In most older societies, the elderly are revered and are often considered the only ones fit to rule. They are believed to have accumulated wisdom and experience, can be trusted with good judgment, and have the benefit of years to show younger members of their communities how to live when they are gone.

Our modern society sees it differently. People my age are labeled invisible, weak, costly, and confused. There’s nothing to see here; younger people look right through you when you age, and people drive right by.

You, people my age, are understandably preoccupied with sickness, drugs, and the reality of approaching death.

It’s natural for older people to accept their expectations of us – stay home, get to assisted care or Florida, and be quiet.

Most of us follow the script and are expected to be invisible, vanished from our movies, music, and public life, especially those of us who are not billionaires or too old to be buying things for years,  the favorite targets of corporate America – people with years and years of purchase power.

In general, older people in our culture are targets of no one but retirement homes and pharmaceutical corporations. Old talk is the crippling language of the aging. “At our age….” The expectations of us shrink and shrink. They keep us alive for too long and give us nothing to do.

I decided not to be invisible; I won’t accept that outcome. I will die like everyone else, but not that way if I can help it. And to my surprise, I can.

I keep alive and visible through my blog, photography, animals, wife, and new role as an independent philosopher. I have a voice, and I want it heard. People message me with their ideas; they are hungry for ideas. I have ideas, and I want them to be shared. I don’t aspire to be a wise man; this figure of elderly wisdom has no name in our society.

Most people find their gurus on the Internet, TikTok, and social media. These Influencers are essential.

Many philosophers in the new culture have enormous followings; most are in their teens or twenties.

In Judaism, a wise and aging figure is called the taddik, “the righteous one.” Nobody has ever called me that. I am not that.

In Hinduism, the one who embarks on the spiritual quest in old age is called the sanyasi, the legendary seekers of the final great pursuit.

In Buddhism, the bodhisattva is the person who chooses to work for the enlightenment of the rest of the world. They embody the best any culture can offer and symbolize what it means to become better people as we age. People travel many miles to hear them.

I do not consider myself a wise old philosopher seer. I don’t care to tell other people what to do; I see myself as just learning how to live and what it means to be human. But I intend to talk about it, write about it, and photograph it.

I’ve never been invisible, often to the frustration and even anger of others. I was supposed to retire from the world, get a warm condo, and hang around with my granddaughter. Nothing is wrong with those things, but they are not my choice. I am just beginning to live and see a little, but to be honest, a little of me is in all those wizards – the weathered old medium between the wizards and the spirit world.

-In my blog and rumination columns.

-I work with people in need, such as immigrants, older people, and the Cambridge Food Pantry. They listen to me

-My photography is a spiritual experience that touches people needing calm and beauty.

-In my animals and their spiritual work for me and others.

-With my wife, a love that challenges me to be a better man and to respect and support my wife and partner.

-In my ruminations and contemplations that challenge me to be a better human and pass along what I am learning to others. I am no ancient prophet; I am just beginning to understand what it means to be human.

Aging allows me to use my life to be a better person. There is significant meaning in that. And I am not invisible.

Spiritual author Joan Chittister writes that in these other cultures, there is an understanding that in the older generations, there is insight often lacking in the younger ones. However, the younger ones are usually uninterested and don’t see what they want or need in older people.

They live in an intense culture that older people can’t grasp.

When I think about it, she is right. The younger generations are learning different things. Their lives move almost too fast to think, and they are often too distracted to learn. My life and philosophy have changed so much that I am unsure what I have become. Older adults’s philosophy is not interesting to them.

My place in this world depends on my persistence. I understand this persistence.

I won’t disappear or accept being dismissed as useless and too costly to care about. I have things to say, things I have learned, and things I am just now beginning. Nothing but death will stop me from pursuing that meaning. Persistence may not change anything, but people like Chittister believe it is more faithful to the meaning of life for us to wait for another plowing, seeding, or harvest than not.

People can laugh and jeer – many have – or they can listen, share, and learn – many have.

Whatever you believe, I have pledged to keep thinking, talking, and sharing.

Many people don’t like this. They think I am stepping out of place, daring to caution and challenge people who have little respect for philosophers, young or old, and have been made cynical and unhappy to be challenged.

But isn’t that what cranky old philosophers have done for centuries? They stay visible. I’m never going to be invisible. I’m just no good at it.