The Life-Affirming Gift of Elders

Two weeks ago, one of the elders in my Ayurveda community in India died unexpectedly. Kasturi Amma was a steady, quiet presence, a pillar at all community events. Her influence spread wider than her small frame would seem to suggest. 

She was known for her kindness. She offered guidance primarily by example, but once she knew you, a few clarifying words of instruction or correction were not uncommon. She conveyed meaning with a glance, and inspired me to stand a little taller when she entered. Everyone regarded her with deep respect and honor.

Here in the U.S., where neither my immediate community nor the mainstream culture at large has many “elders” in my opinion, her death has underlined for me the great gift of elders for the good of any community. 

I always found Kasturi Amma’s presence comforting - not by what she said or did, but by what she exuded. In ways that might go unnoticed by newcomers, she occupied the center of the galaxy of our community. Like planets seemingly heading in different directions on our own missions, we always returned to the gravitational pull she helped hold at the center. 

More than simply being older members of society, elders hold information about the community over time, about traditions and customs, about what works and what doesn’t. They preserve knowledge and experience, which allows the larger group to grow in wisdom over generations. In time, this gives us confidence in our collective future. We can see we are part of a greater continuity that transcends our individuality.

On the individual level, too, elders offer a living example of the successful achievement of maturity. They have integrated the wisdom acquired by negotiating the challenges of life. They have made mistakes and grown from them. They demonstrate how to change and then reconcile the iterations of ourselves, ultimately maintaining continuity in our own individual life. 

Without these reflections of continuity and persistence in our midst, something is lacking - not only lacking in the preservation of important skills or models of self-correction, but lacking in confidence for our collective future. There’s no obvious through-line we can lean back into. 

This week, I’ve been reflecting on the impact on our nervous system when there is a lack of this continuity and the confidence it instills. It is a subtle but pervasive undercurrent of temporary-ness. 

Whenever Kasturi Amma was in attendance at an event, you knew you were in the right place, you were at the center of the action, the heart of the circle. The nervous system could soften and settle down with a sense of homecoming. Without someone holding that center, there is an ungrounded “blowing in the wind” quality.

This week I came across the phrase “homelandlessness” in the work of Cuban-American artist/psychologist Dr. Chanti Tacoronte-Perez, and it struck a chord in me. Elders convey a sense of homeland, a connection to something greater than our human selves, a direct line to living wisdom connected to the places we inhabit. With fewer elders, I feel less connection to this sense of homeland.

Interestingly, "elder" status is conferred upon an individual by the younger generations. Just as one can’t decide to become a grandparent by will, an older person can’t simply decide to be an elder. Rather the community begins to regard them as such. 

This requires recognition and collective action by the community, a shared regard that gets passed from one member to the next. The younger generations must confer the authority to the elder, acknowledging in them the embodiment of the gravitational pull they exert. 

This makes me hopeful. There is a cultural mechanism to create elders - but in the absence of a cultural precedent, it takes real consciousness and intention.

What do we lose by not having many elders in our circles? When you look around, who do you see in the role of elder in your life? And who else might we uphold into the role of elder? This feels like a question worth meditating upon.

Kasturi Amma’s absence is already palpable and will remain so in the days ahead, a hole in the fabric of our community, which somehow remains strong because of the gravitational pull she has held. Her presence has made a difference and will continue to, as the elders before her. She is deeply appreciated, and she will be deeply missed.