Like a tailor crafting a new coat, I’ve been putting the pieces together in my new direction as a juvenile geriatric.
What does ‘putting the pieces together’ mean, practically? Well, over the past two months I’ve focused on my physical fitness roadmap for the future. I decided to start teacher training in Pilates after a year of attending regular reformer Pilates classes.
I love this form of exercise. It involves strength (weight-bearing), cardio fitness, core strength and pelvic and spinal stability which is at the heart of how we move. Some of you may also be familiar with mat Pilates, which I will be studying in the second half of the year.
When I embarked on this route I thought - if nothing else - the teaching course would make me a better Pilates practitioner. I also wanted to learn to listen to my body and honestly face my weaknesses and strengths. If you’ve ever had a lower back injury, or your back just ‘went’ after you made a strange move, you may also be interested in learning more about core strength (I’ll explain in a future post).
I have found a joyful parallel with my current work. Pilates training is the exercise equivalent of my recent book Rebel Talk, in which I encourage readers to develop self-awareness of their own conversation styles and to challenge themselves in order to have richer conversations. (Plug alert: if you’d like to buy signed copies from me with Australian postage included, they are available here)
In my fitness universe (which sits happily beside writing and performing) I find myself beginning again.
I had a thirty-five year career in journalism. I mastered many skills from writing, interviewing, living in warzones, even applying make-up! It feels strange to begin again. I am in this curious space called uncertainty. Will I be terrible at this? Can I handle being judged and corrected? Will I ever learn anatomy? Will I pass the exams? Will I ever teach? Who will employ me?
A line in Maggie Kirkman’s thoughtful book Time of Our Lives - Celebrating Older Women, suddenly caught my attention :
“We need to continue to develop skills, connections and means of communicating with people and with the world at large, and we need to do so before we become resistant to learning new things.”
Resistant to learning new things? How and when does this happen?
I reached out to Maggie.
“(In older people) I think there is often a fear of failure after a lifetime of feeling accomplished with familiar tasks and ideas. Feeling like a duffer for making mistakes, especially if there is an audience of younger people rolling their eyes… it can take an effort of will to launch into the unknown. There’s this expectation that age = decline and incapacity. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.” - Maggie Kirkman
Together, let’s stop giving such expectations fuel.
Do you need a nudge to launch into the unknown?
I know I do. It can be daunting out there on the launchpad, against the shuddering scaffolding, the fear we might embarrass ourselves or the notion we might fail. But the launchpad is also exhilarating.
I want to age with a flexible mindset, a strong body and great posture. What are your goals? Shall we compare launchpads?
Thank you, Jane, for yet another most interesting piece.
I love that you are embracing new learning (and subsequently teaching), and I love how you relate it to Rebel Talk (which I loved, by the way).
My older life has seen me take on new activities - eg, bushwalking - I have joined a local walking group which I have really enjoyed. No strict rules, just meeting lots of lovely like-minded people. So, some learning for me through this - new places, new locations, and meeting others whom one can always learn something from.
My Camino Santiago Walk in Spain is now only a few weeks away, and ... I need to learn some Spanish to help a little when there - so, more learning!
I agree with your goals - they are similar to mine. (I am much older than you Jane.)
I think that we "get away with" not being in touch with the requirements of our bodies and minds when we are young, and then we pay the price for that ignorance as we age; as the needs of body and mind become more critical because our taken-for-granted ability to seamlessly recover from injury is taken away from us by the aging process.
I am now much more aware of my posture, the workings of muscles and of my emotional reactions (and their impact) than I was when younger. Wish I'd known it then, but I didn't seek it out. What I can do now is keep my life and interests busy by slowing down those processes that lead to life-decay.
I now dance more, get involved in voluntary work, attend almost any courses offered to me.
As a consequence of, at last paying attention - I am enjoying life like never before.