenities. But "home" is more than the physical place. And as Leider/Shapiro say, the warm climate that we feel on the outside might just be masking a coldness inside.
A real sense of "home" involves more than just physical comfort. Having a sense that we matter in other people's lives and that we can be seen and supported for who we really are plays a bigger role in knowing where in the world we belong. Are there opportunities to be in-service to others and to do my inner exploration? Do I have people in my life who support me just as I am for who I am? Are there plenty of opportunities and resources to develop a new calling?
If you like, as someone interested in aging intentionally, sit down with your loved ones or friends and inquire about what is it about your sense of place that would make you feel most supported or at home? This is a great jumping off point for answering "Where in the world do I belong?"
I am intrigued by the question that Leider and Shapiro pose above: "Where in the world do I belong?" In my retirement coaching practice I notice that this is usually the question that stymies and confuses many clients. Especially the implied second part "To whom do I belong?" Finding and creating a network of people who support our life and our continued personal, spiritual and psychological development is just as important as finding the correct address.
However, if it were just a matter of finding a specific place, our task would be easy. We might choose a place that is warm or near our favorite recreational opportunities or close to family. We might choose a place close to a major airport so we can easily travel or live in a city for the urban amenities. But "home" is more than the physical place. And as Leider/Shapiro say, the warm climate that we feel on the outside might just be masking a coldness inside.
A real sense of "home" involves more than just physical comfort. Having a sense that we matter in other people's lives and that we can be seen and supported for who we really are plays a bigger role in knowing where in the world we belong. Are there opportunities to be in-service to others and to do my inner exploration? Do I have people in my life who support me just as I am for who I am? Are there plenty of opportunities and resources to develop a new calling?
If you like, as someone interested in aging intentionally, sit down with your loved ones or friends and inquire about what is it about your sense of place that would make you feel most supported or at home? This is a great jumping off point for answering "Where in the world do I belong?"
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Creative Aging Pioneer Passes
As I get ready to attend the 3rd Annual Positive Aging Conference I am thinking about Dr. Gene Cohen one of the loudest proponents of aging creatively in the world. Here is an article from the Washington Post (edited for brevity):
Gene D. Cohen, an impish geriatric psychiatrist who championed the idea that people past retirement age have untapped stores of creativity and intellectually rigorous skills in their later years, died Nov. 7 of prostate cancer at age 65.
"The magic bullets are all blanks," he said in 1998, advising people to rely on "intellectual sweating" instead of pills and herbs for good mental health. "Make it a point to learn something new, instead of turning to hormones or ginkgo biloba."
Although the medical establishment tended to treat aging as a disease when he started his career, Dr. Cohen found that the later adult years can be a time of great creativity. Brains create new brain cells as long as people are encouraged to keep trying new pursuits, he reported, and people in the traditional retirement years have almost limitless capacity for intellectual growth.
"He wanted to move the paradigm from a focus on problems to a focus on potentials," said Gay Hanna, executive director of the National Center for Creative Aging.
Among his many research projects, a 2002 study showed that those who engaged in the arts late in life had fewer illnesses and injuries and more independence. Dr. Cohen, as a former federal employee with an eye on the looming national health-care debate, reported that arts programs also appeared to reduce "risk factors that drive the need for long-term care."
"Single-handedly he changed the image of aging from a period of senescence to a period of creativity," said Dr. Walter Reich, professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at George Washington University.
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Wielding a light saber at his lectures, with a cherubic face surrounded by untamed curls, Dr. Cohen sought to re-introduce fun to those suffering from physical ailments and provide a way for younger family members to engage with those whom he considered "keepers of the culture."
Gene D. Cohen, an impish geriatric psychiatrist who championed the idea that people past retirement age have untapped stores of creativity and intellectually rigorous skills in their later years, died Nov. 7 of prostate cancer at age 65.
"The magic bullets are all blanks," he said in 1998, advising people to rely on "intellectual sweating" instead of pills and herbs for good mental health. "Make it a point to learn something new, instead of turning to hormones or ginkgo biloba."
Although the medical establishment tended to treat aging as a disease when he started his career, Dr. Cohen found that the later adult years can be a time of great creativity. Brains create new brain cells as long as people are encouraged to keep trying new pursuits, he reported, and people in the traditional retirement years have almost limitless capacity for intellectual growth.
"He wanted to move the paradigm from a focus on problems to a focus on potentials," said Gay Hanna, executive director of the National Center for Creative Aging.
Among his many research projects, a 2002 study showed that those who engaged in the arts late in life had fewer illnesses and injuries and more independence. Dr. Cohen, as a former federal employee with an eye on the looming national health-care debate, reported that arts programs also appeared to reduce "risk factors that drive the need for long-term care."
"Single-handedly he changed the image of aging from a period of senescence to a period of creativity," said Dr. Walter Reich, professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at George Washington University.
ad_icon
Wielding a light saber at his lectures, with a cherubic face surrounded by untamed curls, Dr. Cohen sought to re-introduce fun to those suffering from physical ailments and provide a way for younger family members to engage with those whom he considered "keepers of the culture."
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