One of the many things I love about the Sun magazine is that it’s always introducing me to fascinating, new people; authors, poets, activists, and regular people who write with great heart and soul. I didn’t know who Michael Meade was until last November when the Sun published an interview with him; now he is one of my favorite writers! Storyteller, mythologist, and author, Michael Meade uses song, story, and mythology to help people discover their inner wisdom and inherent gifts. His latest book is Fate and Destiny. He believes that We have a seeded self that begins to germinate at birth. Our true goal in life is to become that self.

In the interview he talks about his work with young people, gangs, veterans, as well as with elders. I was struck by what he says about aging. Aging is a biological process that happens to everyone. Everybody gets older, but not everybody gets to be an elder. Becoming an elder involves a lifelong awakening to and reflection upon the story embedded in one’s soul. I love this because although we may retire from our job or cut back on certain activities as we get older, our inner process can deepen. As David Whyte says on his inspiring CD, Midlife and the Great Unknown, (I’m paraphrasing) The great adventure as we age is exploring the inner landscape. In fact, one of the most meaningful goals we can have as an older person is to become ourselves and in doing so inspire future generations. Bringing consciousness, acceptance, and compassion to whatever age we are makes it sacred, no matter what our condition or circumstance. To go into the world as one’s true self is an act of courage. -Michael Meade

The other kind of late bloomer undertakes many different jobs and may seem to be a dilettante as he or she gathers a variety of experiences and skills. Theirs is a circuitous route full of detours and delays and yet eventually it all comes together. In the end the various skills and talents they have acquired turn out to be exactly what they needed for their particular mission in life although no one could have predicted it, least of all themselves.

Frank McCourt is a great example and one of my favorite late bloomers; he didn’t even begin writing Angela’s Ashes (his first book) until he was sixty-four (yes, you read that correctly). When he was nineteen he left Ireland and returned to the U.S. where he took a series of jobs working in banks, on docks, and in warehouses. After serving in the Korean War he used the G.I. Bill to enroll in New York University and became a teacher; during his career he taught in six different schools in the New York area. It was only after he retired that he began writing. When he was fifty-nine (at his Second Saturn Return) he met Ellen Frey, the woman who became his second wife. At one point she told him (I’m paraphrasing), “Enough of telling your stories to your cronies in bars and taverns; write them down!” And that’s exactly what he did. He won the Pulitzer Prize for Angela’s Ashes and went on to write Tis and Teacher Man. If you’ve read Angela’s Ashes then you know that this deeply moving tale about growing up poor in Ireland is not the kind of book a young person could write. Writing talent and a genius for storytelling distinguished this memoir but it also required great maturity, wisdom, not to mention emotional and physical distance from the heartbreaking childhood that defined his life and forged his gifts.

Dick King-Smith grew up in England’s West country surrounded by his beloved animals. After serving in World War 2 he returned home where for twenty years he worked as a farmer. His father purchased a small farm for him adjacent to the family’s paper mill but Dick wasn’t much of a business man so when the mill closed, the farm closed as well; a second one he took over went bankrupt. He loved children so at forty-nine he returned to school and earned a degree in teaching. He wasn’t a success at that either; he was demoted to teaching the younger kids because he couldn’t do long division. Yet both experiences were absolutely perfect for the man who would become famous for his children’s books about farm animals. He wrote his first book (The Fox Busters) at fifty-six; became a full time writer at sixty, and went on to write over one hundred books translated into twelve languages; his most famous being Babe, The Gallant Pig.

One would hardly think of Arianna Huffington as a late bloomer, she seems like the exact opposite – a prodigy. At sixteen she moved to London from her native Greece to study economics at Cambridge. She began writing books in her twenties and by the time she was in her early thirties had published major biographies of Maria Callas and Pablo Picasso. She moved to the U. S. where she met the man she would marry; it was here that she rose to national prominence while campaigning for her husband’s (unsuccessful) bid for the senate. Afterwards she became an important presence in the Republican Party. In the late 1990’s she shifted back to the left and in 2004 endorsed John Kerry. Along the way she ran as an independent for Governor of California in the recall election, hosted and wrote television shows, acted in several sitcoms, and was a familiar presence in the media. In 2005 she launched the Huffington Post, the cutting edge news website; she was fifty-five at the time. She has clearly lived several lifetimes in one and acquired an impressive amount of skills, experiences, political savvy, and powerful contacts – all necessary for becoming an online pioneer.

Storyteller, mythologist, and author Michael Meade said in a recent interview in The Sun magazine: “I believe God – and to me “God” is just shorthand for the ineffable divine presence – has only one question for us at the end: “Did you become yourself?” We have a seeded self that begins to germinate at birth. Our true goal in life is to become that self.”

For some that “seeded self” blooms early; for others it takes longer. We are all unique and we all have our own individual timing; what’s important is that we trust that timing and have faith in the mysterious process that allows us to become ourselves and bring our gift to the world no matter how long it takes. “Don’t quit before the miracle.”

Late Bloomers are a special breed and often misunderstood. They can appear ridiculous to the rest of the world as they pursue some private dream or else bounce from one profession to another. In the end they have a longer road and a tougher climb for their journey requires tremendous faith, courage, and an iron will to keep going, especially when there’s no tangible success or positive feedback. In a way they are like the stubborn, dogged blooms that grow in unlikely places under harsh conditions; they are the desert flowers, the indomitable trees pushing through city sidewalks; they are the long shot, the dark horse, the voice crying int he wilderness. Ultimately they are our heroes whose challenges, triumphs, and stories inspire and uplift us and like a beacon of light keep us moving in the direction of our dreams.

Every late bloomer has their own unique story but it seems to me there are two general categories. The first knows exactly what he or she wants to do and focuses exclusively on it; it just takes them longer to develop their craft. Cezanne is a classic example; he had his first one man show at fifty-six. In Malcolm Gladwell’s brilliant essay, Late Bloomers (from his book, What the Dog Saw) he write about Cezanne at length. Thanks to an allowance from his father he never had to take a regular job and devoted himself completely to his art. “Cezanne was trying something so elusive that he couldn’t master it until he’d spent decades practicing.”

Another example is Julia Child. If you saw the movie Julie & Julia, you will remember how long she worked on her famous book, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and how many revisions she and her co-author did. Even after they secured a book deal and the manuscript was completed and delivered, the publisher changed his mind and rejected it. It was the publisher’s assistant who discovered the manuscript, tried the recipes and convinced her boss to reconsider. Julia Child was forty-nine (at her Chiron Return) when the book was finally published. Nine months later she launched her television career which spanned three decades.

The Coming of Light, By Mark Strand

Even this late it happens:

the coming of love, the coming of light.

You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,

stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows,

sending up warm bouquets of air.

Even this late the bones of the body shine

and tomorrow’s dust flares into breath.

SOME THOUGHTS ON GETTING OLDER

Everything takes me longer these days.

Just getting out of the apartment,

doing chores, completing my work,

making plans, keeping promises.

There are so many distractions.

I sometimes feel as if I’m swimming

in a sea of unfinished business.

On the other hand I meditate longer,

pray more, and stop to converse with

every tree and flower on my daily walks.

I may be slower now but I’m also saner.

I worry less, listen more

and pay attention to what’s important.

Which is for me – feeling good, being grateful,

staying present and open in this

beautiful and broken world of ours.

Perhaps most of all, being willing to say yes

to whatever life hands me;

knowing it’s all grace, all God.

“We age because we cannot change.” –Ramtha

That is one of the best statements I’ve ever heard about aging. Getting older is non-negotiable but how we do it involves more than just our age; it’s also about our attitude. As Benjamin Franklin said, “Some people die at 25 and aren’t buried until they are 75.” On the other hand, some people stay young, vital, and juicy into their seventies, eighties, and nineties. Rose was one of those people.

Years ago when I owned a natural foods restaurant in the West Village, I bought my alfalfa sprouts from a woman name Rose, who was affectionately referred to as Rose Sprout or the “Sprout Lady.” At my restaurant we put alfalfa sprouts on practically everything; house salads, entrée salads, sandwiches, and even used them as a garnish on entrees; we went through several huge bags a week. Over the years I got to know Rose; she was a vegetarian and a regular customer at the restaurant and I would often sit down and chat with her while she was having dinner. Rose came to New York City from Germany with her husband in the late thirties. They had a business together and raised a family. After he died she lived alone in her apartment on Fifth Avenue, just a block from my restaurant.

One day I asked her how she got into the sprout business. She told me that she lost all her money in the stock market in 1974. “So, Vhat vas I to do, Virginia?”She spoke with a strong German/Jewish accent. “I couldn’t ask my children. One summer my grandson vas visiting me. I saw him growing these alfalfa sprouts. I vatched vhat he was doing and said to myself, Rose, you could do that!” She was seventy-five years old at the time.

She started out growing alfalfa sprouts in jars on her windowsill in her kitchen; they require a lot of light. Eventually she graduated to growing them in large trays. She would put the finished sprouts in these giant plastic bags and wheel them to her customers in a shopping cart. As she got older the cart served as a make-shift walker. Over the years Rose developed quite a lucrative business; her customers were the health food restaurants in the West Village and SoHo, plus the upscale food markets in the neighborhood such as Balducci’s and Jefferson Market. She retired in her mid-eighties with a nice little nest egg.

A friend who knew Rose once spotted her at Omega (the conference center in Rhinebeck, NY). A group of people were doing a trust-building exercise out on the lawn; they were lifting an older woman high above their heads and gently rocking her. The woman looked familiar so my friend moved in closer; it was Rose. She was in her late eighties at the time.

“I can’t understand why people are frightened of new ideas. I’m frightened of the old ones.” –John Cage

Never lose a holy curiosity

Another example is the famous editor and fashion doyenne Diana Vreeland, someone else who stayed vital and relevant up until the end of her life. Many years ago I read an interview with her; in it she was asked what she thought of Punk. “I like Punk; it has energy!” she exclaimed. That got my attention, especially since she was in her eighties and I was in my thirties! I disliked Punk back then. I hadn’t explored it at all, I’m ashamed to say; it was pure prejudice on my part. After reading that interview, I thought to myself, if she can find something positive in it then so can I. We don’t have to love or embrace everything but we owe it to ourselves to at least be willing to explore it, taste it, and try it before we form an opinion.

“The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.
One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structures of reality.
It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.”
-Albert Einstein

Each of the generational cycles is unique; each one governed by a different planet at a different age and yet they all have something in common. We come to the end of an old life and find ourselves at a crossroads. It’s not unusual to feel lost, alone, and adrift. Do we continue to go forward or do we break free and enter the unknown? There are signs and omens that come to us; as subtle as an inner voice that whispers from somewhere deep inside or as dramatic as a health challenge or a divorce that stops us in our tracks and forces us to examine who we are and what we are doing. It can feel both fated and frightening, for an old life is over and a new one hasn’t begun. We find ourselves in transition and that is never easy.

One of the best books on dealing with change is The Way of Transition, by William Bridges. Change is a “situational” shift; we move cross country, we get married, we have a child, we switch careers, etc. “Transition, on the other hand is the process of letting go of the way things used to be and then taking hold of the way they subsequently become. In between the letting go and the taking hold again, there is a chaotic and potentially creative “neutral zone” when things aren’t the old way, but they aren’t rally the new way either. This three phase process – ending, neutral zone, beginning again – is transition.”

Jungians call it liminality, from the Latin threshold and refers to the space between here and there. It’s an actual place; in ancient times it represented a crossroads, a sacred location protected and guarded by Hermes and Hecate. It is also a psychological state, when we are not who we once were, yet not who we will become. Author and artist, Susan Kennedy (a.k.a. SARK) calls it the “messy middle.” I call it the Hallway as in “One door closes, another one opens, but it’s hell in the hallway.” But I have found that the Hallway is also holy and a necessary part of each cycle. For one thing, these periods transcend normal time and boundaries and therefore have a magical quality; people come into our lives who have important information for us; we have great insights, intuition, and significant dreams. And perhaps because we are desperate, exhausted, and our defenses are down we are more willing to let go of the old and more open to embrace new ideas and experiences.

According to William Bridges: “Without transition, a change is mechanical, superficial, empty. If transition does not occur or if it is begun but aborted, people end up (mentally and emotionally) back where they started, and the change doesn’t work. In spite of the new boss, (or new house or new baby), nothing is really different.”

Bottom line: No matter what cycle you are currently going through; don’t grit your teeth, soldier on, and try to hurry it along. It is such a rich and fertile time; embrace the chaos, make friends with the unknown and most of all give yourself enough time; time to process the changes and honor the transition for it is a sacred rite of passage, a birth, and a new beginning. “Even cowards can endure hardship; only the brave can endure suspense.”  -Mignon McLaughlin

-Virginia