Aging is a Jungle walk, and it is a jungle we do not know. We are on a narrow, difficult trail where each step takes us deeper into the unknown. Still, we cannot go back. There is only enough light on our path so we do not lose the way forward. Danger lurks on all sides and in front of us, so we dare not fall and cannot stop. This is my picture of aging.
On the other hand, we have hiked, biked, camped, and traveled to many parts of the world and loved those challenges and mysteries. This aging experience is unlike any we have ever had, and nothing we have thus far experienced is cause for joy. Examples abound: We cannot drive and have no wheels, which makes us dependent on our dear and caregiving friends. We are blessed when we have no pain. Our eyes are going bad, our ears, even with hearing aids, are lousy, and the possibility of falling anytime and anywhere increases tenfold. And never forget, falling results in trauma, which is to be avoided as we age.
So, when I write that our aging experience is a dangerous walk in a jungle where dangers lurk on every side of the path we trod, I know this. Because I am walking it with a host of other aging people. I witness them aging and eventually dying. Of course, they must be witnessing this with us.
The interesting thing is that although it sounds scary and might be to others of this aging group, it does not scare or worry us. Today we are here, and one day we won’t. So, while the end does not worry us, the journey does. We do not want or seek pain or discomfort, but avoidance may be impossible. Thinking one lives with it through drugs and various other means is not an answer. Trust me when I write this.
The jungle is dark—Walking is not what it was—The path chooses us
Sy
