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Resolution, Revolution and Resistance, Taken from Dylan Thomas and Approved by Me

By Maggie Marangione January 07, 2024 Mindset

I tossed my walker over the cliff the other day (figuratively); I was raising my angry fist at my advancing years and infirmities, much like Dylan Thomas wrote in his famous poem.

“Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night” (line 1)

Acceptance of this has been a battle as I deal with body part replacements, body parts deteriorating and having to be rebuilt with other body parts, and a host of other ailments.

My couch has become my new best friend. And as I watch my bird feeder outside my window, I meditate on accepting this, because, in my days under the sun, I have hiked high elevation mountains, swam with sharks and repelled down cliffs.

“Curse, Bless, Me Now with Your Fierce Tears” (line 17)

The aging of my body and mind is a given, but does it mean I have to be resigned to it? Aging is inevitable and a privilege, but to remain complicit in the face of aging is starting to wear on me. While there may be times to be on the couch and take care of my body, there also comes a time that I need to push through it.

So, I got up off the couch the other day despite painful throbbing neuralgia and arthritis. In a cool rain, with a bottle of water and fierce determination, I started hiking, uphill, climbing up boulders until I was as high as the buzzards. I felt good; illness was suddenly not in the driver seat of my life. It had moved to the backseat.

“Old Age Should Burn and Rave at Close of Day” (line 2)

A friend was convinced her COPD was getting worse – possibly her heart too. After the death of her dog, she had stopped walking, volunteering, going to the gym, and gardening made her tired. Entire weekends were spent dozing.

“You’re depressed.” I told her.

She made a face. “Nonsense; I’m 74 and have COPD. The doctors have me on a heart monitor for a month!”

The eventual diagnosis? She was just fine and out of shape. The doctors told her to start moving. My sister, 78 and spending the last two years in chemotherapy, goes shopping many days a week, has a weekly hair, nail and facial appointment, and refuses to give up and be sick.

“I simply won’t think about it,” is her motto. A colleague, Dr. P, suffering from dementia, has stepped down as VP at a college, but he is at the college frequently, tutoring students or taking classes, each semester learning something new, and he does it with unflinching grace and joy.

“Blind Eyes Could Blaze Like Meteors and Be Gay” (line 14)

I no longer have the appetite to hike to Everest Base camp (which was on my bucket list along with Mt. Kilimanjaro), or go on vacations that I used to need to train for with weighted belts, but on the days that I am well, and even on the days I’m not feeling all too well, I’m going to push forward because, for me, it feels cowardly to do otherwise.

Instead of tears coming to my eyes because the arthritis in my hands makes it hard to nimbly maneuver my fingers, I now get ticked off. A little bit of rage goes a long way, and it prevents me from wallowing in the despair of my body betraying me.

I have more years behind me instead of ahead of me. WOW. How do I live my life knowing this? How do I live my life when a new ailment seems to materialize every week? How do I live my life when my heart wants to do a triathlon, but my bilateral hip replacements won’t let me?

Get Back on the Horse?

Throwing my leg over my 23-year-old Thoroughbred the other day, I decided both he and I were not through quite yet. He agreed. Grabbing his mane, he leapt into a gallop, and we went flying like he was 8 years old and I was 27. Sparks literally flew off his horse shoes as they crossed over the rocks. We jumped a creek, a log, branches smacked me in the face, and we both felt more alive than we had in years. It was exhilarating.

Afterwards, walking like John Wayne into my house, I took an anti-inflammatory, ran a warm bath with Epsom salts; not something I needed to do when I was 27. By 9 p.m. my crunched disks in my neck were screaming, so I took more meds and added my neck brace. I had ice or hot packs on different areas of my body. But that’s o.k., I think.

Perhaps it does not need to be all or nothing. Maybe there is a middle range, somewhere that isn’t on the couch but not hiking the Appalachian Trail – though an 83-year-old has completed it. While I don’t need to gallop every day, I do need to stay engaged, moving my body, working my mind, meeting people because it’s way too easy for me to let my aging pained body be in the driver seat.

Dylan Thomas wrote, “old age should burn and rave at close of day.” Yet, he only lived till 39. Hmmmmm. But there is some truth in his poem because the theme is about not being complacent, having regrets or resignation to the aging process, which often isn’t pretty. Sometimes, to march through aging, we need to be a bit fierce.

Let’s Have a Conversation:

How are you handling the aging process with grace? Have you had to modify pastimes you have enjoyed? Can you strike a balance of rest and engagement?

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Cindy

I have a 14-year-old Chihuahua who is going blind and deaf but he still begins every day with a leap when I announce “Walkie Time!” and he fairly bounds along the dirt road, tugging at his leash while I am pulled along. His energy and joy find their way back to me. It’s a good start to the day.

cheryl annie chase

my dog keeps me going too. i love your dog.

Rosamund Sheppard

Your lovely thoroughbred looks very similar to our daughter’s thoroughbred called Jock who has sadly very recently died, Your horse looks similar enough for me to imagine stroking Jock’s velvet soft muzzle.
Incidentally my great uncle was a Welsh poet and was visited at least twice by Dylan Thomas. My great uncle wrote most of his poems in Welsh and some in English as he was bi-lingual. Dylan Thomas wrote all of his in English. My great uncle didn’t drink but did drink whiskey each time Dylan Thomas visited as he said it was not optional.

Last edited 10 months ago by Rosamund Sheppard
Susan Goodman

I am 81 and have been active up till now. And I realize now with this article that I need to get up and get dressed every single day, and it would be a good idea to leave, My Home, condo, and go to the gym or go outside.

Peggy Brodland

I loved reading this! “ Nailed It,” for me as well.
Movement … Thanx ♥️

Wilhelmina

I’m 68. Have arthritis, putting in a big vegetable garden this year. Am I annoyed that my back, shoulder and other body parts hate me? Sure am, but it’s not going to stop me…I exercise three times a week, have adorable toddler granddaughter who gives me a workout when we are together….onwards and upwards I say…

The Author

Margaret S. Marangione is a Professor of writing at the University of Virginia and Blue Ridge Community College. Her novel, Across the Blue Ridge Mountains, has been submitted for the Pen Faulkner award. Additionally, her short stories, essays and poetry have been published in Appalachian Journal, The Upper New Review, Lumina Journal, Enchanted Living and Sagewoman magazine.

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