My parents were still teenagers when I was born. And while they parented me as best they could, and I had what could surely be considered a normal and healthy childhood, I’ve never quite felt ‘eldered’ – after all, they and I are in the same generation.

My grandparents were elders to me, yet we lived far from them for much of my upbringing, visiting them just a few times a year, so their ‘eldering’ wasn’t significant; the same was true for my various aunts and uncles. Certain of my teachers were surely role models for me in one sense or another – but again, our interaction wasn’t frequent, and so they weren’t in any consistent ‘eldering’ position.

On my 16^th birthday, having had several part-time jobs already, I was determined to work – and applied that day for my first legitimate employment which began just 2 months later: I was a nurse’s aide in a senior care facility, 30 hours per week, after school and on weekends. I worked there for more than 3 years and to this day consider it one of my most formative experiences and favorite jobs.

It was there that I encountered elders en masse. We weren’t related, and all were in the final stage of life and varying degrees of fragility. I was there to assist them. They, in turn, taught me much about what it means, even to one’s last breath, to be an elder and to elder others.

We talked, and we talked. Mostly, I listened. They had so much to share with and to teach me. Helping them with their personal care, learning of their lives and listening to their expressions of fear as well as courage, witnessing many of them in their final transition – and lovingly washing and dressing their bodies after they’d gone, preparing them for their families and their ultimate journey – taught me more about living and dying than all my subsequent years of education and professional experience.

Now, the world faces an unprecedented shift in demographics. While some regions still have youthful populations, many are facing a rapid increase in the percentage of elders over youth. As governments worry about lack of work force and cost of elder care, seeing this as a coming ‘silver tsunami’, my view differs dramatically.

I see that the world has an opportunity to grow up. We could do with a strong dose of maturity, with a large wisdom class, with eldering on a grand scale. We are also grossly overpopulated, and increasing birth rate, as governments like to exhort, is absolutely not the solution; at the same time, we worry about technology taking over many jobs from humans, which seems to me a solution rather than a concern. As well, mortality has increased in much of the world, and along with that, better health to a more advanced age than ever before; elders are likely to live longer, but in fact are less likely to burden the social systems than previously. And so – the global population ages, and perhaps, we mature into solutions and healthier ways of living.

But do we still value elders, and eldering?

The world has entered the technological age, and the knowledge and experience of elders may feel less relevant than ever before. At the same time, much of the world has come to place high, artificial value on youth, fed ever more by said technology, and surely by capitalism and its exaggerated need for productivity. We are transitioning into a new era – and there is the risk that those currently in or approaching their elder years may feel left behind, while those younger struggle to see their elders’ worth.

We are also facing multiple global crises, from climate change to increasing polarization, conflict, and authoritarianism, to novel disease and pandemics, to runaway inflation and economic instability, to a crisis of confidence in existing systems across the board. If ever we needed eldering on a global scale – this is surely one of those times.

So – what does it mean, to elder?

There is an ‘elder’ archetype imprinted in the human brain by which, cultural variations aside, we all feel that we know what it means to be or act as an elder of society. We think of wisdom, patience, and someone with a lifetime of self-knowledge and practical experience who is expected to share this with his/her social group. This has long been the general definition of ‘elder’ – but specifically, how do we act as such? And do we qualify simply on the basis of old age? Do we all become wise?

Many religious groups maintain a concept of ‘elder’, as those with advanced spiritual development agree to guide and mentor others in their own such quest. Some indigenous peoples also continue their concepts of ‘elder’ in those of advanced years who, in their wisdom and experience, guide other clan members.

Long gone in much of today’s world, however, is the bonded group who gather around their senior member and await guidance and leadership. In our modern societies, this image of ‘eldering’ no longer fits; technology has all the answers, or so we’ve come to believe, and few seek Grandmother for advice or feel its relevance. The world has fundamentally changed.

Naturally, the purpose of this book is to explore this topic in some detail. In short, however, I must say: the elder’s primary role, as I see it, is one of presence. Being present, not (entirely) giving in to the urge to turn inward and to isolate. Remaining an engaged member of a family, a community, the human society, not allowing others to render one invisible, irrelevant. Sharing wisdom and experience, yes, but also silently representing stability and rootedness. Giving voice to one’s fears, hopes, dreams – and maintaining goals, even at an advanced age.

Showing us all what it means to live the whole of one’s life, as fully as possible, rather than reaching a certain point and simply waiting to die.

There is no requirement for elders to mentor the younger generation. Indeed, while decades of experience have been acquired, it may not all be relevant to today’s society and way of living. Mentoring is one way to elder, but not the only way; to be wise, to have answers, to act as a role model is all good when occurring organically, but without pressure to act.

Being present is enough.

In their study of Australian aboriginal elders and the path to elderhood, Eades et al. (2022) identified 3 themes: characteristics associated with ‘elder’ status, the process of becoming an elder, and potential compromise to elders’ impact on others. Characteristics included leadership, life experience, intergenerational transmission of knowledge, deep connection to tradition, and respect coupled with approachability. Reciprocity was also explored; elders not only gave of themselves but received as well, and considered the input of those younger than themselves. The path was earned, not only via aging but also in serving as role models and mentors to those younger, and was considered a permanent status. Threats to the elders’ influence were seen in the aftermath of cultural trauma, a lack of community bondedness, and generational gap rendering their wisdom less relevant.

All of this could be applied in one sense or another to any culture, it would seem.

I love being in the company of elders, and I’m eager for this third-third of my own life that I’ve recently entered. I want both active engagement and a quiet solitude for development toward my own transcendence. I’ve no urge to grasp my fleeting youth nor rush toward ancestorhood; rather, I wish to dive fully into all that this stage of life has to offer.

Even death. The ultimate mystery holds no fright for me. Even senility, should it come, yet another mystery and a true turning inward. Pain and fragility, while not welcome, have their own lessons to teach. It’s all fine. It’s life, in all its messy glory.

Meantime, having lived my life heretofore as authentically as possible, I wish to be even more so as I age. Each encounter with another provides them not only with an example, I hope, of engaged and evolving elderhood, but also of their own future, and my past, and that we float in this dimension of time rather indiscriminately, all of it happening at once.

Roots. Eldering is an understanding, I feel, that one represents the deep rootedness of humanity. The elder serves as a constant reminder to others, merely by his/her continued presence in society, of both the past and the future – that life, and humanity, has an arc, of which every one of us is a part. Eldering reminds others of that past, and allows them a glimpse into their own future.

As I’ve aged, and in my ecospiritual practice of 40+ years thus far, I’ve increasingly engaged with the concept – and the reality – of ancestors. Ancestors of my blood lines, certainly, and based on extensive genealogy work to enlighten me of same, my own sense of rootedness has grown ever deeper. Ancestors of spirit – the Mighty Dead, those who’ve influenced my own life directly and the very many who have positively impacted humanity as a whole.

Ancestors of land, as I understand increasingly that I am part of an uncountable species which in turn is but one segment of a vast ecosystem, within which most other species were here long before my own – and that I, however insignificant, am utterly interconnected with all sentient beings. And ancestors of hearth, the sense of home, of place, of health, of safety and security, of one’s very core.

This ancestorhood has provided me with an immense sense of eldering, if disembodied. So many before me, human and otherwise, and I too will someday join this ancestral realm, an overarching task of my elderhood the preparation for same. I walk with tens of thousands, and tens of billions surround and have preceded me. I am eldered, sheltered, surrounded, rooted.

Much is made these days of conscious, engaged, active approaches to one’s own elderhood. We see this in the popularity of such works as Aronson’s Elderhood (2019), Pevny’s Conscious Living, Conscious Aging (2014), Schachter-Shalomi’s From Age-ing to Sage-ing (2008), and Tornstam’s Gerotranscendence (2005), among others.

I fully intend to continue living as authentically and as focused on development as I ever have, to my final breath – and beyond. When it comes to eldering, it is this engagement and presence that I wish to share with those around me, that I view as my contribution and responsibility to all of humanity, as I evolve toward ancestorhood.

I have this idea, you see, that we’ve 4 primary stages of existence: childhood, adulthood, elderhood, and ancestorhood. Each is meant not only to be fully explored but also to prepare us for the next. Each represents a step up from the previous. In elderhood, it isn’t that we’re no longer ‘adult’ but that we’ve leveled up, to a stage beyond. Its purpose, beyond the full expression of elderhood itself, is one of preparation for ancestorhood, in the legacy that we leave behind, in our final contributions to the bettering of humanity. A life well lived.

This gives me much to contemplate as I begin my own exploration of elderhood.

Our work is far from finished.

Eldering. Eyes wide open.

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