Battling Dragons

"In my day, I battled dragons
Walked with giants, ruled the seas
And all the riches known to man
Belonged to only me
What am I now? Fragile and lonely.
In the shadow of my glory
Robbed of everything by time."


I judge the quality of publications for Columbia University and recently read the poem above written by a student. I thought it ironic that a young person could so eloquently capture the feelings of the people my age who often lament the loss of their physical prowess, mental acuity and financial freedom.

I recently dined with a large group of babyboomers who spoke of nothing else but their physical problems. The common denominator was that none were resolvable only controllable, and that was anger provoking to each of them.

These people had been movers and shakers in their lives. They had been problem solvers and now they couldn't fix the physical problems that plagued their lives. They were angry because they'd been told they had to accept and live with their conditions--resign themselves to the fact that aging was robbing them of their physical and even mental well-being.

When I was in my thirties, I vividly remember thinking, as I listened to older family members conversing about their aches and pains, that I would never make that the focus of my discourse with other people. But like all the others vows rooted in ignorance and inexperience that I made in my youth, I now know that it is hard to be our best when we don't feel our best.

In my thirties, I was strong and pain free. I danced and exercised daily with ease. I juggled the myriad repsonsibilites of family and work without forgetting a thing, and I slept like a baby.

I didn't know what it was going to be like to have trouble even opening a jar or medicine bottle. I didn't know what it was going to be like to struggle with walking sometimes much less exercising because of an arthritic knee. I didn't know I would someday toss and turn trying to find a position that wouldn't aggravate my fused neck and allowed me a quick retreat to the bathroom for the umpteenth time.

Yes, welcome to aging. Is the trade-off for a weakening body and brain greater wisdom and a firmer focus on that which is really important in life? I don't know. I talk with friends and the answers to the "big" questions in life still seem elusive and the difficulties in relationships still loom large.

Is there any compensation for losing our physical and mental strength? One great sage in his late sixties, whom I well respect, suggested that losing all that makes us vital allows us to let go at the end.

I'm not sure losing our faculties is God's design to ready us for death, but I have seen enough people, who had been giants in their day, lose their strength and their desire to battle dragons, and as soon as they did, they sought a heaven that promises a new body, a life without pain, and eternity with our maker. Their eyes were focused only on God.