“Just think of it as a temporary necessity,” the physical therapist told me as she wrote out the prescription for my front-wheeled walker. She was responding to my protest of disbelief at being provided with the accoutrements of an ailing, old lady. “That doesn’t fit my conception of myself!” But I could live with the idea of “a temporary necessity.”
Really, isn’t anything we don’t like in life a temporary necessity when we experience it? The temporary can also be a godsend. When my son, Grant, went through immunotherapy for melanoma two years ago, I stumbled across the beauty and perfection of the temporary. Doctors referred to his last-resort treatment as “going through living hell,” and they weren’t wrong. On the list of 20-30 side effects, chemical burns and blood blisters in the nose and mouth were among the more palatable ones. We also grappled with the hidden, insidious ones like depression, anxiety and hallucinations. Only by the process of going through them were we able, eventually, to identify and deal with them. When he was in despair one morning, I had him take an internet survey on depression. I had previously answered the questions the way I thought he would, and our answers matched closely. An inspired idea flowed through me from universal mind: “You know what, Grant? These are side effects of your treatment. While it may seem right now like things will always be this way, this is temporary. It will not last.” He grabbed on to the idea, allowing it to comfort him and lift his spirits. I’ve heard him tell others since that something distressing is only temporary.
“Temporary,” we get. But, “necessity?” Something needed. Hmmmmm. Why would I “need” a walker? Well, the most obvious externally discernable answer is for the painful limp due to my osteoarthritic left hip. “You’re going to need it after your hip replacement surgery, so we may as well just get it now.” It did make walking easier…along with the vicodin! But my image! My self-image does not include me with a walker. I’ve always been vital, healthy…..and…..impatient with slow, old people, whether walking or driving. “Get out of my waayyy!” Oh. Necessity. The necessity of my soul is for the expansion of empathy, love, compassion. The necessity of my soul is to be balanced, both a good giver and a good receiver, able to let in the love and support offered by others.
I’m learning, as I age, that I generate a different response from people. “Do – you – know – how – to – use – a – computer?” a hospital tech asked me, very – slowly. Instead of “Yes,” I thought of replying rapidly, inviting him to discuss with me the pros and cons of local ISPs. People respond to me differently when they see me limp across shopping center parking lots. They open doors, provide carts, offer help, are loving, patient and kind. Role models. And I have the opportunity to practice being a grateful receiver instead of the giver, a more comfortable, familiar role. Being a receiver can trigger feelings of being helpless, powerless, out of control.
A neighbor told me her independently-living, 93-year-old friend asked her, “Why are people always yelling at me?” They think you can’t hear. Why are they speaking so slowly? They think you don’t comprehend. My dear friend, Verna, an internationally-known, well-respected healer who led workshops from Dubai to Australia, howled with indignation when a long hospital stay didn’t allow her to color her hair and she was treated like an incompetent old person.
Who knew a limp and a walker could be such great spiritual teachers? One behavior I’ve altered radically is the way I interact with the truly elderly (over 80) as opposed to the newly elderly (over 60, like me!). At church recently, during greeting time, I crossed the aisle to greet a hunched-over, immobile, truly elderly woman clinging to her walker. I took her hand. I looked her in the eye. I saw her light. I let her see mine. I said, “Good Morning,” greeting her beyond the level of appearance in the place the Sufi poet Rumi referred to by saying, “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there.” Beyond the world of appearance and duality (right/wrong), there is a field (the unified field of oneness). I met her there. I truly saw her. “Temporary necessities,” simply put, can be great tools of transformation.
