As I grow older, I spend more and more time on maintenance—not of my home or possessions, but of my body.
My body doesn’t work as well as it used to.
Exercise, stretching, and standing consciously have become essential.
My short-term memory has deteriorated, making it harder to juggle the day-to-day details I once handled with ease.
Sleeping was once effortless, but I must now prepare medications and follow routines to ensure I get enough rest.
I find myself taking more pills than I ever thought I would.
I think to myself, how did I get here?
Silver linings
Aging has brought gifts though. As my professional life slows, I have more time to consciously maintain my body and my relationships. The upside of a worsening short-term memory is that it’s easier to live in the moment!
I’m more aware than ever that I will not live forever.
This awareness brings, at times, some measure of equanimity.
The act of maintenance is inherently paradoxical—it is a fight against entropy, a refusal to let things fall apart. Maintenance implies that we can somehow maintain what we had at an earlier age. This of course is not how it works. Eventually, I will die and maintenance—along with everything else that occupies my attention—will no longer be a problem.
Until then, I will work diligently on maintenance, keeping my life the best it can realistically be.
That is enough. It is more than enough.
