From the author of Women of a Certain Age, BRIGID LOWRY’s latest collection of short essays, A Time of Living Graciously, offers a refreshing antidote to our culture’s obsession with aging. Read on for an extract.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Brigid Lowry’s insights into ageing gracefully and gratefully are a warm embrace for the soul.

From navigating the quirks of creaking joints to pondering life’s mysteries, Brigid reminds us to approach life with humour and kindness.

Whether you’re facing the occasional stumble or pondering the mysteries of existence, let this collection be your companion.

**********

EXTRACT

I was sorry to hear my name mentioned as one of the great authors because they have a sad habit of dying off. Chaucer is dead, so is Milton, so is Shakespeare, and I am not feeling very well myself.  − Mark Twain

Here we are in a body, a place familiar and foreign, rich with delights and mysterious complaints. We have lived in it since the day we were born, yet it feels such a stranger nowadays.

We don’t own our body. It’s a rental. Sooner or later, we leave the premises. We can’t control our body, demanding that it not get a headache, a disease, or broken limb, or wrinkles, or a troubling pain that may or may not prove to be fatal.

Many of us have a complicated relationship with our body. We’ve survived accidents, illnesses, eating disorders, addictions, pregnancy, or some combination of the above. We have felt too fat, too thin, too pimply, too freckly, too short, too tall, too something else. We have made babies, run marathons, spent time in hospital.

Now, a new problem. Unless we die young, we grow old, which entails learning to live in an old body.

Looking around me, the news is not good. Quite a few of my favourite people have died. Many of my male friends have prostate troubles, some serious. Three friends have Parkinson’s, several have had breast cancer, some have diseases I haven’t even heard of and the rest of us are worried about losing our marbles.

For myself, at present it’s all about the knee. Arthritis apparently. Bloody sore at times. The doctor recommends exercise, painkillers and when it becomes crippling agony, a knee replacement. A friend reports that her knee replacement left her in pain and that after many months of physiotherapy, it still isn’t great. Not wonderful for her, nor wonderful to hear. Surgery is more of a challenge for older people and is not always successful. Whoo-hoo, ho-hum and onwards.

I also have varicose veins and age spots, and I doubt you want to hear about my bladder. Every time I get an odd pain, I immediately think cancer, even when it’s a sudden twinge in my toe.

As my friend Zoe commented: The ageing body, such a disappointment. Anne Lamott says her body has degenerated over time to grandma pudding – and aren’t you glad you aren’t Samuel Pepys, who in his last thirty years suffered badly with his sinuses, joints and bowels.

This is the way it is. Bodies decay and decline. Every person will have a unique combination of loss: sight, memory, hearing, hair, energy, body parts. You won’t meet many who find it a welcome situation.

Let’s start by relaxing. It’s not your fault. It’s not a personal failure. It’s just the way it is. It is normal to age. It’s also normal to have mixed feelings about our body, on the one hand eating butter from a teaspoon, on the other joining a gym.

Freaking out, pretending it isn’t happening, or endless whingeing aren’t useful. As long as you are still breathing, there is more right with you than wrong, no matter what else might be the matter, Jon Kabat-Zinn reminds us.

So look at the situation with kindness, get interested, treat getting older as the adventure it is. To deny the natural order of things – to reject the truth that bodies break down and eventually die – is to suffer.

I like how Ram Dass regarded it. His leg was old, veined, and bulgy. Initially he found it an unpleasant sight, evoking ego, shame, and disgust. Not wishing to be at war with himself, he reframed his response. If his leg were a twisted ancient tree, he would acknowledge its long courageous history, and regard it with reverence. In nature, perfection is not required. A flower, from bud to blossom to spent bloom, has its own authenticity. May we learn to hold ourselves with the same acceptance.

Despite not being young and beautiful, we can decide to trust the inevitable process of the body, doing the best we can with the way things are. Ross Bolleter Roshi suggested to me that we can cultivate equanimity and good grace as we play the hand we’re dealt. Wise advice in general, and especially useful as we grow older.

Enduring sickness and decay won’t necessarily be easy. Zen teacher David Radin noted that if you are heavily attached to your body and invested in it being a particular way, ageing will be more of a problem for you. This is a deep truth and worth pondering. It encourages me to consider my agency. Do I construct a narrative of complaint, or can I be fearless, despite vulnerability, poor hearing and annoying forgettery? Can I regard myself as a beloved mystery, not a failing machine?

At times we may feel a perpetual patient, days cluttered with tests and procedures. Recently I had a cervical smear test, a Covid booster, a shingles vaccine, a pneumonia vaccine, and I’m due for a breast scan and a blood test. I can see this continuing maintenance as a hassle, or I can have gratitude for the first-world medical system which keeps me in the best shape possible.

Each one of us can have confidence, for the body knows how to do things: breathing, walking, sneezing, resting. We can provide massages, sunshine, swims, decent food, dancing, rest, hugs. We can aim for wellness, an equilibrium of body, mind and heart. We can balance looking after our health and accepting the reality of ageing. We can go to yoga, then relax on the couch.

As my mother said about almost everything, it could be worse.

Rather than concentrating on what hurts and isn’t functional, we can appreciate what’s going right. In my own case, my main organs are functioning. I can play merrily with my grandchildren, although I’m not that flash on the trampoline. I can dance, and I enjoy long walks. Attitude is all. Complaining is an endless highway. It can’t be overstated that the way we view our unavoidable ailments will either make our lives a lot easier or a whole lot harder.

Memory loss can be a worry but be nice to yourself. Losing the parsley does not mean you are losing your mind, and when you call the guy in the post office Aaron when his name is actually Jason he doesn’t seem to mind.

Current research suggests we should do a bit more as we age, rather than a bit less. Find movement that you enjoy: walking, exploring nature, table tennis, tai chi, yoga, line-dancing, cycling. Flexibility is important, and so is balance. Falling is a big setback so take care to walk mindfully down the stairs and stay well clear of people who text while zooming along on their e-scooters.

Mindfulness is also the key to managing pain. Adding fearful thoughts aggravates the situation.

Recently I wrenched my knee. The sensations varied from a dull constant ache to strong throbbing. These sensations were unpleasant but bearable. The unnecessary extra suffering was the rapid onset of fearful thinking. I can’t cope, what if it gets worse? I quietened the unhelpful voice of catastrophe and took a couple of analgesics. There was no real problem. If pain is an issue for you, do what needs to be done: applying heat or cold, taking medication, doing the exercises the physiotherapist suggests, anything practical advised by the doctor. Then do something generous for your body. Make it a soothing beverage. Apply creamy foot lotion. Lie down and rest. Listen to something wonderful.

As we get older, our body is not going to improve. It is destined to become fragile. The body is not us. It is a shell not of our own making, borrowed from heaven and earth, as poet Eiichi Enomoto so beautifully says in the poem ‘Hermit Crab’. When we see age as a natural process, it frees us to enjoy the life we have.

***********

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Brigid Lowry was born in New Zealand to a bohemian family where she learned to value books and writing. She hopes her work will inspire people to think, laugh and enjoy being alive. Brigid has a master’s degree in creative writing and is the award-winning author of eight young adult titles, including the bestseller Guitar Highway Rose.

Her recent titles are Still Life with Teapot: On Zen, Writing and Creativity (2016), and A Year of Loving Kindness to Myself & Other Essays (2021), both with Fremantle Press. She is in favour of kindness, vegetables and living simply.

Read more about Brigid’s work HERE.