A quick and calm dissertation on rushing

Exhausted grandparents by Lesley Evans

The Crows Feet Dance group has started working on a new dance with the theme of RUSHING. Interesting word, ‘rush’. It’s more than hurrying, it’s a kind of urgent, almost out-of-control hurrying, as if you must achieve something immediately or suffer dire consequences. It’s hurrying with an anxious tinge.

Here’s (more or less) what I emailed yesterday to our lovely choreographer, Anna Groves.

RUSHING

I reckon your theme of rushing has got all of us looking at our lives. You asked us to improvise movements based on everyday actions when we’re rushing. I had to fudge this because … at 86 I very rarely rush at anything.

A few of my friends say the same. Some for the same reasons as me, some because of physical imperatives. One learned from her partner, a man who did not rush, could not rush, yet was always on time, got there without fuss or frenzy.

I’m only speaking for myself, but other heads may be nodding here. We may hurry, but that’s different. At such moments we consciously and deliberately go fast. Like right now I am typing every thought that comes into my head flat out. That’s on purpose and that’s nice. Not a problem, standing safely at my desk. We know better, most of the time, than to rush. We don’t often have the urge to rush: no kids to get off to school, no job.

Speaking for myself, the cost of rushing is too high, so I allow an inordinate amount of time to get to appointments and meetings etc. Also, times and dates are now weirdly tangled up in my mind.

In old age the relentless challenge is to do almost everything mindfully, fully focused on the task. This is a huge change — something I tried to do once or twice a day for my mental health is now mandatory, even sometimes a matter of life and death. In middle age, we aim for mindful moments. Stop before you start. Stop before you eat or drink, do the 3 sighs, when you walk just walk, and so on.

The 5-Minute Meditator (by Eric Harrison, out of print) has been one of my manuals for life, but if tested I’d have scored a D at best. Most of the time as we go through our ‘one wild and precious life*’ we are thinking about practical matters, family, plans, problems, grudges, tasks, work, ideas, and what to have for dinner.

Not-there-ism is the norm, mindfulness a delicious aberration. For example, my son the retired doctor says he would be mindful while entering another room and when taking blood pressure. Just a few minutes in the day. That’s enough to reset your body and mind.

When you’re old, you are distractible, your short-term memory is shot, and everything happens slowly. Being fully aware and paying attention is no longer a frill. Our autopilot has skived off.

Which makes mindfulness not only much more difficult but also 100 percent necessary.

If only we could really stick to this! It’s a constant challenge. Two weeks ago I ran for a bus and fell over, grazing my hands and knees. Three days later I caught myself again running for a bus, and stopped: because there’s always another bus. On the other hand we desperately need to let our minds wander, to daydream. That needs to be scheduled for when we’re safely sitting down or in bed.

Being old is like a new job, a rather demanding one at that. Luckily we do get paid :)

PS Exhausted Grandparents, the painting: if you’re a grandparent you sure know that feeling. The painting is by my sister, Lesley Evans. She’s pretty slack about publicising her new work but don’t worry, she is still painting away merrily in her 80s, in Christchurch, Aotearoa New Zealand. Shortly she and her husband Richard Evans will feature in my podcast, Learning How to Be Old, in an episode on gardening in later life.

(You know someone who needs this reminder. So please share.)