Growing Old

We heard from Umberto di Venosa, co-founder of Follow the Camino and One Foot Abroad, last week on the podcast that the Camino de Santiago may not be reliably open for most of 2021. It is a good thing that Pilgrim Lost is merely inspired by the Camino BUT focused on life in the everyday.

I must admit that my practice of the pilgrim-life has been waning in the last couple of months.  Maybe it is the short days, the overcast skies, the daily rain or COVID fatigue… however I imagine it is all of the above conspiring together inside my soul.

Still, I manage to harvest enough energy to walk a couple of times a week.  I have that going for me… which is nice.

Most days I walk east.  One of the first landmarks I pass is a park and community center.  This time of year during COVID, the windows of the center are dark, the ball fields are empty and laughter does not reside in the playground.  However, there is one spark of activity every time I pass.  EVERY time.

On the maroon Nike-refurbished basketball court, in sun, rain, sleet or fog, trots an elderly woman.  She is probably in her early sixties.  She weighs maybe 100 pounds.  Her hair is short and she is always in a sweat suit and sneakers.

Her cadence is an energetic cantor, never more and never less… never stopping.  She runs up and down the basketball court carrying, throwing, then chasing a basketball.  

The first dozen times I saw her, I chuckled at her futility.  Her wiry arms and impish frame can barely muster the momentum to get the ball to the rim.  She has nothing recognizable as “basketball form.”  Despite that, every time she passes the half-court line she heaves the ball off her shoulder in a catapult motion fueled by every muscle from her fingertips to her toes towards the ten-foot tall hoop.  The ball often clangs off the front of the rim or misses it completely, sending the ball careening off the court and/or into the street. 

Her cadence never changes.  She hustles to the ball, collects it up and cantors down the court again to catapult away.  CLANG!

For weeks, nay months, I never once witnessed the ball go through the hoop.

I used to chuckle at her and shake my head in disbelief as I passed.  

I don’t laugh anymore.  Instead, I am inspired by her.  In fact, I may even admire her.

Let me clarify.  I have seen her dozens of times, most times I pass.  Doesn’t matter the day.  I even pass at different times of day.  And there she is… her PLAY seemingly limitless.

Playfulness.

This is a difficult concept for me.

I live in my head.  I like ideas.  One of the great deficits of my life is play.

I woke yesterday and realized that I don’t sing aloud when I walk anymore.

When I was on the Camino de Santiago, I often found myself singing.  I sang to the cobblestones, to the birds or to anyone within earshot.  And not just singing… I would perform as I eased on down, eased on down the road.  You know those rhythmic gymnastics athletes that dance with ribbons or a hula-hoop?  I was like that, only I used my walking poles, twirling them above my head as I strutted down the Way… often to the entertainment of my fellow pilgrims.  (Feel free to use this revelation to tease me relentlessly from this day forth.)

 Where did that guy go?  Why can’t I be more like basketball-lady?

 Well, when I walked yesterday, I changed my tune (as the saying goes.)  I sang.  I sang aloud and I strutted to the music.  Show tunes mostly.  Dear Evan Hansen to be exact.

 I sang across the Interstate.  I sang along crowded Mississippi Boulevard.  I even sang past the park where once again, an older lady catapulted a basketball.

 So, during these dark weeks, it is true that we are stuck:  short days, bad weather, quarantine.   However, the cliché is also true.  “Stuck” is often merely a state of mind.

 So… go play.

 When was the last time you skipped?  Climbed a tree?  Danced with ribbons or a hula-hoop?  Boogied while cleaning the kitchen.  Or just sang aloud while you strutted down the road, mask in place, pointing and winking at the strangers along Mississippi boulevard?

 Remember:

We don’t stop playing because we grow old…

We grow old because we stop playing

-George Bernard Shaw