Reflections from BotanicWise #3: Excited to be old

I spent three hours furiously typing away three different blogs after coming back from the BotanicWise conference. The creative juices were flowing, albeit, some better than others. However, this particular, final blog has been creeping up on me for a year or so now. Unsure how, or why, or if I would ever say this words out loud (or on a screen), I choose to share my feelings on getting old.

And I’d like to point out how seemingly ridiculous this sounds: excitement about getting old. 

I can almost hear my older friends (I tend to have a few) laughing, shaking their heads at me, beginning to explain why I’m wrong and what I’m up against. Fair enough. I don’t necessarily look forward to the aging process- let’s put it that way. I’m looking forward to elevating. At forty-four, I’m old enough to look back behind me and see the missteps, the fun, the anguish, and the joy, but I’m also old enough now to see the growth I’ve made over time. 

Elders in general have always been something a bit sacred to me. I was lucky enough to have been raised, in part, by my grandfather- the patriarch of my mother’s family. He was raised by Civil War era folks and carried with him a few longstanding traditions- one of which was reverence for elders, which you don’t see too often these days. He’d have me climb into the big bouncy front seat of his Cadillac when I was about five years old, and would drive me around DC telling me the stories of our family before we would go visit my Aunt Baba in the nursing home. I was a regular. Generational respect, care, compassion, and reminding the elders of their value is something Grandad instilled in me. 

I often find myself navigating toward older women. Whether it’s because we have kids around the same age (I had mine at eighteen), or because I have unresolved mommy issues, or I’m an old soul, I tend to spend a lot of time with women who are significantly older than me. I enjoy it. 

I soak up their stories and their wisdom with a hunger, aware that these stories and lessons will fade or be forgotten, and I can’t bear to let that happen. I value their experience, and in a culture which has significantly less respect for elders than we used to, I am grateful that the herbal community makes an effort to keep that sense of tradition and respect alive. But lately, I’ve noticed a shift in the way I’ve been observing these powerful ladies.

I see myself in them. 

Is this how I will be in twenty to thirty more years? Will I be jovial, wise, with an edge like a knife? Will I be soft and sweet and the one you want to sidle up next to? Will I be eccentric and wild and loud, with reckless care for the way the world sees me? Fierce? Contemplative? Maternal? Dismissive?

It’s easy to see the way these women shine at an herb conference. Watching from afar, as the gaggle of elders sit around a table, laughing and reminiscing, it's easy to see how each one exudes a very different energy and personality than the one next to them. They know who they are, seeming so comfortable and natural in their own skin. They each hold the wisdom and knowledge that they have collected and handed down over decades. They share it in their own way- all a facet of a diamond we know as herbalism. Each contributing a different understanding or piece of the puzzle. And so now I find myself thinking, what piece will I be sharing? As children we observe our mothers, older cousins, and aunts, carefully watching how to be a grownup; now I catch myself doing the same thing, again. Some things don’t change- they just shift. 

The first time someone planted the seed that I am ‘next’ was at the AHG Symposium this year. At least, this was the first time it really stuck with me. I was with some of my girlfriends when one of our herbal elders said to us "You are the next generation. You're the ones coming down the pipeline." While that’s not exactly a new concept, for some reason it shifted something inside me. And I got excited. Excited for me. Excited for us. Excited to get old together and be crones and laugh and know things. Excited to have a place where people will want to know what I’ve collected over the years. Excited to have a seat at the table. And I know it's not just me- I have had a few (herbal) women my age lately share the same sentiment: "That's going to be us one day!" But not with the typical societal dread of seeing your future self as a husk of a woman. This was full of life. Full of anticipation in the right ways. Seeing not just how our bodies will change, but the power we will stand in.

So whenever society’s poison seeps through the cracks of my life and makes me question: why do I let myself go, why do I allow myself to feel the annoyances of my changing body, why do I not hold on with both hands to this last remaining bit of youth before all the things fall down and fold over and whither what fade, I turn my attention to these women. 

Not that they are not beautiful- I think they are in their way, which is a very different way than the way the Western civilization views beauty. What I find more treasured than a smooth forehead is a woman who gives no shits. Who knows her worth. A woman who is empowered and battle-hardened enough to bite back, but also one who possesses the grace to provide solace, to speak truth, and to be at peace with herself knowing she did the best she could with what she had, putting something good back into a broken world. Wisdom, to me, is more beautiful than anything else on a woman these days. 

Would I have felt excited to get older if I wasn’t connected to a community that values the elder? I have no idea- but probably not. I could see myself getting bogged down with the aches and pains, and perhaps the loneliness that can come with getting older. But it is pretty fun to look around me at the faces of my (rather) youthful herbal peers, imagining who we will become, as if playing dress up. 

Perhaps in a decade or two I’ll write a follow up blog about how naive and simplistic I was when I wrote this at forty-four. That’s OK. I’m still looking forward to releasing some chains, gaining more lessons and knowledge, and being able to tell the stories for people who want to listen. 

And I already have my walking stick picked out!