Being older allows us to stray as we have never strayed before in our lives, writes Joan Chittisster, whose book The Gift Of Years was once again the subject of my Mansion Meditation Class Friday morning.

Old age can liberate us, as it has liberated me.

That was the topic I chose to talk about this morning. (Photo of Ellen, just recovering from sickness but always ready to smile.)

We talked about this idea of aging and liberation before the Meditation session ends each class – I try to offer stimulating and meaningful readings, and almost everyone in the class has asked me to get them a copy of this book and other books I’ve read from.

“We could go for a walk with a friend on Wednesday, for instance. Well, why not?” writes Chittister. “We could go down to the library, sit in the reading room, and read all day. Well, why not? We can sit outside or at the water’s edge and read a book. Well, why not? “

Why not, indeed. Can we walk through the mystery of life until we are comfortable enough with secrets to trust it even at the end? I asked the women and men sitting around the table this question. Their eyes were wide, but no one had an answer. I didn’t either, not really.

Years ago, I ended a book – Running To The Mountain –  by writing that life is full of crisis and mystery. I feel these days differently, or perhaps I’d just put it differently. There are crises, and there is life. I have no control over the one, but the second is up to me.

Mystery, for me, is what happens when I allow life to evolve rather than having to be responsible for making it happen all the time. It is spotting a beautiful cloud, taking a beautiful flower photo, walking in the woods with Maria and the dogs, listening to music, reading a wonderful  book, and riding up the hill to see a beautiful sky.

For me, there is something holy about simply presuming that what happens to me on any given day is sent to awaken my soul to something new, another smell, a different taste, a moment when I permit myself to lock eyes with a stranger, to smile unexpectedly, to say hello to someone walking by, to do a good deed for someone in distress, to take a beautiful picture.

Who knows, indeed? Maybe any of those things will open me up further to the healing memory of pain, an uplifting recollection of success and glory, a decisive moment of acceptance or astonishment, and a sense of the presence of some God in my life.

Meditation class often feels as good for me as I hope it is for the other people in the room. I need it too. And I have come to value it deeply.

Three of them thanked me today; they said they have begun meditating every morning, seeing the world differently and more positively.

Talk about a moment of glory.