Growing up as a kid in the Bronx, there are many things I remember and just as many I’ve forgotten.
Every so often, a song or a quiet moment evokes a feeling that points back to a poignant memory of yore.
As I walked along the concrete blocks shaded by tall buildings, I would notice the older folks sitting on park benches. A few were reading newspapers. Others were deep in conversation. But mostly, there was silence.
They sat quietly amidst the rush of passing cars, children playing, pigeons fluttering, and city dust blowing across their weathered faces.
The city was always in motion, but what stuck with me most was that stillness on the benches.
Back then, a quiet sadness would creep over me—I assumed it must be lonely to be old.
Fast forward to the present. A dear friend I’ve known since the fifth grade came to visit, and we took a walk around the south lake at our local park. Finding a shaded bench, we sat down. And now, we are those old people on a bench, not saying much.
Majestic pelicans glided across the lake, and both of us were absorbed in their quiet grace. Once in a while, a shared memory would break the quiet, but mostly we sat in silence. It wasn’t the Bronx, and neither of us felt lonely. It was simply a peaceful time of life.
I realize now that those elders on the city benches were not necessarily lonely. They were experiencing the true spirit of “BE-ING” an elder—shifting from the constant doing of adulthood to simply existing. I was no longer that innocent boy looking on; now, I am fortunate enough to be one of them.
This reflection is not meant to overlook the real plague of loneliness affecting many seniors today, especially those in institutional settings or isolated at home. Those challenges are significant and deserve attention, which I plan to address in a future post.
Yet silence as a reflection of a state of “BE-ING” (rather than doing) is a profound way of life. It isn’t loneliness, but a quiet state of consciousness—a natural evolution into elderhood. A child manifests wonder; adults labor for family, career, and sustenance; and an elder, having carried those responsibilities, transcends the busyness of the world for silent contemplation. With a peaceful mind, that quiet stillness brings us closer to a gentle, ultimate peace.
An elder has earned that space. Don’t miss out on fully embracing the elderhood phase of life.
“When the future becomes shorter, the present moment becomes infinitely wider. Silence allows you to inhabit this single moment completely.” — A Zen Master
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