You Said It. I Quote It. Others Benefit.
How letting others have center stage changes lives, including mine.
My hands hurt. It’s not just the CMC arthritis in my thumbs, this dining room is damned cold at four am. I woke up an hour ago in the Mambo View Point Eco Lodge here in the Usambara Mountains. The deep valley below my huge, expansive-but-cold room is full of clouds.The bright full moon lights them and my way to the restaurant where I have access to the Internet.
It’s cold at six thousand feet plus. However, having spent fifty years in and around Denver, I love the high thin air, and it puts a bounce in my step as I bring my electronics, such as they are, to the dining room to work in the dark quiet. With any luck the dogs will visit and lick my face as I work and wait for the wait staff to arrive and make coffee. As I write, the night guard has started a big fire to take the chill off the room.
I live a pretty interesting life, but so do a lot of others.
I can’t speak for you, but I love finding smart, superb quotes that I can use in my articles, quotes from smarter folks than I am, quotes from Dear Reader who might not be a writer, but their lives are full of engaging stories. When they are willing to share how they live, it’s my delight to share that with you.
That’s my job, if I am to be of service. For the more we see people who are just like us in age, culture, creed, religion, etc. living out-loud lives, the easier it is for us to be inspired to make similar changes in our own lives.
Medium all too often suffers from the conceit of too many authors so terribly concerned with their (perceived lack of) importance and significance that, instead of going out and living, and then writing about it, they stoop to either plagiarizing others’ work or spending all their time talking about themselves. I can’t speak for you, but after a while that’s like having a dead fish on the dining room table on a hot day.
I prefer live fish, and those fish are too busy swimming and living to stoop to either quoting books to sound smart or writing about the same old, same old. We really do gotta get out and live, and when we do, we can inspire others to do the same. Call me stupid, call me crazy, but when we help others get off the couch and moving around the room, that’s a fine thing indeed. But that’s just me.
I am fortunate in that people share good material with me regularly, material which motivates me and also allows me to underscore the main points I most care about with you, Dear Reader. That variety, that kaleidoscope of otherness if you will, is one reason that I strongly believe that we both respect and value the inherent brilliance and wisdom of our audiences. They ARE smart. They DO live interesting lives. For my part, shifting the emphasis from barking at folks to be more like us because we make the mistake of thinking we’re all that to listening to, learning from and celebrating Dear Reader is what makes us better writers and servants to the larger collective good.
Hell. What do I know. I’m just some aging broad sitting at a wooden table in a cold dining room at six thousand feet in the Usambara Mountains, with freezing hands, waiting for coffee. When the sun is high enough, from the front door of my room which gazes out over those mountains, I will see Kilimanjaro in the far distance.
A mountain I stood on some years ago, at sixty. But that’s just me.
To my point, though. A few things that I got recently from Dear Reader that I want to share: First, from 69-year-old Harley rider (55 years in the saddle, honey) this morning:
…I met my fabulous husband on Match.com 19 years ago. He’s currently 78 and he still rides his motorcycle. Occasionally we consider giving into our age but then I remind him it’s just a number. He’s actually healthier than me. I have some minor aggravating issues that I cope with. On bad days I comfort myself and on good days we ride. I truly think it’s a matter of when a person decides to give in to old age. I’m not ready to be old. At this point I’m going to just keep on truckin’ and keep on riding until I absolutely physically cannot. I’m hopeful that when this crazy, stupid Covid is over we can extend our adventures to traveling overseas. But for now we will hunker down in north Florida in the winter and camp and ride the Blue Ridge mountains in North Georgia and North Carolina in the summer. “Life Is Good” Peace Out.- Sandy Varble Rotino
And also from Pam O'Donnell (I did ask permission but haven’t heard back, but look, this is too good not to share, hope she doesn’t mind):
…I have been doing yoga/stretching and walking, lots of walking for 10 + years. Oh yeah, and squats and upper body weight lifting, too. I see people of all ages (mine is 57) who can’t do half of what I do, including your deep squat, grab your keys and rise quickly, heavy pack or not. I’m asked how do I stay so fit and lean and when I say I work out everyday, people are so disappointed. I think they want to hear about my magic pill. lol (author bolded)
From Gary Johnstone:
…I just got back from climbing mountains and cycling round Scotland. I’m 62 and never felt stronger. I love Johnathan Sullivan’s book The Barbell Prescription: Strength Training for Life After Forty. He says ageing is an extreme sport and we need to train for it. Love his wit. (author bolded)
From regular and uber-cheerful commenter Bruce Murray:
Sometimes seniors get the feeling that they should slow down. I wear a tracker and walk further than most people. But I’m retired and I have all day to walk so ten miles is easy. I also climb stairs.
Walk! Climb! Bend over! For seniors it’s our last chance to have fun! (author bolded)
Sandy, who wrote me earlier this week, said that she trains for the slides, not the rides.
Look. That phrase might well be common in the riding community but I’ve never heard it before, and that’s the whole point. Each of us brings a wealth of experience and perspective from our widely varying lives to this mix, and when we share everyone benefits. This inherent wisdom comes from life, being in life, and pushing our limits.
The phrase speaks to how I train. I know I will injure, and I also know that when I injure, or need to heal from surgery, that training will support swift healing. That’s the point. When I was a very active skydiver, the same thinking holds true: if you jump long enough, you will have a total malfunction. If you cycle long enough, you will come off your bike. You ride horses long enough, you will get tossed ass over teakettle.
You do anything long enough, you will have accidents, because that’s life.
My main chute failed twice. I’m still here. I came off my bike and crashed my head into the pavement. I’m still here. My horse threw me at the full gallop in Kazakhstan; broke my back in eight places. Still here. All that happened after fifty-five. I train for the slides, not the rides.
If that isn’t a fundamental metaphor for life, I’m not sure what is.
My readers make me a better writer. You cannot ask for a better gift.
Again, I can’t speak for you. But to Pam’s point, above, there is no magic pill. You train to be in life, you can be in life. HOW you wanna be in life is up to you. All I care about is that you start.
Just bloody well start. The more time you and I spend being jealous or angry about someone else’s epic life the more time we’ve wasted training for our own.
And when you have a story to tell, share it with me, and it’s likely I’ll share it with others. Because that is how we build community, lift each other up and as Bruce Murray points out, are able, as seniors, to take advantage of our last great chance to have fun.
