10 November

My 10-Point “Creative Aging” Manifesto, Tedx Talk Montclair/ 11/9/2013

by Jon Katz
The Ted Talk Manifesto
The Ted Talk Manifesto

 Delivered to Ted Talk x/Montclair, Montclair State University, November 9, 2013

Aging is not about one thing but many things, some of the beautiful, some of them painful and humbling.

There is a lot of pressure in America on people who are growing older, we are told – never asked – all the time to accept things that will keep us alive and healthy forever, without thought, at any cost, without choice, we are bombarded with warnings and cautions, and when that idea of eternal life and health falls to the earth, as it inevitably must, we are blamed for not being able to figure out how to afford the life that was chosen for us by others. I have been a hospice volunteer for six years, and I have never met a patient who died regretting that he or she had not made more money or bought more long-term health insurance or had a fatter IRA account.

Io can be lonely growing older in America. We have few mirrors in which to guide us or see our own reflections. We are on our own.

Those of us who are beginning to be old, who are already there, are not a demographic the marketers seek. As a result, we have vanished from the popular culture, you will not hear our voices on television or see our faces in you follow the news, read magazines, look at the ads, go to the movies. In those depressing novels from Brooklyn, we are mostly doddering and sexless old fossils, withering expensively on the vine.

So I am learning to be creative and positive and strong about getting older, I am getting older in a different way. I have written my own manifesto, my first ever, I keep it in my Iphone, I read it it when it is necessary to give me strength, to remind myself who I am, not why they tell me I am.

When you fall in love with your  own life, your own heart, life will clap for you.

**

How to Get Older In America: A Manifesto By Jon Katz

1. I will never downsize my mind or my life, I will never cease to be open to life. A closed mind is the first and saddest death, the death of the mind.

2. I will never complain about the young and talk about how they are not as hard-working, thoughtful or responsible as I was at their age, I will never talk about the good old days, they were never really all that good, I am not here to turn back the clock.

3. My life is not about my health, that is not my currency, my dialogue with the world, my wife, my friends. That is not what defines me. I do not discuss my health with strangers, I do not greet them by asking them about their health, I do not define myself by tests and procedures, my life bounded by visits to the pharmacy. I will decide what health means to me, not some numbers in a blood test,  not some pharmaceutical or insurance company or government agency.

4. I embrace and accept new technologies, new realities, not as unwanted intrusions, but as the parade of change that defines a fulfilled life at any age. Nostalgia is a trap, our lives what we make of them each day. So I have a blog – www.bedlfarm.com. I do podcasts, I take videos. I meet my readers where they are, not where they used to be or I wish they were. My blog is my face in the mirror, my message to the world. Three years ago, at age 63, I re-married in the old barn on the farm I bought when I was 57 years old. I was beginning life anew. I found love.

At my wedding, I read from the poet Mary Oliver’s great anthem, “Mornings At Blackwater.”

So come to the pond,

or the river of your imagination,

and the harbor of your longing,

and put your lips to the world,

And live your life.”

5. I do not apologize for growing older, I know where I am and what I can and cannot do, growing old in America is not a shame, a dark cloud hanging over my head. I am proud of my life, of where I am, there is so much dignity in growing old. Growing old is not the time of apology, it is the age of wisdom. We have nothing to lose by being authentic, we are approaching the night.

6. I will not trade a full life now for an empty life later. I will not permit others to define my life in exchange for money. I will not live a life cast in fear and built on the cruel illusion of security. There is none in this world, not outside of ourselves.

7. I joyously delight in refusing to accept 15 cent senior discounts on coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts or $1.10 off my birdseed at the hardware store. I am happy to tell the teen-aged cashiers that I can afford a cup of coffee and a bag of seed, if they really care about me, then please give my discount to young people with children, they are in greater need. I am not a worthy cause.

8. I approach growing older with acceptance, not denial, with grace, not avoidance, with the embrace of the new, not withdrawal and retreat. Joseph Campbell cautions that you better know where you are in life when the mask comes off. And isn’t that what growing older is really all about? The mask comes off, and for good. We don’t need it anymore.

Fear is a ghost, you can put your finger right through his heart.

9. I am living a meaningful life without much money, I will die a meaningful death with thought and strength. I do not have long-term health insurance. How I died is another way of determining  how I have lived. And whose choice is this, if not mine?

And finally, and perhaps most importantly, I will tell you this, straight from the heart:

10: Do not ever give up on love, even when everyone and everything around you conspires to make you believe it is lost to you and can never be found again. That is the death of the soul, the body left just a hollow shell.

Crisis and mystery are just around the corner, always. So are love and joy.

Thank you for listening to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30 April

Aging Into Consciousness: This Is The Moment, In Love Lies Sanity.

by Jon Katz
The Gift Of Life

We must be wiling to get rid of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us. The old skin has to be shed, before the new one can come.”  – Joseph Campbell.

I have learned that life is always going to be sorrowful, it will always end in exactly the same way, and for everyone. Loss is the one thing we will all share, there is no left or right to loss, it is not a choice or an argument. We can’t change that, but we can change our attitude about it. And if we wish to lead a meaningful life, and know the peace of the soul, we must try.

Whatever we each believe, death binds us all together. There is no argument to change it.

A thoughtful man named Darryl came up to me at the Battenkill Bookstore today while I was signing books and said his wife had forced him to look at the Ted Talk I gave in Montclair, N.J., a couple of years ago. I remember that talk well, it was the first time I had returned to Montclair, the town where I had lived with my first wife for more than 20 years.

I had not set foot there once since my divorce, it was – is – a painful place for me.

The night before the Ted Talk I spent the all night throwing up in a hotel toilet. I was groggy when I gave the talk, and uncharacteristically nervous. I am at ease speaking in public, I  almost always feel it is just where I belong.

But not that day, I felt it was the last place I wanted to be.

This talk was rough, but still,  it was important to me, it was a manifesto on aging, a chance for me to challenge the awful ways in which older people are made to think about themselves. I hated the idea of the downsizing of life, and the way aging is seen only as a loss and sacrifice.

In my experience aging had been a time of great liberation, not just the surrender of life, as our culture seems to see it. A time to let go of some awful and heavy baggage. I no longer had to prove anything to anyone but me.

I was pleased that a horde of young people came rushing up to me after the talk and thanked me for talking about the promise of life and love, they had never heard anyone say that before about getting older. I was glad I gave the talk, I never heard much about it afterwards, it is rarely mentioned to me. Not too many people wish to hear about it or talk about it.

Darryl said he enjoyed the talk, it was the first time he also had ever heard anyone talk of growing older as anything other than a horror and the end of a true life. Our culture demonizes aging and focuses on the difficult questions of mortality, and then, death. Darryl was getting older, I could see, and he admitted to being frightened about it.

And I don’t blame him, aging is now a huge business in the Corporate Nation, a lot of people profit from it in different ways, but very few of them are old. Too often, I see older people who are prisoners of a system, not beneficiaries.

For me, growing older has been a time of tremendous growth and change, of a rich burst of creativity – my blog, my photography, my books – and of the discovery of true love and of love-making, which people my age are often portrayed as having abandoned.

You will never see an older person making love in a movie or television, show, that is considered disturbing and offensive.

If you look at older people in movies, books (we have vanished from TV and magazines, older people are always portrayed as sad and grim, disintegrating and incoherent and mournful. The portrayal of aging in America is one of the great creative failures of the young.)

For me, it is a good time, perhaps the best time.  Getting old is hard in some ways, but then, so is being young. The truth is life is hard, we all suffer, we all have battles to fight.

Joseph Campbell wrote that one great thing about growing old is that nothing is going to lead to anything.

This is a time of great liberation, everything is of the moment. For the first time in my life, I have nothing to want, strive for, or fear other than the obvious – there can’t be all that much time left for me.

Now,   a time of teaching, mentoring, helping others, passing along what I have learned to those who wish to learn from it.

We have finally learned something about ourselves and the world around us, it is a time to accept ourselves, shed the hoary burdens and obligations of life (especially male life) and think of those who will follow this. I am learning every day.

We have no time for silliness like hatred and conquest and cruelty and envy. We know how to laugh at the world and shake our heads. We’ve seen it all before.

This new chapter, this idea I have about caring for others as well as for me,  is a profound and sacred responsibility, perhaps the most important work I have ever undertaken. It is no longer a response, it seems to be who I am.

Erich Fromm wrote in his book “The Sane Society,”  that love is not a passive abstraction but an active responsibility.

“If I love” he wrote, “I care, that is, I am actively concerned with the other person’s growth and happiness, I am not a spectator. I am  responsible…”

He wrote about the need to love ourselves at any age.

Self love, he writes, is the opposite of selfishness. Loves makes us more independent, because it make us stronger and happier. In the experience of love lies the only answer to being human, in the experience of love lies sanity.

I reject the conventional American idea of aging, it is demeaning and small, like Old Talk. At Our Age.

It literally shrinks life rather than expands it, is a construct created by feckless culture and corporate greed – aging, sickness and death are immensely profitable, and the last thing the corporate world wants to see are older people running towards love and life and health, rather than away from them.

Nuts to them, I am a warrior for life, and love can come at any age once the heart is open to it. I’m not spending my last years living only to give money to people who care nothing for me and offer me only emptiness and sorrow.

I was doing my daily self-analysis this morning in the pre-dawn dark, as Maria slept soundly, as she always does, damn her, and I realized that the past few months has opened yet another new chapter for me, one I am very excited about and comfortable with.

Donald Trump started it, his election shook me and I realized I can no longer sustain the conceit of being indifferent to and detached to politics and values. I had to change and define my beliefs and go out and try to pursue  and advance them.

I had to do good, I realized,  rather than join the mobs of people arguing about what is good.

But that response  is changing.

In recent days, I have begun to detach from the great Trump debate raging around the country and which has swallowed the media whole and hypnotized millions of people, many of them now addicted to confrontation and manipulation. It is not about him any longer.

President Trump and the media he professes to hate have become co-dependent, a condition I know and recognize all too well from my own life.  I am sad but content to let them do their Tango together, until one or both drop from exhaustion and overexposure.

Neither can endure, there is nothing nourishing there, and they have already  becomes insufferable bores. Let them eat one another.

I don’t have a great number of years to live, one way or another, and I will not spend them clicking on my Iphone or Ipad 100 times a day to see how much time  broken and greedy and ambitious men and women can do to one another. I would rather use my life and my meager gifts to so some good.

There are not too many things I control, but one of them is my decision about how to life the rest of my life.

After November, I called for an Army of Good to form around my blog and work, and it did, and it has been a transformative experience for me. We have helped farmers, the elderly, refugees and immigrants, we have raised tens of thousands of dollars and bought soccer uniforms, trips to amusement parks, flowers and art supplies, blankets and towels and prayer rungs, flowers, boomboxes, printers, paintings,  even a van.

We are grounding one another.

This effort is no longer a political statement for me, and has little or nothing to do now with Washington politics, which are unbearable to most rational beings. We shall all survive the left and the right.

But I am happy and engaged, relevant and effective. I am reluctant to write this in a way, it seems boastful, but it is also true, and I need to write the truth, I have nothing to lose any longer by lying or failing to see who I am.

I am learning that the best way to help mankind is to better myself. I can never make myself perfect, but I can make myself better every day.

So my life is not about what others think now, but  about the moment. About my time.  And I am more committed to it, beyond the grisly dance in Washington.

I find this new work suits me, fits me, lifts me up, informs and inspires my work, gives me focus and purpose, and sparks my creativity in new and powerful ways. It has even deepened the love Maria and I have for one another, it is another thing for us to share.

My little blog, my creative companion as I begin to be old,  has never been more satisfying or meaningful to me, has never had more views and readers, has never been so powerful and wide-reaching. It is not little any more, it has reach and power, it is growing up.

The animals here are my Greek Chorus, watching, shaking their heads, demanding attention and perspective.

My readers are scattered everywhere, all over the country, from coastal cities to the rural and heartland interior I love to write about. We are bound together on a Great Adventure, one I never imagined just a few months ago.

And that is the thing about life, and even about aging.

Every time I think I know who I am, I see there is more to come, crisis and mystery is just around the corner. I told Darryl that none of us can hide from death or from the drama of aging. But getting older isn’t just about dying.

It is also about being born again, and we can do that at any age. That is not up to them, it is up to us.

This is the moment.

 

4 February

My Ted Talk Is Up: My First Manifesto – “Don’t Ever Give Up On Love.”

by Jon Katz
My Ted Talk
My Ted Talk

When I was asked to do a Ted Talk last fall, I said no, I am happy with my books and blog, I don’t feel the need to speak to the wider world, although that sometimes happens, even on the blog. When I thought about it, I realized there was something I wanted to say to the world, and it wasn’t really about my books or about animals or dogs or rural life. I wanted to talk about how tto live one’s life in a world increasingly dominated by fear, money and conflict.

I wanted to talk about what I called “Creative Aging,” I sat down and wrote a 10-point manifesto, my first ever about how strongly I feel that aging ought not to only be viewed in the prism of physical decline, long-term health insurance, health care and medicines. Aging is about many things, it is a challenging and important time, it is also a wondrous time full of humor, wisdom, experience and connection. So I gave my Ted Talk about that, and it went up on You Tube a few minutes ago, it will soon be loaded onto the main Ted Talk website. It already had 1,000 views before I even knew about it. You can see it here.

I was sick the day I gave the Ted Talk, I think it was stress really, it was the first time I had returned to Montclair, N.J. since my divorce – I lived there for 25 years. I was up all night, I didn’t sleep for a minute. It felt good to give the talk, I got a standing ovation afterwards. Anyway, here it is, my message to the world about growing older in a meaningful way. I think the biggest lesson I learned about growing older is that it doesn’t have to be a time of downsizing, living smaller, thinking smaller, it can be a time of wonderful growth and expansion. It required me to ignore almost every single thing the culture was telling me about aging, and it was a lonely process in some ways.

Older people have vanished from our culture, except in ads for sexual stimulants. Marketers don’t like people who don’t have many years of buying power. So I decided to live my own story about getting older, and I wanted to share it. I hope it has some meaning for others.

Don’t ever give up on love.

12 December

Creative Aging. Stop Getting Animals? Hmmm…Maybe Not.

by Jon Katz
Getting Animals
Getting Animals

I ran into a friend I haven’t seen awhile at the dentist’s a couple of weeks ago, we stood in the parking lot and caught up a bit. I asked her if she were planning to lamb this Spring and she got a very somber and serious look, and said, “oh, no I don’t think it’s right to bring any more animals into our lives that might outlive us.” She looked quite grave. Really, I said, Maria and I were lambing in the Spring and thinking about getting goats. Then I realized what she was really saying, she was in her 60’s and expected to die before any of the lambs.

When I told her that I intended to lamb, even at my advanced age, she looked at me uncomfortably, as if I were about to beat a kitten with a stick. I might have included this in my “Creative Aging Manifesto,” part of my Ted Talk being edited right now. There is this very somber idea about aging – my friend must have said a dozen times, “you know we aren’t getting any younger,” “we need to face reality” – that suggests it is time to begin slipping away from life, even before you leave it.

And, she added, shaking her head sorrowfully, her dogs were getting older too.

My friend is roughly my age and I told her that I have no intention of abandoning my writing and life with animals because I am getting older. Nuts to that, I thought, I know where I am, for one thing Maria is younger than I am, but for another I can always make plans for the animals in case something happens to me or us – Maria and I have talked about that. Animals have provided great life, work and health and connection for me. And it’s a good idea, if something happened to both of us, our friends ought to know where to bring the animals in our lives.

For me, a life with animals is all about life, not death. Farm chores keep me very active and busy and engaged. So does sheepherding with Red. And walks with the dogs. And wrestling with sheep. And brushing and doing Tai Chi with donkeys. They provide me with many gifts, from photography to my books. I don’t speak ill of my age, or apologize for it. I never say “we aren’t getting any younger” or “at our age.” My age is my age, and apart from sore knees and chilled bones in the winter, it does not define me, I am writing more than ever, taking more photos than ever, I have plans for a bunch more books.

I do not live in denial about my age, I am aware of it, I am much closer to the end but the beginning, but I will not close life off to me because the culture around me has turned getting older into a capitalist race for health care, IRA’s and medicines.  I will downsize my life when I must, not when the world beyond thinks it’s a good idea.One day I’ll be lying in bed, propped up on pillows, Maria will be reading me short stories, Red will be gray and wobbly, lying at my feet, Lenore will be curled up in a ball by my toes. I don’t see animals out of my life when I picture it.

Animals have brought me love, health and connection, work and stimulation, creativity in every imaginable way. I do not choose to reduce my life with them to an insurance adjuster’s calculation of now many years I am like to live before they die. I told my friend that I did not wish to give up life now for somebody else’s idea of life down the road. I didn’t think she liked hearing it.

We each have our own stories. She has hers, I have mine.

2 December

P.O. Box 205: From North Carolina, Ghost of Rose, Language Of Aging

by Jon Katz
Language Of Aging
Language Of Aging

I went to my Post Office Box 205 today (P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816) to get my paper mail, and there were actually more messages for me than Maria or Minnie! One beautiful letter was from Dave Holley in Burlington, North Carolina, who sent me a postcard he had purchased of the border collie Rose, in a snowstorm, one of my favorite photographs of this wonderful creature. This storm inspired my novel, “Rose In A Storm.” It seemed as if Rose had come to visit me, I have never seen her here before, not even in my imagination.

“Here it is!,” Dave wrote, “the last one of my carefully hoarded note cards. What better place for it, then to just “send it home.” I thank you that that, Dave, it was nice to see Rose, it did choke me up for a second or two, I will always remember the day that photo was taken, the snow was so blinding and deep I could not get hay up to the Pole Barn and the sheep would not come down through the deepening drifts. I kept slipping and falling into the snow. Rose came up behind me, she always had this telepathic sense about her work and what I needed.  I send Rose up to get them, and she disappeared into the snow as she battled her way up, and suddenly, as I knew would happen, the sheep came thundering down to the feeder, Rose behind them, using the path she had forged with her body, that day and the next few days.

There were some lambs up in the barn, I’m not sure they would have all made it without Rose. She always got it done, she touched the hearts of so many people.

Dave told me very kindly that my thoughts and writings have brought him to a new realization:

“That, even in the face of advancing age and faltering health, there is yet, still, time and opportunity to each day, to try to become a better person. I believe I have achieved some measure of success in that goal.”

That is a wonderful message Dave, it seems to me from reading your note that you have, you are a brave man with a good heart, it is an honor to get a letter from you. I had one thought reading yours, and that is this: it is so important to consider the language of life, the way we see ourselves, the lessons we learn from the outside world that make us apologize for ourselves, make us sorry for living. We are all growing older, our health is faltering from the time we are teenagers on.

I’m not sure what faltering health means, I do not ever refer to myself as being of advanced age, or of faltering health, your letter is the personification of health to me. I hope you never speak ill of your life, or diminish it. In exchange for your letter, I am sending you my Creative Aging Manifesto, part of my Ted Talk to be released soon. When we apologize for ourselves, this enters our consciousness and that of the people who know us and talk to us. Your health is private, personal, it is up to you to define it. Our culture has given us no healthy language for aging, but language is important, it is identity.

I am in my 60’s now, things hurt, I give myself several insulin shots a day. I consider myself to be healthy. I love my life, every day of it, that is health to me. I have learned to never speak poorly of my life. I appreciate your message, thanks so much for it.

And thanks for writing me at my Post Office  Box, P.O. Box 502, Cambridge, New York, 12816.

 

Bedlam Farm