Some - or many - thoughts on growing old(er)

 Well, this seems to be a theme of our times: too many old people hanging around. 

It is a fact, that here in Europe at least, we have less and less children and more and more older people. One starts to question oneself: when exactly does one start to be "old"?? I will turn 57 this August and feel weird about the number. Seems so not fitting for me. Because there are days when I feel like 18 (very rare nowadays, I do admit), days when I am 34,  some when 56 seems ok, but not right, some when I am 67 and some right out 89  - not too speak of the days, where I feel already dead. Interesting thought, because how to define being alive and dead at the same time?

 I asked my mother, who now is now 98, some years ago, when the imminent fear of loosing her was still much alight, that she should give me a sign, when she was dyeing, so that I could drop everything, pans, children, job and car, and rush down to lower Bavaria to sit at her bed and say good bye to her. She looked at me with her small eyes, overhang by hanging eyelids who look like a curtain in a derelict house, and said: But dearest, how? I will be dead then and nobody knows how this will be like?

She has a point there. What I mean here is that feeling of "being dead alive" seems to be a part of growing older quite naturally. We have done our bits, it seems and have time, or should have, to look at the last things. Because getting older means getting older indeed: supposedly taking a step back from being "active in life", ie being an asset in the dating market ( no, because overweight and whitehaired), helping the economy of getting ahead (no, I have everything I need and anyway because there is not enough income),  being active in a social environment to do my bit ( no, too tired after the job in the evening) and so on and so forth. On the other hand apparently we are in the best time of our life and have all the power and freedom and  time to do waht we really want to do. Well, not me - but then I am not yet 65 and retired. Still 10 years to go.

Do not get me wrong, I DO NOT complain here. Indeed, I am too glad not to have to be 23 again and think out a plan what will become of me. I see it in my children, they have a lot on their plate, a lot of choice, a lot of anxiety to get it right and a lot of stress to motivate themselves to get on going and believing that there is a future, an inspiring job which pays well,  a mate and children in a little house in the country side - and this in times of Covid, high inflation, not functioning trains in Germany and the highest prices to be paid for a room with flatmates in Munich. And all of that with one mother and one income of a secretary. Thinking about that, they are doing very well. But I can smell the stress sometimes through the telephone.

But back to me. Getting old. Defining what is old age, or older age. Here many things come to my mind, not only my place in the outer world, but also in my inner world. Me, myself and I growing older -  this experience, the ultimate experience if you are honest with yourself - in relation to my children, to my siblings, to my neighbours, to my colleagues, to my body, to my hair(!), to my wardrobe and the choice of shoes, to the purchase of a car and the dreams of a "third career" which will earn serious money and make me comfortable in my really old age without hanging on the pockets of my children, well, simply: to the possibilities available.

No worries, I am not a grumpy old woman, but sometimes like to affect it, as it makes life so much easier and is a good training to become the Dowager Countess of Grantham in Downton Abbey. I like the idea of saying what I think - because the other, younger, people will say: let her say what she wants, she is old and it does not matter what a crazy old woman utters madly in the tram. Right they are. Just imagine the freedom of it. 

And, it does not mean that I have to become an angry and unkind sort of person, no, far too lazy for that. I like to be kind, I like  - in general - people, I like life  - also in general - and I much rather smile over my mask to a stranger in the street and than look furious at him because he did not get out of my way on the trottoir. Sadly, very very rarely someone smiles back. As if smiling at older people was something painful and to be avoided in the generations between 15 and 60. Older people though smile back, and children as well. At least in my experience. 

I have always taught my children to smile always at children, always, always, always. Often they smile back, not always. Often they look worried and bored out of their buggies into the world. It looks to me that few people smile at children nowadays, and children are the future. So, to smile at a child, is to smile at the future.

Some rambling on basic good manners from a grumpy old woman - today: elevators

Do you remember your parents telling you to wash you hands before going to have dinner or to say thank you when someone gave you a present? Or, even more important, look people in the eye, when you say hello to them? Or closing the door, when you leave the room, or, even more important, the house? 

Basic stuff, I know. I wonder whether it is my methusalemic age, but I really start to notice if people do not know that it is terribly rude to walk over you when you are passing by, or that the fact that you would like to finish a sentence once begun should be a part of basic human rights.

Working in an international environment does help to become a philosopher in such observations. My best loved motto in live has been already for a while: "Watch and learn".

For instance, the elevator situation. First you wait for the elevator - there are people here who are courteous and let you, as you have white hair and are female ( pretty sure that his nowadays is NOT, repeat NOT a defining factor any longer), go first. Others simply move over you, even if there is no hurry. Others again stay in front of the open elevator and check their mails on their mobiles, keeping the rest of the dutifully assembled colleagues waiting and if someone makes a little noise, do not apologise nor react.

The next opportunity to watch and learn is the travelling in an elevator. Some people simply carry on their conversations in a presumably foreign language ( you never ever know who else is speaking your language!!!) and with a certain level of sonority - well, good for them. Should the elevator come to a halt and a new passenger enter the premises, one would expect a short nod or some sort of acknowledgement that one is entering a previously occupied room. But this is actually very rare to happen. Smiles are precious and are kept back for apparently more rewarding situations. Awkward silence ensues - not that I am the first to welcome small talk in elevators, but at least not a hostile atmosphere.

Most people still say good bye when they get out, but do not say hello, when they get in. Last thing to observe is the idiosyncrasy of how getting out of the little mobile box - letting the ladies get out first is becoming rare, and saying good bye might be the best of all of it. Basically it is one for me and me for me as well. If I am let out first and a man keeps the door open for me, I feel positively elated and very much from the last century, not fit to survive in the  modern world. I do smile and say thank you all the same. perhaps this would make the person happy and it costs me nothing..

Better and healthier to take the stairs anyway. Nobody there, no awkward social situations and you can have quiet conscience of not ruining the environment.

Happy New Year - in spite of all!!

So: Happy new year to everybody! What ever that means... again a year has passed and a new year is starting, fresh like a baby newborn or a flower in buds - full of hope and promise and everytime we all fall in the trap of a new beginning, actually quite sweet.

I ask myself, where the last two years have gone? Did people during the great wars have this sort of feeling, of time simply lost and passed and gone and nothing to show for it? And then taking it up where they left, in our case in March 2020? I am not sure. But very curious.

As it is, a new year is always this little opportunity given to one to make a fresh start, like in Monopoly when you pass a certain field, go back to start and off you go again: Do make obnoxious new years resolutions like stop smoking and be being kind to everyone on the road, or stopping to eat at all ( after all all this intermittent fasting stuff is supposed to work, but never with me - I seem to come from Mars, it is dawing on me...) or doing more exercise - all in all always something which is taken solemnly on by oath and then abandoned pretty soon, around 14th of January when you are a normal person.

I am learning and have a smallish plan for this year: to do more of the things, which really really give me joy AND are good for me.

Like Plan 1: drinking these two huge glasses of water in the morning after getting up. Not warmed, not with the odd lemon pressed, not with standing on one foot or only after doing 45 minutes of yoga - forget it. Only to drink two huge glasses of filtered water. Should be possible to survive the 15 January threshold. I hope so at least.

Plan 2: Turn out the light at 23.00, not earlier and not later. So, no permission any longer to self to  coming home from the office at 19.30, putting on pajamas and going to bed at 20.00 - then being wide awake at 1.00 and starting to do the thinking roundabout until 4.00 and then falling asleep and being knackered at 7.00 when the alarm clock shrills. No, no, no - not any more. 

Or Plan 3: write more and give a damn if it is interesting or not. Like this post here. Just do it and leave it out there in the wilderness.

My zodiac sign is Leo, this explains it all I think. Since I learnt how lions do operate their day to day I have always the best explanation for being who I am and not being ashamed of it: They hunt hard for ca 3 hours a day, then lay down on the plane, keeping one eye on the kids and the other one on the plane,  looking what's up, how the wind blows and what to have for lunch tomorrow, resting in the shade and feeling calm and happy. Being a woman lion, of course there are the kids to be taken care of, but none of them is under 10 any more, so hunting is ok and resting as well. 

Still, one problem persists: the brain does not stop working and the always present question of "What next in this life?" is a humming background sound and keeps one up during the night, a bit like a tinnitus. Montaigne is clever when he said that when he writes he writes, when he sleeps, he sleeps. I cannot yet follow this example and my head looks more like a market place in Samarkant on a Saturday morning at 11.00 - or at least I imagine that it looks like that, never have been there, just imagine.

Long speech for starting then new year and short message: make it easier on yourself and do enjoy more. Which in turn makes everyone of us a more enjoyable person to be with and does indeed help not to take oneself too important, and become slightly mad in the process, with or without Santa Corona, because we are all too much alone in our minds and have too many expectations how happiness should look like. Reading the Stoics and Montaigne and some other clever people I think happiness has a lot to do with contentment and sunbeams playing on the river of our lives, at 17.00 hours on a calm summer afternoon, not more and not less. Very philosophical, I know.