What a time we've had over the last week or so - full of death and pageantry. My blog thoughts are meandering from the death of the Queen; through life review; winding in and out of a movie called Father Stu, and ending up at "This I Believe," an old NPR show about core beliefs. Let's hope we don't get lost, and that we arrive some place before it all ends - the post, not the end of life.
Which brings me to "The Queen" and the end of her exceptionally long life and reign. Yes, I watched the whole thing and thought about Queen Elizabeth quite a bit during the period of mourning and the funeral. It was compelling! What magnificent pageantry! How carefully executed! What a send off! (All meticulously planned by HRH, herself!)
Clearly she was beloved by many of her countrymen and rightly so as far as I can tell. She was greatly admired for her lifelong dedication to duty, and I liked that she loved her animals, who showed up for her funeral in gratitude. She was the only Queen I've ever known, and I kind of feel like she belonged to us as well. (I did think, for a long time, that Prince Charles might want to marry me, seeing as how we were both near the same age and grew up together. I wrote him about this, but he was non-committal.)
But when all was done, and I turned off the TV, I began to think. How much did this cost? How much frightfully expensive pageantry does one human being really need? Yes, she kept her word in serving her country, but, my goodness, she had an awful lot of help in doing so. And she made great strides during her reign in becoming a more approachable monarch Well, how many centuries did that take? It doesn't matter. the UK was willing to give her a send-off fit for a queen. And that's what counts.
I wonder if this kind of thing is the measure of success that we non-royals should aspire to? Should we feel disappointed in ourselves if not a single mounted knight in gold braid shows up for our funeral? Of course not.
Questions about what we have accomplished in our lives and how we will be remembered (will we be remembered?) are common in older people. It's called summing up, and it is one of the tasks of late life. We review our lives and discern to what extent we have succeeded or if we have not.
Most of us will not be looking to our grateful countrymen for the answer to that question, but many of us do look outside ourselves. Lengthy obituaries in the newspaper speak to this: look what she did! She accomplished so much! And we surely want someone to say good things about us when we die. Someone? ... Anyone?
I don't think much about how I will be remembered, my legacy and such. I think happiness in late life is more closely related to self-examination. How have I measured up? Am I the kind of person I wanted to be? Have I done what I felt was important to do? Have I treated others the way I would like to be treated? Have I said what I needed to? You have to fill in the blanks here with your own measures of success.
Happiness and contentment come when we can say yes to these questions. I may be Queen of all I see, but if I can't stand to be with myself in the dark of night, then I'm not going to be happy and peaceful as things wind down. Remember that poem and Simon and Garfunkel song, "Richard Cory?" That didn't end well.
Feeling right with myself is a moving target for me. Just when I think, ok, I'm there, something happens that disturbs my equilibrium, and I have to go through a period of self doubt and re-examination. Like now, when I am dealing with pain, and having to rethink what I do and how I do it. How well am I coping? Will I be able to adjust my life to cope with the changes in my body? I'm not sure if I will be able to measure up to these challenges.
I think these periods of reflection and re-examination are normal and necessary for us to be able to answer "yes" when we ask ourselves if we are liking the person we see in the mirror.
Life moves on. We are constantly learning and growing. Change is necessary and healthy to keep from becoming stuck or having regrets that burden us. We are literally not the same person that we used to be. I sometimes look back and cringe at things I've said and done. But as a friend once told me, being able to look back and feel remorse shows that you have grown, and you now have the understanding and opportunity to act differently and to make amends, if needed.
We can still do this, even if we are old. Now we have arrived at the movie, Father Stu, the story of a man who, against all odds, changed himself from an angry atheist into a priest. He was an inspiration to those who knew him. I like the scene in which he visits a prison and tells the men in the audience, "Don't give up on yourself. Never, never give up on yourself." He knew what they needed to hear about themselves - that it wasn't too late, regardless of what they might have been through and how hopeless they might feel.
We can give up on ourselves and others in so many ways. I'm too old to change my ways we say to ourselves, and we can make that true. We can remain that person who can't feel at ease with herself in the dark of night, or we can stick our necks out, get buffeted by life, and become who we really want to be. We can give other people a chance too, if we give up our broken records of the past and wrestle with the present until we come to a new understanding. Why do it? To make the world a better place and win a horse-drawn ride to the grave? I don't think so. It's so that when we walk through our own life review, we can experience peacefulness and joy instead of regret.
So for my "This I Believe" statement: I believe it's not too late to be our best selves. Never give up on yourself. Never, never give up on yourself!
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