7 October

Aging With Grace: Living In My Skin

by Jon Katz
Aging With Grace
Aging With Grace

I’m having the most interesting week, it is capturing so perfectly the twin elements of life, joy and sorrow. I am aging, and working to age with grace. Life does not always comply. This weekend,  our Open House, good and loving people heading here and into my town from everywhere to share  our lives, Maria aglow with a chance to swim in a world of art, a celebration of our work, our creativity, our life with animals.

Last week, I injured my back picking up a garbage can, one of those simple things you do a million times but all of a sudden pulls or twists something.  Getting older is much about that, things that used to work so well do not always work.

It is distancing, in a way, is aging. The young don’t care to know much about it and can’t understand what it feels like. The people who do understand too often talk and think of nothing else.

My back hurt  a lot, I walked like Quasimodo, I had the old man shuffle, my muscles were so sore and stiff, and I went to a massage therapist I admire very much, a healer and friend. How are you feeling, she asked?, as she always does, trying to get a sense of me. Well, I said, you know how it is when you get into your 60’s, I’m good but something hurts just about all of the time.

She looked sad, surprised, and she said, “oh  no, don’t say that, don’t talk like that. I don’t want to hear that.” I smiled,  she is much younger than I am, and I said “I’m not complaining, it’s just the truth.” Why can’t I say it? It is the truth. I’m living in my skin, and my skin is different.

Aging with grace is about that for me, truth and acceptance. I am living in my skin, I am okay with who I am and where I am. My right heel is causing me some pain, especially when I go out to work with Fate.

In the pasture, I cannot walk as quickly or easily as I did a few years ago, my legs are not as strong, they tire, they ache. My border race around like a shooting star, I feel a thousand years old around her.

I don’t care to dwell on my age, I don’t care to deny it either.

I am excited about this weekend, the Open Houses are an affirmation of our lives, they are exciting, fulfilling. These openings mark the passage of time, I am aware of the changes inside of me and outside of me. A year ago, I was fresh from open heart surgery, a great teacher of perspective.

What does it mean to age with grace? Sometimes it means being sad, sometimes if feels lonely, sometimes I do want to hide it from people.

Aging with grace means acceptance, not lament. Old age is viewed harshly in our culture, mostly as a costly journey into the nether realms of health care, poor health, memory loss, immobility, and then a long and usually tortuous death. That is really all we see of aging, all we talk about, all we see on television.

Aging with grace means considering how I wish to live, not in a world of retreat and diminishment, of lowered expectations, of fear and confusion. I live in hope, I live in change, I live in great expectation.

Aging with grace means learning how to love, and keeping the channels of love open every minute of every day. Aging with grace means stepping outside of myself. Everyone has a harder life than I do, I do not wish to sink into myself and shrink the boundaries of my work and feeling.

I am learning to respect myself – this is grace, in a way. People who are old are not often respected in our world, they are dismissed and discounted, expected to be invisible, take their pills, fight for their entitlements, go off into assisted care and die obediently. I think not. I am happy to turn away my senior discounts, they belong the young, who have no entitlements and brutal costs.

My week has two elements, sorry and  joy. It began in sorrow. I found myself trapped in a circle of anger and conflict, I could not avoid it, escape it, or join in it. I was not treated with respect, but with contempt and hostility. I felt abused, demeaned, assaulted, called ugly and painful names. It is an awful thing, really, to be treated with contempt, I am old enough to take it and deal with it. But it’s the body that ages, not always the mind.

Perhaps because I have experienced those things in my life,  I felt them all coming back into my world. Those old feelings of the five-year-old boy in the dark. I think they call it Post-Traumatic Stress, one of those cold media words for the echoes of trauma.

How curious a thing, that I could not see this coming, or avoid it, or even behave as I wanted to behave.  It is always a shock and surprise.

An awful feeling of helplessness, vulnerability, the old fear that haunted me for so much of my life, that I have worked so hard to overcome. I struggled with it for days, I thought it would overcome my week, darken it, weaken me for what I needed to do, distract me from the joy of it. And those old thoughts: if this could happen, it must be my fault, I must have done something wrong, feelings of shame and even terror. Did I behave badly? Did I fail to listen? To see? To empathize?

Part of aging with grace is the experience of having lived long enough to learn things, to know things. I don’t want to be smug about it, but I do know things, I can pass things on, share my wisdom, open up to learn more. I’ve seen a lot.

Aging with grace means accepting things. Like my imperfection and broken parts. It means being proud of the work I have done to heal and grow and face myself. To be grateful for the many good things that have flowed and are flowing into my life. Grandma Moses was right. Life is what you make of it, and I am making the most of it. I have never had so many things to be grateful for, not in all of my life.

The old ways of anger and fear were not going to be my life again, not even when I age, especially not then.

Okay, I said, you are on the path. How to get out of it? What have you learned? I went for a long walk with the dogs, I felt wise and strong and experienced, I have walked this walk before, I had the deepening well of life to draw nourishment from.  Pain, like anger, is a great teacher. What have I learned?, I kept asking myself, and I know now that the longer you live, the more you know, even if the world sometimes sees  you as less.

What do I know?

I know to not to waste a single minute of my precious time on fear and hatred.

I am living in my skin, I told myself. I am proud of me. I know I did the best I could, behaved in the best way I knew in life, got as far away from the rage and hurt as I could. On that walk, I felt reborn, in a way like a new bride, eager to present myself to the rest of my life, to be open to the good things that awaited me, to the crisis and mystery of life. To go on to the next thing.

Yes, it is the truth. I hurt every day. I love every day. There are so many more days behind me than ahead of me. There are so many good days ahead of me. How can I cherish every one, and make it meaningful? How can I continue to open the locked doors of love and friendship and trust inside of me?

That is up to me, not them. No one else can tell me who I am.

What have I learned? That this is life, joy and sorrow, crisis and mystery. I am so imperfect, so flawed.

I know that I do not need to know precisely what is happening, or where I am going. What I need to do is recognize the possibilities and challenges of the present moment, and to embrace them with faith, courage and hope. To not be swallowed up by the darkness.

Aging with grace.

 

7 October

The Gulleys, Ed And Carol

by Jon Katz
Ed And Carol Gulley
Ed And Carol Gulley

The Gulleys have been married a long time, they work very hard, every day all day, seven days a week, almost always side-by-side. They are dairy farmers, their work is brutal and endless. Ed finds time to work on his art, Carol takes care of the farm and cows, tends to her chlldren and grand-children. She and I went through cardiac rehab together and became fast friends. Our friendship has expanded, now it’s the four of us – me, Maria, Ed and Carol.

These two are a love story, one of those great love affairs, they care deeply about one another, share a great love of almost any kind of animal. Ed is a handful, he has his own ideas about the world, when Carol wants to get his attention, she calls him Edward, and he snaps to.

When the truck pulled in, Carol was laughing, she said she was laughing so hard she was in tears. The truck was filled with Ed’s junk art sculptures, and she said they felt like the Clampetts, so they started singing the theme to the “Beverly Hillbillies.” Carol started laughing every time she thought about it.

This weekend, their first art show, at our Open House.

7 October

“Drink Milk, Save A Cow”

by Jon Katz
Drink Milk, Save A Cow
Drink Milk, Save A Cow

There is an activist quality to Ed’s life and work, he is always trying to spread the message of farmers and farming. He gave me a long lesson on preserving and displaying the skull of a dead cow the other day. He prefers leaving the head of a dead cow near an anthill all summer, the ants do a good job. So does the sun and various chemicals Ed disdains.

The sign between the two cow skulls says “Drink Milk, Save A Cow,” Ed has his own notions of animal rights. The yellow wooden flowers that he carved and painted and put on a metal stand are Ed’s too, they seem perfect to me for a winter garden, or even a late Fall garden. I miss the color and light of the garden, maybe I can still have it. A perfect counterpoint to the winter pasture. The stands sell for between $75 and $100, depending on their size.

They will also be on sale at the Open House this weekend. We will have great things for animal lovers to enjoy, two of the big horses from Blue Star Equiculture are coming, so is our shearer (Saturday) and farrier (Sunday.) We are  happy to share these important rituals of farm life with you.

7 October

Turtles And Chairs From The Mind And Junk Of Ed Gulley

by Jon Katz
Turtles And Chairs
Turtles And Chairs

 

I liked Ed Gulley’s milk can chairs, the one on the right would make a great writing chair for me. It is surprisingly sturdy and comfortable, and if necessary, the can can be filled with dirt or rocks to be made even more sturdy.. It felt very good to sit in. I am much drawn to one of Ed’s turtle sculptures, made out of cannibalized tractor parts. He has a whole family of them. I think he could be happy in our yard, or in the muse corner of my study. Some people see metal at the junkyard, says Ed Gulley, “I see turtles.” The turtle is on sale for $125 at the Open House.

7 October

A Gifted “Junk Artist” Brings His Fertile Imagination To Us…

by Jon Katz
Ed Gulley's Work
Ed Gulley’s Work

Ed and Carol Gulley pulled into our farm this afternoon with a truckload of what Ed calls “Junk Art” to be shown and sold at the Open House. Ed is coming to talk about his art on Saturday and Sunday. He has a series of turtle sculptures , beautiful and colorful winter garden flower stands, shockingly comfortable and sturdy chairs with milk cans for bases and other inventive uses and sculptures that come from from some people think of as junk.

It’s a very different version of the kind of art Maria and the Gee’s Bend Quilters do, art made from materials that are discarded or that other people see as junk. Ed sees all kinds of characters and configurations in the detritus of a farm. He and Carol are dairy farmers, Carol and I met in cardiac rehab and became fast friends, now the four of us hang out together, laugh and talk about art.

Maria and I are both much impressed with Ed and his imagination. He is an artist, for sure, and he reinforces the notion that the creative spark is in all of us, sometimes the world conspires to keep it hidden. Carol is supportive of Ed, as Maria and I are supportive of one another.

I think encouragement is the fuel that keeps many creative spirits alive and working. Ed is a  fascinating character, a hard-working farmer, a great story-teller and without question, an artist. He did not need a gallery or an M.F.A. to make his art, and because he doesn’t let anyone tell him what to do, he is able to use his very fertile imagination in many different ways.

Ed has a healthy ego, but he is new to the idea of selling his creations as art. He doesn’t really expect to sell much of his art, but I think he will be pleasantly surprised. Is is fun, original, imaginative. And very inexpensive. I kidded Ed, this is his first show, the prices will be much higher next time.  I imagine people will love it. Ed is one those people – Maria is another – who sees things other people do not see. In the garbage and detritus of life, stuff most people never look at, Ed sees turtles, flowers, stick figures and surprising chairs.

He calls himself a “Junk Artist,” but we just call him an artist. Maria is very happy to be showing his work in the Open House, nothing makes her happier than to help discover a new artist with talent.

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