5 minute read
THE FRUITING TIME OF LIFE
Persia West is making the most of the wisdom and experience that comes with the collection of years
) For sure I’m not as young as I used to be, but, to tell the truth, I rather like being the age I am, 71, in many ways. It has pros and cons, like any age, like any other of the range of identities I’ve had the privilege to live. Boy, woman, Liverpudlian, teenager, garden designer, writer, meditator, father, trans, Tokyo gaijin, grandmother; on it goes, all of them me and none of them me. I know this well as they all come and go while I stay watching. But I’m not elderly – a word which brings up an image of a stooped and fading old dear, shuffling towards the grave. I’m fit in body and mind, present and alert. And, interestingly, people have been using the word ‘elder’, rather than elderly, in reference to me in the past couple of years, which has a completely different image feeling, one of wisdom and centredness rather than degeneration. What a difference ‘ly’ makes, elder or elderly, chalk or cheese. So what does it mean to be elder and trans, at the same time? Well, both of these identities are powerful and affect each other. It’s another of those intersections that affect us so deeply, trans and race, class, sexual orientation - all identities which act to limit and deny, but also give us a sense of who we are. But how about being elder? How does that identity impact on being trans? First, let’s find another way of looking at being older, outside of prejudice and fear. I picked this quote up from The Guardian recently, and it tells another story from the fear of being ‘elderly’ and its damning expectations and limitations. It’s also very much my own experience. “There are global studies showing what’s called ‘the paradox of ag’”, a U-curve revealing that from childhood onwards happiness declines, and then dramatically rises. We’re most miserable in our 40s, but things pick up around 50; happiness at 90 far exceeds that at 18. This upswing is partly owing to life experience, but is also a direct result of getting older, say psychologists: “The biological, cognitive and emotional changes of ageing itself … result in better emotional regulation, greater equanimity and compassion, more comfort with ambiguity, deeper gratitude and a focus upon meaningful engagement in the present.” What this means on the ground, in my life in the day-to-day, is that I’m very much more at ease with myself. I’m definitely not paranoid
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society is prone to these conditions already. It all depends on money and health, the great qualifiers of life at any age. And it’s not just us. In other words, it’s a mixed bag, depending on how we lived our lives, that which shapes and colours our later years, along with our hidden destinies.
But now, with acceptance of who and what I am, my experience is changing daily. Now I find great pleasure, delight, in small things. I’m writing poetry, small writing. I walk miles with my little dog and partner, stretching the rules and staying sane. I often lie in the sun on my bed after a fine breakfast, just for the pleasure of it. I do feel more compassion for the suffering of others. I feel relieved that I no longer have to pretend that I love struggling, fighting the good fight of life on Earth. Oh, more importantly - my clivia plant is flowering. I have more time for my meditation practice, and it has changed, deepened, moved into a finer, profounder state, which is a wonder. In India the third stage of life is considered the sweetest, when we have done with defining ourselves by what we do and attain. And I’ve come to accept that I’ve become an elder. I have a degree of wisdom and kindness that I never had before, with profound implications for my state of being. The texture of life is different, but it’s not poorer; it’s richer, simpler, with that pleasure in small things saving me a lot of hassle, and money. The future always was uncertain, and still is, so I take every day as it comes. Right now I’m living with a challenge which could come at any time in life, but more likely at this time. So the fear of the dark possibilities of even older age do rise in me, but these days they don’t last long –hell, they’re just another way of fearing a future that may never come. Have another cup of tea, Persia, and watch the clivia silently bloom. Autumn is long and beautiful, the fruiting time
of life.
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) Persia was born and dragged up in Liverpool, fled as a kid from the 'normal', hard to live suburban life and began to live in places far away; Spain, Japan (for nine years), California, India, Canada and more, living a life full of identities. Boy, woman, teacher, actor in TV ads, bartender, garden designer, meditator, writer, activist, speaker, grandmother; on it went and goes. Now she lives in an eyrie above Preston Park, watching the sun and moon rise and fall, trains go by, life slide by, in a good state - usually - of meditative reflection, as the next changes shift her life once more. Far from done but softer now, in the sweet place that has come with getting elder.
