Time truly is relative and sometimes it moves both slowly and quickly in the same moment. We tend not to think much about time when we are young. It feels as though the possibilities of the world are at our calling and we will have decades to enjoy our lives in full measure. Then suddenly we are adults working to find ways of keeping ourselves alive and hoping that our choices are meaningful and exciting. If we are lucky our days will be measured with more joy than sorrow.
We tend to believe that we have a long way to go but that is not always the case. If we do survive the day will come when we leave our jobs to retire either because we no longer have the energy for our labors or we have planned for a time of slowing down and focusing on hobbies or travel or just rest. We never know how long the final sojourn will last. Some of us meet the endings of our lives rather quickly. Others continue on for decades. All along the way time is ticking and we are doing our very best to make the most of the hours and days and weeks and months and years that we have. None of us ever know what our share of time will be.
I have always been a compulsive worker. I find it quite difficult to just be a slug, someone who goes from day to day without a plan for filling the hours with activities that make a difference in my life or the life of someone else. I need to feel that I am always learning something new, always contributing to the welfare of my family, my neighborhood, my world. I love vacations but view them as brief interludes between the times when I continue to be a productive person. I get anxious when I spend too much time not accomplishing tasks and goals.
I have been generally blessed with good health. The times that I have been sick have been so few that I vividly remember them. I’ve only been to an emergency room once and my visits to a hospital don’t even account for all five of my fingers on a single hand. I have been fortunate in that regard because it has allowed me to feed my need to be constantly active. The choices that I make for filling each day with purpose have kept me busy and happy, but as the years go by I begin to worry that one day I will no longer feel relevant only because my body and my mind will fail me. So I rush and push to do as much as I can, even as I understand that at any moment everything might change regardless of my age.
We all have to be ready to adapt and that is one of the greatest challenges of life. While I would prefer growing old like my Grandpa Little did, I also know that my ending years might not be as wonderful or as long as his were. He continued to be active in mind and body until the last few months of his one hundred eighth year. At the same time he wisely knew when to curtail certain activities like driving a car or living alone. He let go of the past and focused on the present and the future. He kept reading and learning and changing. He continued to use his skills to repair and remodel the home where he lived. He walked around his neighborhood and kept up with the progress of the world. He was able to do that because he had the good fortune of having incredible health.
One of my aunts did not do as well. She lived to the age of one hundred but spent most of her last twenty years confined to a wheelchair while living in a nursing home. Her mind was a clear as ever but her body turned on her. The days became long and repetitive for her. There was very little stimulation that kept her sharp. She was unable to hear the people who came to visit her. She had to share a room with various people who sometimes died next to her. She often wondered out loud what purpose there was in enduring such a long life without the ability to find enjoyment in it.
I don’t always dwell on the end of my time or that of anyone else but I now watch my father-in-law each day and panic at the thought of being his age and waking up each day to a sameness that seems to satisfy him but would drive me into a state of anxiety and sadness. I don’t want my final years to be like his or like those of my aunt. I find myself hoping that my genes have made me like my grandfather. I want to be productive and wise and independent and inspiring like he was. I suspect that we all wish to be that way. I wonder if Grandpa was an exception or if it is truly possible to grow older and older with joy and grace.
My focus these days is on the young. I still enjoy being with them. I see how earnest they are in wanting to make the best of themselves. They are not the ignorant and selfish persons that some of my peers seem to believe they are. The keep me optimistic all of the time. I like being able to teach them mathematics and help them to move closer and closer to the adult world. I enjoy hearing their points of view and considering their ideas which may seem radical to anyone with a closed mind. They inspire me to smile at thoughts of the future. They keep time moving pleasantly for me.
None of us have any way of predicting what will happen next in our lives. The clock of history just keeps ticking and we are part of it. The only thing we have the power to choose is how we will react to the times while our hearts still beat. We can fight and complain or learn to use each moment to be helpers however we are able. Whatever our condition we would do well to spread optimism about the future for surely it will continue on with or without us.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 