One of the curious things about aging is that the mind and the body are rarely in synch. I sometimes need to remind my body that it is a part of me.

I never imagine myself as old; discovering I am old is always a shock.

People love to tell me aging is about one bad thing after another, but that’s not how I see it.

My life has been full of good things, one after the other, the older I’ve gotten.

I believe old talk leads to old thinking, and old thinking leads to misery and death.

For me, getting old is about change, renewal, and truth, some wonderful, some not.

Joan Chittister says growing older is about shining light on the way to ultimate peace and the complicated passions that drive us. That is my experience. I am forever trying to make peace with myself.

Once in a great while, I succeed.

Things seem to me much as they have always been, except for short-term memory lapses, a few more mistakes, feet that hurt, frequent trips to the bathroom, and incredulous glances in the mirror, something I should get over.

The other night, Maria and I finally realized that my recent surgery and its aftermath had exhausted both of us, as did the previous pandemic and the ongoing changes in our bodies. And that we are pushing ourselves too hard and too fast. That is taking a toll.

We both deny any suggestion that we have less energy than before. I can’t deny it any longer.

It isn’t that we don’t love what we do or wish to keep doing what we do; it’s more that we need to look at where we are, how much rest we need, and if there are some things we can do to change or slow ourselves down.

I’m not messing with my blog or photographs; Maria isn’t changing anything about how she makes art. So the challenge is to work around that. We had a couple of ideas that are promising that have changed things already.

We are catching up with ourselves.

We need to catch up with ourselves. Welcome to the eternal search for the fullness of life, not its inevitable end.

St. Benedict’s first rule was this: “The first step of humility, then, is that we keep “the fear – the reverence” – of God always before our eyes and never forget it.”

St. Benedict wrote that 15 centuries ago, it’s important but a bit dramatic, as was religious writing at the time.

I don’t have a single God to revere and tremble before, but I get the idea and like it; I can borrow it. I raid other religions all the time.

I need to be accountable and never forget that I am trying to live a full and meaningful life. Never.

I answer to my own conscience, I wish nothing more than to be a better human.  I believe in truth and compassion, they are the stepstones of humanity.

Maria and I are 17 years apart, and she is in excellent health. I have I noticed that she gets tired at night lately, more than usual, just like I do.

Her work is often physical as well as creative. Farm chores are no walk in the park; most of them have fallen on her. Not to mention woodstacking, gardening, and spreading manure all over the farm.

My work is less physical than hers now, but I am on the move all day; my work is often intense and draining.

I write a lot and take pictures often:  it is real work. So is my work with the refugees and the Mansion residents.

I’m very committed to this work and will never forget about it.

The surgery broke our momentum and our routines, we are realizing.

We are working together to get them back, and we are succeeding and quickly.

I have another surgery coming up Friday. This dragging won’t happen again. All of my body parts will remain intact.

Since the toe surgery, we were getting dopey at night, drifting off while reading and streaming mysteries we couldn’t finish in one sitting.

It was exhausting in its own way, not the surgery, but the aftermath. It wore us down.

If we can’t stay awake for the mysteries, I told Maria we shouldn’t be watching them. And the ones watch should be good.

I dislike the idea of TV as a tranquilizer and distractor; that is mindlessness to me. There are many other things to do that keep my focus and mind fresh and energized, Maria feels the same way.

We were using some late evening streaming as a calming and soothing device. Why not do the real thing and recognize we need a little rest?

I can live without the Crown.

That extra hour or two on either end has significantly changed our energy, moods, and creativity. It also keeps our spirits high. We are back to normal in the morning, full of energy and promise.

We can do everything we need to do and more, but neither of us has the energy we had a decade ago. That is hardly big news to older people, but it was a revelation to me. It happened slowly, I barely noticed it.

That is how aging often works.

I learn all the time that I’m not as bright as I sometimes think I am.

This fatigue and sluggishness aren’t us, not at any age.  Aging has its own pace, but we are not helpless or silenced. We just have to keep up with ourselves.

Last night, we found out of our malaise and tried a terrific new restaurant in an adjoining town. It was just what we needed to wake up. Great food, a fascinating host, much fun, even a friend to hug at the bar.

We needed that. It was the tonic we needed.

We came home happy, slept well, and woke up full of ourselves.

I told Maria  I thought we had to catch up with ourselves a few days ago.

She loved the idea. We started sharing ideas right away.

Small changes often bring significant results.

St. Benedict was no slouch when it came to organizing lives; I’ve read every one of his seventy pages of ideas and rules. There’s much to learn there, even in his musty stiff writing.

First, we decided we needed to get to sleep earlier. When you end up dozing through the middle of a good mystery, the message for me is to go to bed early and watch them earlier, if at all.

This also makes it possible to get up earlier – the second change – in order to get to work while our energy is at its highest, and find ways to talk, talk, read, or meditate in the late afternoon. This means eating earlier also.

After a couple of days, we were both delighted and excited by the results. The early hours of the day set the tone and the pace, reduce anxiety about having enough time, and inevitably slow us down.

I’ve long understood that the way you start, the day makes or breaks the day. If you’re not careful, distractions, interruptions, and chores steal the best morning hours and put pressure on the whole day. The problem with pressure and anxiety for us is that it stifles creativity and drains off creative energy.

We now get between seven and eight hours of good, restful sleep (even with my grumpy sleep apnea mask). We are getting up between 6 a.m. and 6:30.

This means Maria can get a few hours of work in when she is most creative and energetic and have plenty of time for tending to the animals,  walks, farm chores, or a running start on her art.

There is always more work in the afternoon and evening if necessary.

Our blogs are sacred; we never cut corners on them.

I have always known the morning to be the best time for creative writing (and now photography). People always tell me how difficult it is to get old in America; they rarely tell me what they wish to do about it or how they might change to accommodate it rather than complain about it.

I don’t wish to throw my good life away or give it up because I am getting older.

Neither does Maria. And it isn’t necessary, certainly not yet.

St. Benedict wrote much about renewal, as does Merton, Chittister, and every great spiritual thinker.

I will keep the fear and reverence of God before my eyes even though I can’t worship him. I can come close enough.