After two storm delays, I finally met with my meditation group at the Mansion. They were worried about me; I explained my foot situation and said I hoped it would soon be resolved. They were eager to show me the gnomes they had been making, thanks to the donations  of supplies from the Army Of Good.

I missed my Meditation Class; I know it is good for me, and I hope it is good for them. I’ve never felt closer to the Mansion residents. It is an amazing group of people.

We talked about meditation and the opportunity aging offers us to go inside ourselves for comfort finally. There is often nothing else in our society.

We did some deep breathing, in and out, and I talked again about the history of meditation and its growing popularity in the West and Western medicine. When the table is complete, the other members sit on sofas along the wall and behind me. The class is always packed these days.

We are part of a spiritual community, it seems, and we are eager to be with one another.

First, I read from Thomas Merton’s  advice about meditating in New Seeds Of Contemplation: “There should be at least a room or some corner where no one will find you and disturb you or notice you.”

And then, from Joan Chittister’sThe Gift Of Years: “Age is the antidote to personal destruction, the call to spiritual growth because age finally brings us to the point where there is nowhere else to go but inside for comfort, inside for wealth, inside for the things that count.”

I suggested that we have no choice but to look inside of ourselves and find our place in this new reality. For me, it’s about doing as much good in the world as I can. This keeps me busy, engaged and drinking in the joys of a meaningful life.

We had our first man in the meditation class, his name is art and he is gentle and courteous. He seemed to enjoy his first meditation in life.

We talked about seeing aging differently than our society has taught us to see it. I said I was 75 years old now, no longer always the youngest person in my Mansion meetings. I am drawing ever closer to them, as I am one of them in many ways. I know what it feels like

Several women raised an interesting point I hadn’t thought much about in this context. The way their marriages worked, they said, all they could do was housework and cooking; they were never encouraged or supported in doing anything else, and they never learned to do anything, especially in assisted care, where so many things are done for them.

Suddenly, all of their work disappears and their purpose for living seems to be gone.

That doesn’t have to be the case.

Now, when they go to assisted care because they can no longer take care of themselves, they are free to think about new tasks, new ways to think, new things to do,  new ways to lead a fulfilling life.

Some of my Meditation Students have memory complaints, and some struggle to see or hear or stay awake.

Some are struggling with cognitive functions. Yet here the are, coming to class every week, listening, talking, and thinking. The courses are one of the highlights of my lengthening life.

I love them and am proud of their bravery and determination to have meaningful love for as long as they last. They could be watching TV, sitting in chairs alone, or waiting outside the dining room to eat. But there they are, looking deep inside themselves, wanting to be better and do better.

It is, I said, damping down time of life; passions and flaws like anger and hate and envy subside to the point that we can begin to awaken to another whole level of energy. For me, I said it is going some good for the world. I don’t need to rage about politics, fight culture wars, or seek new ways to hate people.

We all agreed to meet next week. “I won’t ever miss it,” said Claudia on her way out to the dining room. Nobody fell asleep today, at least not around the table.