Finding meaning in aging and dying
We have noticed how very little conversation there is in our homes or in the media (or - extra surprisingly - maybe even in our places of worship) about how we make meaning or sense of aging and dying.
It can be really hard to talk and think about death, aging and illness when we only see them as a medical problem that needs stopping or fixing. If we only ever see death as a bad enemy that needs fighting we can quickly get stuck in fear and the busy work of battling- and leave very little space for contemplation, connection, comfort and peace.
How we age and die is not only about how much exercise we do, our diets, our doctors and the medicines we take. It is also about our relationships, our culture, the time and place we happen to live in, and our ethical and spiritual beliefs.
People have shared with us how deeply comforting it can be for them and their loved ones when they have talked about what dying and aging really means for them - NOT just the medical care they want.
What could feel different if we regular told true stories in our families and communities about the value of older people and some of the good things that can come when we age? Or if we talked together about our fears of dying and also about why death might be valuable and important for us, our culture or our environment? Could there be anything hopeful or precious about death - for those left behind or for us when we go? Are there ways to find meaning in dying, aging and illness without having to be ‘woo woo’ or religious? Can we talk about meaning without romanticizing or sentimentalizing dying as ‘lovely’ and ‘beautiful’?
This is a space that we have found really quiet. And yet ancient wisdom from all cultures tells us that there is huge value in aging and in finding meaning in dying and death.
Do you ever contemplate the meaning and purpose of death and aging?
Who or what helps you grapple with this stuff? Do you think it is important?
“I’m not romantic about dying. This is the hardest work you will ever do. It is tough. It’s sad and it’s messy and it can be cruel. And it’s beautiful sometimes and mysterious. But above all that, it’s normal. It’s a boat we’re all in. It’s inevitable and intimate. People think it will be unbearable, but they find they have the resources to deal with it. And they regularly - not always - develop insights into their lives in the time of dying that make them emerge as a much larger, more expansive, more real person than the small, separate self they’d taken themselves to be.”
Frank Ostaseski