No. 22 On aging and identity

I am now officially more than halfway through my forties. When asked how I feel about getting older, although I may joke about being 29 and holding, I absolutely love it. As we age we know more about ourselves and our purpose in life. We continue to learn and grow and come more fully into ourselves. So I look forward to more years and continuing this journey of discovery. I hope you'll come along with me for there are so many cups of tea ahead!

Serenity

Our identity is forged through time, influenced by our environment, our responses, and our actions. When I ask, "Who are you?" what is your response? Are you your name, your profession, your relationships, your passions, your essence, your consciousness? Are you all of these or something else? I've shifted some of my perspective on identity thanks to the conversation between Shane Parrish of The Knowledge Project podcast and Maya Shankar, a cognitive scientist and the creator, executive producer, and host of the podcast A Slight Change of Plans. In their discussion, Ms. Shankar talks about her research on identity and the potential power in switching from identifying with what we do to why we do it. She posits that suffering comes from anchoring our identity in the what: where the response to "Who are you?" Looks like "I am a mother / grandparent / brother / nurse / teacher / [fill in career or status]." This anchoring might block us from opportunities leading to a better fulfillment of ourselves. We might stay in a job that is stifling or be closed off to new pastimes because we identify with being the thing we do. People expect it of us, and it can be uncomfortable to explain a shift away from that doing. So I love Ms. Shankar's idea to instead identify with why we do the things. Then, as we age and grow, the path can be straight or winding, direct or forked, and whichever way we go, our identity can simply tag along, morph and evolve as our purpose inevitably does. We more easily change careers, explore new creative pursuits, or follow any number of opportunities. So, who am I? I am a someone who believes we could live in a kinder place if everyone felt more at peace, even if only for the time it takes to make a cup of tea. Who are you?

Perseverance

Aging is getting up, making tea, doing the things, making more tea, doing more things, resting, and repeating. It's gathering grey hairs like trophies of wisdom and wrinkles like souvenirs of mirth. It's coming to know deep sorrow and greater joy. It's learning to let go of that which does not serve us. It's wearing the fancy clothes to the grocery store and dancing in our favorite shoes. It's persevering. It's drinking the good tea. It's coming to know who we are and where we are going—or deciding we're already there.

Well-being

According to David Sinclair of Harvard University, the first person to live to 150 years has already been born. Through technology, knowledge, and, one would think, good decisions, we are increasingly able to keep our bodies and minds youthful for much, much longer. Today, we know many of the components required to maintain our well-being into our 8th, 9th, and even 10th decades: community, healthful eating, activity, creativity, and purpose. These are all common characteristics of "blue zone" life. They are also characteristics of a tea lover's life. Won't you join me in reaching for a cup of tea and a little longevity? Or perhaps we should say longeviTEA!

One more thing...

When you see me sitting quietly,
Like a sack left on the shelf,
Don’t think I need your chattering.
I’m listening to myself.
Hold! Stop! Don’t pity me!
Hold! Stop your sympathy!
Understanding if you got it,
Otherwise I’ll do without it!
When my bones are stiff and aching,
And my feet won’t climb the stair,
I will only ask one favor:
Don’t bring me no rocking chair.
When you see me walking, stumbling,
Don’t study and get it wrong.
‘Cause tired don’t mean lazy
And every goodbye ain’t gone.
I’m the same person I was back then,
A little less hair, a little less chin,
A lot less lungs and much less wind.
But ain’t I lucky I can still breathe in.

- Maya Angelou, On Aging