I was pleased today that a number of the Mansion residents asked me if they could get some of the books I have been reading at the local library.

I asked if they would like me to purchase the books so they could have one in their rooms and read it before or after they meditate. They all said yes, they would love that.

They are listening; they want to know more. The class gets more profound and more meaningful.

(Above photo, Kim Dooley, assistant activity director, The Mansion. She’s been meditating for years.)

I was excited by their enthusiasm; it told me they were listening and eager to know more about the different ways to think about getting older.

“We were always told getting older was just an awful thing. My grandmother always told me not to get old,” she said, “it was no fun.” Everyone complains about it; it becomes hopeless and discouraging.

I’ve read Joan Chittister’s books to my meditation class for weeks, especially “The Gift Of Years.”  And Henri Nouwens meditations and essays;

Chittister argues there is a built-in danger in old age, one of life’s most difficult periods rather than the most satisfying.

Growing old is hard, I told them, but it can also be much more than that.

We can have fun, learn new things, make new friends, use the time we have to good use and give ourselves a purpose for being alive.

“Act your age,” wrote Chittister,” can be good advice when you’re seventeen, but it’s a mistake when you’re seventy-seven.”

(Sharon, a Mansion resident and published poet)

When we start talking the old talk and acting old, however old we are, we’re finished. Working our age, she said, can be a terminal illness.

This is a new idea to them, but it isn’t new to me, and I am happy to share this notion with the people in my meditation class. Life, at any age, is what you make of it.

I don’t do old talk; my age and body changes are something I’m aware of, but they are not the only thing I talk about or the subject of every conversation I have. I stay away from people who speak of nothing else. That means I have few older friends.

Almost everyone in my meditation class has been in the hospital at least once this year; we talk about how constant preoccupation with health can dominate their lives and view of themselves.

When people ask me about my health, which they do more often, I say, “fine.” I consider my health to be a private affair unless there is something useful I can share with others. It does not define me any more than politics does.

I told them that my age and health are not keeping me from doing anything I want to do, and I am committed to growing,  changing, and learning. I think that is my idea of health at any age. We all need a purpose and a mission; I said, let’s talk about ours.

The class has sharpened my spiritual thinking and opened me up to the spiritual lives of other people.

I like working with the Mansion residents for many reasons, but one of them, I find, is that they become deeply spiritual as they age. As they get closer and closer to death, they are eager to turn to spirituality to stay hopeful and connected to other people.

They inspire me to do the same thing.

I’m never really sure what the residents in my class are thinking; some never talk, others only occasionally, and others fall asleep during our sessions. But I learned today they are listening.

When I asked who in the room wanted a copy of the book I’d been reading from, every hand in the room went up.

I’m going to try and raise some money to get Chittister’s book for everyone in the class.

The meditation class is working, a bright spot in my life and work. They are listening, thinking, and coming back for more. The group is growing. We haven’t lost a single person.

I love having Susan there; she is young and new to the Mansion and doesn’t like silence, keeping her eyes closed, or anything about meditation.

But she is coming back every week, and this time she made it to three minutes of meditating before asking me if she could open her eyes and walk around. “I’m just restless,” she said.

“Great,” I said, “feel free to come and be restless here.”

This isn’t high school or jail. I told her she could do whatever she wanted.

This Sunday, on Christmas, the group and I agreed that we would all meet in the activity room – those who weren’t leaving to join their families. I said I would invite Maria and bring Zinnia.

We’re going to meet at 10:30 a.m. A few in the class will be away with their families. The others would be at the Mansion and would love to see Zinnia.

Seeing how happy they are when she comes charging into the room, tail going a mile a minute is fantastic.

I can’t think of a better gift to myself than this visit on Christmas Day.