Well, yesterday morning I heard that dreaded “it” again. This time I heard “it” on the back three miles of my six mile route. Power walking at about a 13 1/2 minute mile clip, a jogging VSU footballer came up on me and in the course of a short panting conversation said “it,” “You’re doing real good for your age.” I silently smiled.
“For your age?” What does that mean? It doesn’t matter whether we’re talking about labels about gender, race, religion, ethnicity, nationality, sexuality, special needs, cultural style, “student,” “faculty,” “administrator,” or whatever. It means others around whom we live have a perspective and expectation about who we are, an image of who they expect us to be, a role they’ve written for us to play. It means, as e.e. cummings said, everyday we’re dealing with those people who are want to make us into the people they want us to be. And, those expressed assumptions, that erode authenticity, strip away individuality, can have an impact not only on how we’re treated by those others, but also on what we believe about ourselves and how we treat ourselves. Those assumptions can worm their way into our consciousness about who we think we are, what we think we’re capable of, what we deserve, what expectations we rise to, how we feel, and what we do.
“For your age?” Far more often than not, those perceptions, labels, stereotypes, expectations, and generalizations others have of us are dehumanizing, impersonal, denigrating, and discriminatory. At least, they were in my life until I was fifty. It’s was only when I challenged them, as I did when I had that epiphany in 1991, that I asserted myself. That epiphany was partly a discovery that if I could advocate for myself, I would see that the stories others have about me aren’t true. I learned that if I could muster the strength to disavow them, I would exhume the buried courage to risk getting to know myself. Trust me, to learn who you can become it’s not always easy, and certainly not without its risks. It’s scary to get to know who you are underneath the hitherto accepted expectations in which others have wrapped you. It’s like forsaking a long-time and trusted friend and embracing a stranger about whom you know nothing. It’s like leaving the safety and comfort of what you had convinced yourself was home only to find that it was not and to come to the unfamiliar surroundings of a place in your heart and soul that genuinely feels like home.
“For your age?” It was Rumi who said, “Let the beauty of what you love, be what you do.” So many of us look out or up, but rarely in. I realized, however, that I had to go on a pilgrimage to the most sacred of all places: me. I discovered that I had to stop wishing and be the wish; I had to stop praying for and start living the prayer; I had to separate my dreams from limiting generalizations, fears, stereotypes, demands, biases, and prejudices And, as I successfully stepped outside the roles others had written for me, I could discover unlimited faith in, hope for, and love of myself. I discovered that if I could rewrite the misconceiving script, I could be a better person. I also discovered that if I could stop “being against” and “be for,” I would be unbelievably empowered. And, far more important, I saw that if I could mentor myself, I could use that empowerment to help others to help themselves likewise find the courage and strength to take a similar risk.
“For your age?” Our life stories, however, are not set in the stone tablets others have chiseled for us. Those stories others have scripted out for us, which we too often accept as gospel, aren’t accurate for they exaggerate one or more areas of our lives, deflate others, and ignore or are ignorant of still others. In reality, we are always more than flattened, impersonal images, and are forever writing additional chapters to our story. The only question is according to what themes, those laid out by others or different ones laid out by us. Let me tell you something, it is amazing–amazing–what you can accomplish when you stop submissively answering and begin independently questioning; when you stop groveling and obeying, and start standing tall and erect. When you divorce yourself from the marriage to whom others tell you to be. You know what happens? You live revelation after revelation after revelation. You’re constantly entering new world after new world after never world you never dreamed existed. You’re using a vocabulary you never knew. And, in the process, the present you becomes a different self. And, maybe, just maybe, as in my case, choices rise to and transform into a destined calling.
“For your age?” What did C.S. Lewis say? “There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind.” Oh, how right he was. When I wake up, it seems as if the whole day is stretching in front of me like an enormous meadow filled with beautiful wild flowers. The only retiring I do is when I hit the sack each night. Each day, I do myself a “flavor.” I taste life. So many of us make the mistake of looking out and wishing, or looking up and praying, when we should be seeing in. You see, you can’t be bold if you feel old. You can’t swing if you idly sway in a hammock. You can’t rock by merely lazily rocking in a rocking chair.
“For your age?” So, while I may be getting older, I refuse to get old. My intent is to remain an “experienced teenager,” if not in body, certainly more importantly in spirit. My purpose is to live with a distinct voice, to love and to experience the miracle of life, to be open to newness, to enthusiastically greet every moment, to embrace selfless faith, hope, and love, and to be a living expression of joy. The bottom line on all this is: since my epiphany in 1991, that is how I lived and taught; that is how I now still live; and how I’m going to do my damnedest to continue to live. And, if I do have to age, I’ll do it later.
“For your age?” Give me a break!
Thanks Louis… I needed this today.