Ants Marching and Aging

Ants Marching

I feel like my time in Mexico is always an invitation to take stock. No New Year’s resolutions, but a peaceful encounter with life as it is. A creative examination of what life can become. 

On our second day here we went to the Pickleball courts. To our amazement there were no other players on the courts. Things change and I rather enjoy the puzzle of figuring out why. At any rate, it was actually good for us to have a slow re-entry. The courts are right by the lake. It’s a beautiful place with big sky and lovely light. We practiced hitting balls, and sat, and then practiced some more. I soaked in the sunshine, continuing to urge my winter body to come to life. 

Then I looked down. Ants! Perfect, single file, marching, Carrying blossoms, and sticks to a crack in the court where we’ve been running around moments before. There’s always so much more to life than manages to find its way into my awareness. But there we sat. 

Remembering why we love this slower pace. We simply enjoy being here.  

Classic being instead of doing. Those ants are “doing” though. Wow. They are creating an underground world I can scarcely imagine. I guess we watched for 20 minutes. Steve on his hands and knees. There were those that stuck to marching the straight line, but there were also others who wandered about here and there. All of them eventually found their destination.

As I write this I remember a favorite Dave Matthews Band tune. “Ants Marching” from one of my favorite albums “Under the Table and Dreaming” 

It’s a brilliant song about people who don’t risk. Just march along doing the same things day after day. And sometimes find themselves under the kitchen table dreaming. I am definitely drawn toward dreaming. And I start giggling realizing I’m humming a tune and watching ants. The pelicans float above. I hear the peacocks calling to one another. And I just sit. Content.

And from Steve – Aging

There are lots of books on aging gracefully! What impresses me most is that several hundred years ago there were a lot fewer of us that were aging gracefully. Now there are millions of us who by age would now be considered elders. We are called elderly and they build special buildings to house and feed and exercise and care for us medically. For people that have a lot of medical issues or are lonely. It’s a god-send to have assistance and a smiling face.

A long time ago there was a category called elders. There were much fewer of those in number who made it into elder-hood. Elders were a defined part of a community and they and everyone knew their roles. They were holders of wisdom and compassion. They saw the big picture of life. They had been initiated by life’s trials, and when you counseled with them, they helped take the drama out of life and perhaps added some humor.

 For them life  was metaphorically like being at a movie theater. Once you’ve seen the light streaming from the projector, you begin to see consensus reality more as the light and images streaming from the projector and move on to more important things than the drama around this life. Things of the spirit have a bit more importance.  Words like love and gratitude and serenity hold value. 

When someone cuts me off driving in my car, I think …..they must be having a tough day. When I hear children, screaming and crying, I think ….. I’m glad there’s a mom who can help them see what they need. If I wake up grouchy and moody, I think …..maybe I’ll write a blog🎶🎶🎶

After reading one of these books on aging I have a few thoughts. It’s always good to hear different viewpoints, different voices,and different experiences. Still it is impossible to structure or capture the truth of aging. Every opinion, point of view, spiritual practice or strongly held belief calls on us to hold it for a while, and then let it go. We live in complete creative inner freedom. 

As an idealist I have learned that holding onto truth is a messy business, 

Letting go of truth opens you up to the mystery that this life holds.

“Happiness blooms naturally in the hearts of those who are inwardly free. It flows spontaneously like a mountain spring after April showers,in minds that are content with simple living. – – -Parmahansa Yogananda