Your Future Self
A farmer got so old that he couldn't work the fields anymore. So he would spend the day just sitting on the porch. His son, still working the farm, would look up from time to time and see his father sitting there.
“He's of no use any more," the son thought to himself, "he doesn't do anything!" One day the son got so frustrated by this, that he built a wooden coffin, dragged it over to the porch, and told his father to get in. Without saying anything, the father climbed inside.
After closing the lid, the son dragged the coffin to the edge of the farm where there was a high cliff. As he approached the drop, he heard a light tapping on the lid from inside the coffin. He opened it up. Still lying there peacefully, the father looked up at his son. "I know you are going to throw me over the cliff, but before you do, may I suggest something?"
"What is it?" replied the son. "Throw me over the cliff, if you like," said the father, "but save this good wooden coffin. Your children might need to use it."
Zen Buddhist (Wooden Coffin) story.
People fall into two groups: the already-old and/or the future-old. No exceptions other than, perhaps, Paul McCartney (age 80!), though even he reportedly reassured an intimidated fan by saying, yeah, “I’ve really done very well but, believe me, I’m just some geezer.”
Perhaps you’ve indulged in a comparative then/now picture of a fantasy character from your youth. Oh, my God, you think, not only is the bloom off the rose but that fantasy is now almost unrecognizable, perhaps even distorted by the botched plastic surgery undertaken in pursuit of some imagined previous essence. That essence of youth may run the gamut from sexual allure, to intellect, to power, to wealth, to athleticism (MM 2/5/18 Glory Days). All in vain, though, as each disappears to be swallowed up to join the ranks of “the Other.”
So here’s the puzzle raised in our focus discussion piece: why do we neglect and disdain the one vulnerable group we all eventually will join (Old Not Other)? Our answers may reveal more about us than we realize.
There is a societal “conspiracy of silence”, we are told, around the consignment of the already-old to a sort of “foreign species,” virtually unheard, for if their voices were heard, we would have to acknowledge that such voices were human voices. Underlying this estrangement is the bad-faith aversion on the part of the not-yet old to flee from the prospect of their own aging and mortality.
In other words, nothing personal – it’s us, not you. Small consolation, though, when the effect is a hostile and lonely world – one, by the way, each of us is destined to inhabit. That is unless we resolve to rediscover our shared humanity.
Our session will center around an honest assessment of how we regard ourselves within our respective life cycle, different cars on the same train. We may see ourselves as the farmer toiling away just to provide for his own young family. There seems to be a generational resentment growing toward the so-called Gray Tsunami leaching the country’s increasingly limited resources.
We may self-identify as “young” old, now outside the ranks of the traditional contributing class but still attached to the idea of some youthful essence. Or, perhaps, some biological insult announces our new status as “old” old and we become the person we might have made fun of in our previous incarnation.
Respect for the old thus becomes a healthy respect for our future selves.