Two weeks ago, I attended the Sage-ing International Conference in Minneapolis. As a member of the conference planning committee, I could not wait for the conference after 15 months of planning. For the next few weeks, I am going to have a series of posts sharing what I learned about positive aging, growing in wisdom, the difference between getting older and becoming an elder, among other topics for “making the rest of life the best of life.”
Since the most important person to lead is yourself, then continuing to learn and to grow as a person is critical for being an effective leader and a healthy person. One of the keynote speakers at the Sage-ing International Conference was Marc Freedman, author of several books but his latest book is How to Live Forever: The Enduring Power of Connecting the Generations. A main message at the conference was the value of elders–wise ones who are thinking about future generations. Conscious elders are called upon to be activists because elders usually have more time, flexibility, and freedom to take on challenges as work demands typically lessen in the second half of life.
One of the main challenges discussed at the conference was the recent UN report that stated, “we have 12 years to limit climate change catastrophe.” California is currently burning up and this should be enough to get our attention!
What can/should we be doing to help future generations? Check out Elders Action Network.
How are you working to make life better for your children, grandchildren, neighbors, and friends?
What else could you be doing to leave the world better?
To start my series, I am sharing a blog post by Freedman to remind us that the role of elders is to “leave the world better than we found it, and begin to do so now.”
We Are the Elders Who Remain.
As the people in Pittsburgh begin to bury their loved ones, massacred inside the Tree of Life synagogue on Saturday, my thoughts turn to my own father’s funeral last year and a passage from the Talmud read that day. It’s the story of a rabbi passing through a field, noticing an old man planting an acorn.
“Why are you planting that acorn?” the rabbi asks, in what I imagine is a scoffing tone. “You surely do not expect to live long enough to see it grow into an oak tree.”
To which the old man—turning slowly from the ground to fix his glance on the not-so-wise clergyman—says, “My ancestors planted seeds so that I might enjoy the shade and the fruit of trees. I do likewise for those who come after me.”
It sounded so familiar to me. For years, I’d been quoting a Greek proverb that reads, “Society grows great when older people plant trees under whose shade they shall never sit.”
Planting, tending, bequeathing to the next generation—it’s the essential human project, one we’ve long understood yet let slip over the past half century. It is our role as older people to plant those trees under whose shade we shall never sit. Our task is not to try to be young, but to be there for those who actually are.
Given the new demographics and longevity, embracing this role is the only way we can survive as a society. Those killed in Pittsburgh surely knew this. The elders, pillars in the congregation for decades, had gathered with younger families to celebrate the birth of a baby. And now 11 of them are gone.
We are the elders who remain. To honor all those who are gone, killed because of fear and hate, let us remember and embrace our role as gardeners and teachers, mentors and peacemakers, tenders of souls.
Out of gratitude for all that was planted before us, let us resolve to do right by future generations, leave the world better than we found it, and begin to do so now.