“If I don’t see you through the week, See you through the window. See you the next time we’re talking on the phone,

And if I don’t see you in that Indian summer, then I want to see you further down the road...” Van Morrison, Celtic New Year.

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Near-death is an eye-opener, a life changer, a sobering thing.

It can be a frightening thing, a good thing, a pity me story, or an opening. It’s up to me how I describe it.

Every sign of change in me, the things I fear the most to lose, is not just a loss but a call to a new beginning, including illness, trauma, and the trials of aging.

If I can’t walk long distances anymore, then I must find something else to do that I love just as passionately and learn from just as profoundly. If my body is slowly failing me, as it will all of us, I need to search for what enriches and enlightens me.

I want to use every day to grow and add meaning to my life. Fear is a space to cross and a waste of time.

I am determined to avoid the disheartening old talk of older people and our greedy and selfish culture  – we can’t afford to fall at our age.

We can afford anything life hands us; that’s the deal. We have no choice.

Old talk becomes death talk, a prophecy draining the spirit, erasing hope and ambition, giving in to a world that seeks to hide or forget us.

At what age can we afford to fall? Abandoning life before it is over is not just weakness and surrender; it is a sin by any definition.

For me, this is a time for gaining, not losing.

It might be reading new authors, writing new journals, taking flower photos, taking more photography lessons, taking shorter walks,  making new friends, and delving deeply into a passion. It might be helping the Mansion residents to navigate the end of their lives and help the refugee children adapt to their raucous new country.

It might be discovering new artists and singers, learning a new language to expand my work with the refugees, or spending more time as a hospice volunteer and learning what I need to know about death. It might be growing in creativity, if not bone strength.

It might be loving and being loved.

Creativity is not bounded by age.

A good marriage does not just happen; it takes work and thought, and I will re-dedicate myself to supporting my wonderful wife and encouraging her life and her work. What a rich legacy that would be.

I might join my many elders, sit and watch the birds at the feeder outside my study window, and take their portraits. Their faces are full of life and wisdom.

I might take some breaths, find some silence, and take some time to think. It’s a time to savor life, not complain about it.

It’s time to pay more attention to the part of me that is more than the physical and free of the physical. The physical part is beyond my control. I accept it.

I have so much work to do on my spiritual ambitions that I have not yet done; the possibility of that excites me much more than walking up a hill.

I promise myself that this part of my life is not about what I can no longer do but what I can and can do better.

This year, my writing and photography have leaped forward as I work to understand how to be a better human, husband, and friend. As I grow older, I open up and grow like a poppy, bobbing up and down in the wind and seeing the world differently daily.

Next is the great adventure, death. But not yet; the truth is that I am so much more than my body; it has taken me a lifetime to learn that. The mind and soul have their ideas about getting older; they are much more than my body.

My blog is central to my life, an expression of my evolving soul, and I will re-dedicate myself to it, find ways to improve it, and make it a  haven for the people who live for love and meaning, not grievance and hatred. The blog is my gateway and my guide, and it helps me know who I am and who I wish to be.

This is a time of ethics and morals. I am obliged to be active, to stay as healthy as possible, to respect my body, and to seek to enrich the lives of the people around me.

The challenge of aging well is to find the spiritual strength to confront my fears so that my life can continue to become more than it was. In many ways, aging is about coping with the anxiety of weakness. The task is not to fear the fear.

Age is a time of spiritual obligations, and my foremost duty is to age well to stand for courage, kindness, and spiritual depth.

That sounds good to me and well worth living for.