Dancing Our Sorrow Away

When I was in College, the Jackson Browne album “Late for the Sky” was in heavy rotation on my apartment turntable. The album’s introspective songs had a certain appeal to a young man growing up and just starting to make his way in the world because they asked big questions about the purpose of life and how to think about all the tricky emotions that come with adulthood.

His song “For a Dancer” acknowledges one of the sad truths about life: that one day everyone and everything we love will be gone. Knowing this, Jackson sings that we owe it to those we love to make a joyful sound with our lives while we are here – and to do our best to spread seeds that will blossom long after we are gone.

Listen on Youtube to: Jackson Browne: “For a Dancer”

The final verse of the song reminds us that we all know people who have had a positive impact on our life (a teacher, coach, parent, friend) and who helped us to become who we are. Those people did great things for us, usually without knowing it. We are likewise called, Jackson sings, to have a positive impact on the lives we touch – even though we may never live to see the fruit of our labors.

Into a dancer you have grown
From a seed somebody else has thrown
Go on ahead and throw some seeds of your own
And somewhere between the time you arrive
And the time you go
May lie a reason you were alive
That you’ll never know

Jackson Browne “For a Dancer“

The song was written as a moving meditation on the death of Browne’s friend; who died in a fire at a young age. Browne explained that his friend was an interesting guy; a great dancer; a great tailor who would make his friend’s clothes; an ice skater who skated for the Ice Follies. “He was a Renaissance man and when I wrote him the song – I was trying to express the idea that your life is a dance”.

I like that image of our life as a dance and that we never know when it will be our last time on the stage. When I think of dancing, I think of being uninhibited, of letting my body react to the beat of the music, and of sharing a joyful personal moment with my dance partner.

When you are busy dancing, you are not worrying about your troubles, or the problems that that you will face tomorrow. Dancing is one of life’s rare human rituals; a moment of pure expression when you are able to forget about your ultimate fate and just focus on making a joyful noise.

A recent Youtube video created by the School of Life Company echoed a similar philosophy about the benefit of living life in the moment. The video was a commentary on the cultural expression “…rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic“, that is often used by people when they want to convey the futility or meaninglessness of a task.

Those familiar with the fate of the Titanic know that the hull was damaged and that the ship was destined to sink; so for the passengers on that ship to concern themselves with the position of the deck chairs is a failure on their part to recognize the true hopelessness of their situation.

Our life situation can become a little like passengers on a doomed liner. Our larger hopes in life have not come to fruition. We have come to see that our career won’t ever flourish; our relationships will always be less than ideal; we’ve passed our peak in terms of looks; our bodies begin to fall prey to ever more humiliating illnesses; society is becoming more dysfunctional than ever and political progress looks highly improbable.

It can start to feel like our ship is going down and that it would be silly trying to improve our condition, let alone find pleasure and distraction in our daily life. It would be to live in denial of the facts. Our instinct instead is to become pessimistic and gloomy about our ultimate end.

However, there is a crucial element which makes our predicament different from that of the passengers who lost their lives on the Titanic. Those passengers only had a few hours to contemplate their fate before the ship broke apart and sank into the icy waters of the North Atlantic. Our ship is going down too, but much more slowly. It’s as if the captain has let it be known that our ship is sinking and we can’t be rescued… but it will likely be a decade or more before we meet our final fate.

So, though we can’t be saved, though the end will be grim, we still have options as how to use our remaining time. We are involved in a catastrophe, but there are better and worse ways of passing the time and filling our days. Under those different circumstances, expending thought and effort on ‘rearranging the deck chairs‘ is no longer ridiculous at all, it becomes a logical step; one that can be turned into a higher calling.

When the larger hopes for our lives become impossible, we can learn to grow inventive around lesser, but still real, options for the time that remains. Keeping cheerful and engaged, in spite of everything, can bring some light through the dark storm clouds that you know are ahead.

Consider, for example, that you are on a very gradually sinking luxury liner in the early 20th century, you might every evening strive to put on a dinner jacket, dance the Foxtrot to the music of a string quartet, sing a cheerful song or settle into the ship’s library to read a good book – even as the water begins to pool at your ankles.

Or you might try to engage in a friendly game of shuffleboard on the slightly tilting deck; or decide to drop-in on a wild party in Steerage; help to comfort some despairing fellow travelers; or just try to have a deep and comforting conversation with a new friend – even though you can hear the sound of dishes smashing somewhere in a galley down below.

Of course your life would – from the big picture perspective – still remain a thorough disaster; but you might find that you were at least starting to enjoy yourself.

This kind of attitude and inventiveness is precisely what is need to help us cope with our state. Can we invest the days we have left with meaning even though everything is, overall, entirely dark? Our culture teaches us to focus on our big hopes, on how we can aim for everything going right. We crave a loving marriage, deeply satisfying and richly rewarding work, a stellar reputation, an ideal body and positive social change. What remains when those things are not attainable – when love will always be tricky, politics compromised, or the crowd hostile?

What is our equivalent to seeking the best spot for a deckchair on a sinking Ocean Liner? If marriage is far less blissful than we’d imagined, perhaps we can turn to friendship; if society won’t accord us the dignity we deserve, perhaps we can find a group of fellow outcasts; if our careers have irretrievably faltered, perhaps we can turn to new interests or hobbies; if political progress turns out to be perennially blocked and the news is always sour, we might absorb ourselves in nature or history.

In doing this, we would be turning to what our society might dismiss as Plan-B’s (what you do when you can’t do the things you really want to do). But there’s nothing wrong with that! It just may turn out that the secondary, lesser, lighter, reasons for living are, in fact, more substantial and enjoyable than we imagined.

And after a while we might come to think that they are what we should have been focused on all along – only it has taken a seeming disaster to get us to realize how central they should always have been.

My mother has always been a model to me of this kind of inventive thinking and an example of someone who has always been able to discover new things to do when she can no longer do the things she loves doing.

Now in her 94th year, she has good reasons to be gloomy about her present condition. Her ship has been slowly sinking over the last two decades. She is the last surviving member of her large, close knit, family; she lost her beloved husband after 66 years of marriage; she reads about the passing of friends and acquaintances almost every day in the obituaries; she has lived through several strokes and cardiac operations to place stents in her arteries; she struggles with gradual loss of hearing, eyesight, teeth and memory as well as the humiliating indignities of incontinence and lack of mobility that come with aging.

Despite these life difficulties, it is not in my mother’s nature to be gloomy. She laments what she has lost, yet she finds a reason to be optimistic about her situation and to be happy with the things that she can do. Here are some of the ways my mother has learned to stay cheerful, smiling and engaged in her diminished old age:

• She has learned to navigate an iPad so she can keep track of the Facebook lives of her eight children and dozens of grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
• She has become a late-in life sports fan, following with anticipation the exploits of her favorite New England Patriots and Boston Red Sox teams.
• She volunteers for her Church prayer line ministry, spending time each day praying for those in her parish who are in most need.
• She visits her husband’s grave regularly to sit in contemplation and tend to the flowers and plants.
• She tries to include some form of bodily exercise every day. Short walks with her walker outside on nice days, elderly chair exercises, rubber band stretching exercises.
• She communicates with her smart speaker to listen to music or hear the news (even though she worries about Alexa eavesdropping on her conversations).
• She stays engaged by reading books and bingeing her favorite TV shows.
• She visits French Youtube language web sites so she can enjoy hearing and practicing the French language that she grew up speaking.
• She has become the project manager of her house, assigning her children work to do around the house that she has historically done in the past and overseeing it to make sure it is done to her standards.
• She takes short field trips with her children to places from her past and shares happy memories of the people and events that shaped her life.

I co-share caretaker duties with my siblings and I feel blessed to spend one or two days every week with my mother. It has been a privilege for me to watch how she accommodates the frailties of old age without sacrificing her spirit. She knows the end is near, but she is not afraid; and until the end comes she is determined to wake up with a reason for living – and make sure the deck chairs are properly arranged on the deck.

May we too always find a way to dance our sorrows away.

Feeling Like a Stranger Nobody Sees

Bob Dylan recently celebrated his 80th birthday by releasing a film noir streaming art movie of him singing songs from his early career. The movie was filmed entirely in black & white and was appropriately named Shadow Kingdom because throughout the film dark shadows obscure the musicians and most of the surroundings.

Screenshot from Bob Dylan’s Shadow Kingdom Film

The set reminded me of something right out of an old twilight zone episode, a 1940’s style dark and smoky nightclub where the dozen or so people in the barroom sit at tables with their drinks and cigarettes, or mingle out on the dance floor slowly grooving to the music of Bob’s four piece band.

I realized while watching that Bob was clearly the oldest person in the film – there doesn’t appear to be a person in the band or in the audience who is older than 40 – most appear to be in their 20’s and 30’s. I’m not sure if it was his intention, but it would not surprise me to learn that Bob specifically wanted to surround himself with young people. After all, he is the man who wrote Forever Young and the one who made famous the observation that “He not busy being born is busy dying“.

For Bob it seems as if age is not a number but an attitude, and throughout his career he has refused to become a nostalgia act or to live on his past glories. Instead he has continuously changed and reinvented himself; and along the way he has succeeded in making music that is relevant and appealing to every generation. One look at the mix of young and old faces at his concerts demonstrates his ability to speak to all ages.

Which is difficult to do because in today’s society the elderly are often overlooked by the young. As people get older, they often get the feeling that they are being ignored and that they are becoming invisible within their communities. A couple lyrics from Bob Dylan’s later songs indicate that even someone as famous as him is not immune from this feeling.

Walking through the leaves, falling from the trees
Feeling like a stranger nobody sees

Lyrics from song Mississippi by Bob Dylan

I see people in the park forgetting their troubles and woes
They’re drinking and dancing, wearing bright-colored clothes
All the young men with their young women looking so good
Well, I’d trade places with any of them
In a minute, if I could

Lyrics from song Highlands by Bob Dylan

In these lyrics, Bob ponders the predicament which many old people find themselves in. Just when they should start feeling fortunate for reaching their seventh or eighth decade of life, their bodies become old and frail and they find themselves becoming unvalued outsiders. It seems as if the world speeds up and they just become spectators to life happening around them.

Strangers who once smiled and acknowledged them as they walked past begin passing by without even a glance. They become self-conscious about their appearance and failing senses and withdraw further into isolation, sadly contributing towards their own “invisibility”.

The author Helen Garner, in her 2015 essay The Insults of Age, writes that women especially have always had an acute awareness of growing old. Her essay explores all the cruel ways in which getting older means being erased from a culture that equates youth and beauty with value. “Your face is lined, and your hair is grey, so they think you are weak, deaf, helpless, ignorant and stupid. It is assumed that you have no opinions and no standards of behavior and that nothing that happens in your vicinity is any of your business.”

My father as he got older suffered from COPD (which made it a struggle for him to breathe) and hearing decline (which made it hard for him to follow group conversations). Despite this, he was beloved by his eight children for his wisdom, good nature, and the code of honor with which he lived his life.

But I remember my mother telling me about an incident that occurred that was very hurtful to my father when he was older. There were a group of people sitting around the table having a discussion about a specific topic. My father ventured to offer his opinion on the subject when one of the young people interrupted and told him that “Nobody really cares what you think“.

Those words were a shock for my father to hear. He was a man of integrity who was used to being treated with respect and dignity throughout his life and whose opinion was always highly valued. To bluntly be told that nobody cared what he thought was like a slap in the face. With incidences like this happening to the elderly is it any wonder why they become confused and retreat into isolation?

There was a time in the past when the elderly were revered, cared for, and sought out for their wisdom. It seems that today they are instead viewed as a burden and out of touch with the way the world operates. There is a generation of people that are overlooked every day.

Age should not define a person or diminish respect from others. According to the American Psychological Association, people who do not feel connected are at increased risk of depression, dementia, and poor self-esteem – all factors that can affect physical and mental health and overall life satisfaction.

And this problem between the generations is only likely to get worse as aging adults shuffle themselves off into sterile retirement communities that bill themselves as “God’s Waiting Room” while young adults flock to the vibrancy and vitality of urban cities. Both sides lose in this segregation of the generations as it becomes difficult for the young to imagine what their life might look like when they are older and the old forget what it is like to see the world for the first time through new eyes.

In a society that idolizes youth and youth culture, it can be difficult to understand and address the challenges older adults face. Changing society’s perception of the elderly is beyond me, but I can try to go out of my way to fully engage with the older adults I encounter in my day-to-day activities – to show them that I see them and that they are not invisible!

If each of us made a small effort to be friendly with the older adults we encounter, to listen to what they have to say and to treat them with dignity, then we would all be richer for the experience. Old folks have a lifetime of experiences to share and many interesting stories to tell – if we only give them the chance.

Perhaps there is a selfish motivation behind my efforts to fight the stigma of aging. After all, pretty soon I will be considered an old timer (my ten year old grandson already calls me an oldster); and I hope people will still see me and treat me with dignity as my body runs down. Invisibility is a good Superpower to have in the movies but, I imagine it must get pretty lonely in real life when nobody ever really sees you.