For company

an empty chair

(Ken Jones)

Like many older people, my husband and I regularly spend time with our grandchildren—the offspring of his two sons. One lot we see every last Monday of the month, and it often involves a trip to a museum, or to watch animals, fish, owls, etc in some kind of enclosed space. Sitting down for picnics and ice cream treats are an important feature of the outings, and sometimes the occasion for somewhat extended conversation—unless they claim a table to themselves. They like presenting us with surprising facts—about whales for example: did you know that a sperm whale tooth can weigh up to one kilogram? Sometimes they bring up an ethical conundrum and we might discuss the pros and cons of telling a white lie. The other two grandkids are younger, four and seven years old, and it doesn’t matter so much where we are, as long as we are willing to play with them. Free play is best—a recent favorite is the jail game, which is about their repeated escapes from custody, despite our best efforts to keep them in. The youngest, Tilda, is very impressive at the kind of game where you have to remember matching pairs of tortoises among 40 downward-facing cards displaying different shell patterns. It shows up the difference in our short-term memory capacities, and Tilda will often generously help us out. 

Much as I enjoy these occasions, I have noticed that I tend to feel a little dislodged for a couple of hours afterwards, as if pulled from my center of gravity and purpose, not quite knowing what to do with myself. It seems hard to reconnect with other significant threads of my life, such as my work around writing, art and teaching. So, when asked to provide child care, I consider it carefully and there can be a hint of guilt for not embracing my grandmotherly role more enthusiastically and unquestioningly. Maybe, not having brought up children of my own, I am just not very practiced at shifting focus quickly—or what is going on here? Certainly, my husband doesn’t seem to experience any difficulties in getting straight back to his schedule.

One of my current study interests is “ageing well,” partly in preparation for running courses on mindfulness and creative writing for older people. Also, finding myself at the end of my 6th decade, increased knowledge and awareness about this later stage of life would surely be of personal benefit. I came across the research of the psychiatrist George Vaillant who, drawing on the landmark, longitudinal “Harvard Study of Adult Development” identified seven major factors that predict healthy ageing, both physically and psychologically: employing mature adaptations, education, stable marriage, not smoking, not abusing alcohol, some exercise, and healthy weight. “Mature Adaptations” is of particular interest here—following the developmental stage of “Generativity”, which is concerned with immediate, family-related care and creativity, the person in their sixties and seventies may step into the role of the “Keeper of the Meaning.” (Vaillant 2002, p 48) The archetypal ring of this term appeals to me—“Keeper of the Meaning”—it sounds like an orientation or a calling towards embodied values and principles, passed on not just to family but aimed for a wider reach. This vocational pull is not new to me, but with mortality nearer on the horizon, the urgency grows—maybe it is this that creates some tension with the granny-role?  

On closer reading it turns out that Vaillant sees the main role of the keeper as that close to a judge, and concerned with “the conservation and preservation of the collective product of mankind.” (p48) He admits that the downside of preserving the past is rigidity. (p 145) I don’t quite recognize myself in that description—but this could be age-related blinkeredness of course! I find myself wanting to drop the article—“Keeper of Meaning” feels more in alignment with how I want to fill that role. What I feel drawn to give my energy to is not so much being the keeper of what is already known, but being someone who keeps the quest for meaning alive, who maintains zest and capacity for inquiry. I would like to be an elder who is still genuinely curious, still willing to be surprised, still bringing beginner’s mind to new territory. As this idea takes shape, it occurs to me that playful contact with children is actually a great way to foster some of these qualities—and it is in fact what I enjoy about their company. Maybe just being aware of this could make a difference in integrating the “Quest for Meaning” with getting absorbed in the children’s world for a few hours? I’ll keep it in mind next time we look after the little ones.

And there is definitely a keeping, protecting element to this quest—guarding values that don’t have a ready place in our modern market-oriented world. I am making a stand for virtues, traditionally associated with elderhood, that can easily get lost: contemplation, simplicity, authenticity, humor, equanimity, to name a few. I have noticed that people at retirement age are often very busy, to the point of chronic stress, with family engagements, travels, volunteering, exercise classes, further learning and so on. All of these activities are found on the list of “ageing well” manuals, and I am sure they can contribute to a good quality of life. And I wonder whether there might be something else at work—a fear of missing out, of being left behind, of wanting to be seen to be useful? What would it be like to truly relax into the relative freedom from duty that the later stage of life offers? To lean back into the pleasure of simply doing nothing? What are we afraid of? What might we encounter in ourselves when we stop being busy and useful to others?

I am in good company with this enquiry. The late Zen practitioner, poet and social activist Ken Jones has some interesting insights into “the great adventure” of aging. He keeps his sight firmly set on the central spiritual challenge of letting go of self. He sees that helping others can be a, “major distraction from truly seeking to help ourselves.” (Ken Jones Zen)

How far are we really serving ourselves and how far are we selflessly serving others? Only the cultivation of scrupulously honest insight can give a clear answer. For if we are predominantly serving our selves then the quality of our service is likely to be flawed. (Ken Jones Zen)

Such a query, he is quick to point out, shouldn’t stop us from offering help if it is needed, in fact it is, “by the actual experience of helping that we have an opportunity to observe what underlying motivations are at work.” (Ken Jones Zen) Reading this I start to feel more curious about how spending time with our grandchildren could feed into the perennial Dharma questions around self/no-self/emptiness and form. I’ll sit down on the “empty chair” in the company of Ken Jones.  

Awareness is the key to making decisions about how we spend our time wisely, and it is never too late to start developing such awareness skills. I would like to help older people to see that devoting time to inner reflective, meditative and creative work is not self-indulgence, it’s what healthy ageing actually looks like. A growing body of research suggests that mindfulness practice supports cognitive function and emotional resilience in older adults, though the picture is still emerging. Interestingly, Vaillant’s findings on religion and spirituality were notably inconclusive. He found that religious affiliation and practice didn’t independently predict healthy ageing once other factors like relationships and mature coping styles were accounted for. He was candid about his own disappointment with that finding. (p 259) My guess is that this result might be related to the kind of spirituality people were practicing. In the quarter of a century since that Harvard study, what is sometimes called the “mindfulness revolution” has swept the modern world, with its encouragement to turn towards our experience with an attitude of kind and honest enquiry. It has also heightened awareness of the detrimental effects of judgement as a habitual state of mind and opened the routes to healing layers of intergenerational trauma.

But it isn’t easy. The busyness that fills the diary with family duties can also be a way of avoiding the confrontation with a deeper call. We want to avoid sitting with uncertainty, with the blank page, with the question of whether what we have to offer is really worth offering. There may be grief waiting for us, and fear of death. Inner resistance is often the guardian standing at the door of something that matters. Mindfulness is what lets you sit with the resistance long enough to see through it.

Like a pebble

that rolls downhill

I arrive at today

(Nagata Koi, British Haiku Society)

References

Vaillant, George E., M.D. 2002. Aging Well: Surprising Guideposts to a Happier Life, from the Landmark Harvard Study of Adult Development. New York, NY: Time Warner Trade Publishing.

See more

Ageing: the Great Adventure – A Buddhist Guide (Ken Jones Zen)
Liberative Haiku (British Haiku Society)

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