As I approach the turn of another year, I’ve been thinking about how we regard aging. In this time of such uncertainty it is natural to reflect on the past and give thought to what the future may hold for ourselves and those we love. Some people I know seem to have been born old—that is born with a wisdom and gravitas that frankly has escaped me. Others have never seemed to age –perpetually youthful, they simply arrived at another stage in their lives with their wits and bodies largely intact and outwardly untouched. Most of us, and I am certainly in this group, show the signs of our gathered years. But what about our minds?

Over the years, I have come to understand that growing old is a state of mind. The truth is that we do not grow old but simply stop growing. Life is not static—the events that shape us and our reactions to them are continuous and evolutionary. If we accept this and allow ourselves to experience change—even when it is not necessarily something we hoped for—then we remain open and our minds remain fluid, curious and optimistic. When we close ourselves off and try to ward off the inevitability of change our minds become calcified in the experiences of our past. We do not grow; we remain in place while the world around us moves on for better or worse.

Change is neither good nor bad, but whether we accept it or not, it will come. Often we recall our feelings for the past with fondness but mourn the present, especially when that present challenges us as it does at this time. When I am tempted to think about my own past and to grieve, for what was or might have been, and for those who are no longer in my life, I am reminded that those I have loved would be excited to be alive even now, to awaken to each new day. Still it chastens me when I am confronted by the discomfort of change—when things I have grown used to no longer are the same and I must adjust myself to unwelcome difference. Yes, I miss those who are not with me, but I know that a thirst for living life fully was something we shared and it remains my lesson for today.

For many it is hard to see today as a day filled with enthusiasm—it seems to hold no good promise but is waiting, in abeyance and perhaps with a sense of existential dread. We know this feeling well, it is an all too predictable human response to the unknown and all too imminent future, it feels like age. I know that I am not alone—too many sit and wait—trying to hold off the unbidden.

My great Aunt, Pauline lived to the age of 103. Weeks before she died, she rode a subway to Yankee Stadium in NYC to see her favorite team play. She was an avid reader, a person who was curious about everything and she retained a desire to experience life boldly right up to the last moment. Reading about others who have lived to an age well beyond the predictions of actuarial tables, there is one thing that stands out. They, like Pauline are a feisty lot. They are not waiting for the end of their lives but greeting each day as if it were the first. They have seen their share of pain and grief--lived through their own trials, but they possess a serenity that comes from the knowledge that the fleeting moment is all we ever have.

It is too easy to get caught up in the business of living and forget to wonder at the world around us—to grow bored or indifferent. But I have never heard such sentiments from these centenarians. For them life remains an adventure—something to be embraced with an appetite for what the day will bring, even in the most difficult of times. None of us know how our years will be counted. Maybe it is time we should just stop counting and get on with the living.