In the Gloaming: What the Anti-Aging Movement Misses

I am in the gloaming of my life, the early autumn of my life. That means I have not made it to winter or end of day, but I can see them from here. Always, I’ve favored evening, even the words for it, like “gloaming” and “dusk”; and autumn rivals spring as my favorite season. In the life of a deciduous tree, the autumnal stage, when leaves lose their youthful chlorophyl, is often the most ravishing. When chlorophyl breaks down, other more alluring pigments get a chance to shine.

I am trying to view the advancement of aging with as much appreciation as I have when surveying the advancement of a day or year. My eyesight may be blurring and my knee hurts and makes funny sounds, but these slow breakdowns of the body accompany gains no one sees from the outside.

I recently went looking for a supplement recommended by my naturopath and the search brought me into proximity with anti-aging communities—people trying to wend their way out of becoming old, with biohacks and more scientifically-oriented approaches. It was eye-opening! These communities want to achieve longevity by addressing the sources of aging. Some anti-aging consumers are ripe for the picking by charlatans and those with snake-oil to sell; but the questions of longevity and how to promote it also concern serious researchers. The most radical of the anti-aging movement are the “immortality” folks, those who think they can defy death entirely, a neighborhood with a disproportionate number of tech billionaires on the block.

Whenever I learn something about the anti-aging world, I realize there’s an inverse relationship between longevity-strivers and those I’d want to spend my time with! While I appreciate the work researchers do on cellular health and the like, I find the vibe of anti-agers similar to how a pyramid-scheme convention must feel. Not to be hard on these folks individually. It’s just decidedly not my vibe.

I can’t help wondering what the attention on longevity takes attention away from. With all that striving after chlorophyl, one might reach autumn completely unable to cultivate and appreciate other pigments—glorious golds, fiery reds. With an aversion to senescence, one might miss the meadows of stillness afforded by evening, the time to say: enough for today. And the light! There is a reason evening is called ‘the golden hour.’

Some of those I love who have grown old—are growing old—have found peace with themselves. They have stepped off the stage and are no longer pretending to be something they’re not. And as they’ve learned to accept themselves, they’ve also become more accepting of those they love and are, for example, less critical of their kids.

Some of those I love who have grown old are so much more satisfied with life than they were when young and striving. They don’t feel the need for the big home, the huge garden, the packed social calendar. Instead, they love what they take in from a smaller aperture. Their connections with friends have become fewer, but also richer and more authentic.

I did recently hear of an acquaintance whose mother has lived to be 105 and still going strong, still joyful. People like this are great fun, and this woman’s life tells a tale of aging long while also aging well. Yet of my closest friends who are old, I don’t think one would wish for another 20+ years. They feel they are ready to go when their time comes.

When I look at elderly folks I know, I see people in the late autumn/early winter of their lives. They all have physical problems; their bodies certainly don’t have the perfection of youth. Admittedly, not all age with tremendous grace inwardly or outwardly.

But the friends I describe above are aging with grace. They are led by curiosity. They read voraciously. They always make time to support kids, grandkids, and other younger people. They read or listen to the news enough to be clear-eyed at what’s happening globally and in our own country, but they don’t do so obsessively. They are generous in giving and politically active in various ways. These friends are spiritually engaged and with each passing year, more aware of how we creatures share a common essence—how the separations between us are illusory.

They have retained their glorious golds and fiery reds well into late autumn/early winter. They even shine more brightly for the passing of youth and its mercurial ways.

May I do as well as these friends.

OF A CERTAIN AGE, A Poetry Collection, Now Available from Fernwood Press

Moving through sections that are roughly chronological—teens, twenties, thirties, forties, fifties—Of a Certain Age, explores the unfurling of a life, from loss of innocence to contemplation of death, from bemusement at life’s gaffes to bewilderment as life’s invariables slip away. Tricia Gates Brown reminds us to tune in—to the natural world, to the transcendent, to relationships, to the decades and epochs of one’s ordinary life, with wonder and courage. Reverence, at any age, is no where but here. Now available at major booksellers, or through special order at local bookstores.

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