Eldering is a verb

Surviving your own bullshit

Jody Day - self-portrait with eyes closed, 2021.

Something the wise and iracible Stephen Jenkinson said in a recent interview stuck with me, and I paraphrase: you don’t get to ‘be’ an elder by dint of age, but by showing up as one. And that ‘Elder’ is a title only Youngers can give you—it’s about what you do, say, offer and mean to younger generations; about how you show up in their world.

Elderhood is a function, not an identity.

My mother was eighteen when I was born, and I am the latest in a line of unmothered daughters. There were no elders around me when I was young and barely any grown-ups, frankly. Now that I’m in my foothills of my sixties, I look back over watershed moments in my life such as as my mother’s disappearance when I was thirteen (I was told she was dead, but a year later found out she’d left with another man); the career-ending injury in my late-twenties that left me with lifelong chronic pain, the toxic combination of my unexplained infertilty and my then-husband’s addiction issues which consumed my thirties and ended our marriage—I look back at such times now and realise how very differently things could have turned out, had there been an Elder in my life to offer the long view. Not to comfort me, or perhaps even to offer me counsel, but simply by the depth of their presence and their truthful example of what it takes to grow up, they could have given me clues as to how it was done.

It’s quite sobering to imagine what a massive difference such eldering could have made to the course of my life.

However, it would have required something of me too, to bear the weight of their testimony—humility, for a start, which I didn’t have a lot of back then—do any of us when we are young? But now it’s a sediment that deepens with each shedding layer of bodily youthfulness, each terrifyingly unflattering photograph, each realisation that, ‘Oh, I’m probably never going to do that now’, each death in my circle, each shocking revisting of a place woven through with precious memories only to see them wiped off the map.

Living with loss seems to be the secret sauce of eldering—if you’re prepared to endure that kind of alchemy—and it seems very few of us are. As a society, we’ve never had so many old people amongst us, and yet where are the elders? It seems we’re hungry for wisdom in a famine of elders.

My mind alights on the memory of when one of my nieces came to stay with me in London for a few months when she was nineteen. With the learnings from my own time as ‘fresh meat’ to the city at the same age, I was able to offer her much more than just a bed—and had the wisdom to let her make her mistakes without judgment. Now in her early thirties, she recently said to me, ‘I hope you realise that I wouldn’t be me without you?’ (As a childless non-blood aunt, cue a big lump in my throat!)

Humaning takes a lot of practice, and much of that practice is about learning from fucking things up and living with the life-altering consequences. Wisdom isn’t some lofty zero-sum game; it costs—a lot.

Skin in the game

Something I’ve often found challenging in modern eldering rhetoric, particularly that focused on climate change and other activism, is that it’s so often about ‘doing it for their grandkids.’ And indeed, that focus is often referenced explicitly, like with Canada’s For Our Kids and For Our Grandchildren; the US’s 1000 Grandmothers for Future Generations, Climate Grannies and Moms Clean Air Force, the ‘Green Grannies’ highlighted in this UK newspaper article, or the Finnish Aktivistimummot (‘Activist Grannies’). And there are plenty more where these came from.

And whilst this is an understandable focus, as a woman aging without children it can trigger a real sense of exclusion, as can blanket statements such as, ‘What makes these grandmothers remarkable is an unwavering sense of responsibility, a quality shared by grandmothers worldwide,’ or that ‘Grandmothers possess a unique perspective as women and elders, offering a form of influence that transcends generations.’

When I was still grieving my involuntary childlessness, such statements might have alienated and shamed me, and I could have read into them a harmful intent I no longer do. And while I can be compassionate towards their aims, as all marginalized groups know, intent and impact are not the same thing. And with an average of 1 in 5 women in Westernised countries ageing without children (some by choice; mostly not), and with a rising tide of many more non-parents to come in younger generations, this is an awful lot of people to exclude from efforts to make the human future on this planet more bearable.

I may not have children and grandchildren, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about future generations!

I guess it’s just another manifestation of the lazy pronatlist trope that says that women without kids are selfish, despite people without children bequeathing more to charity than any other group, as well as being more involved in the lives of others through work and volunteering. Indeed, a study of 10,000 Australian women in their seventies quoted by Bella DePaulo found that ‘lifelong single women with no children were more likely to provide volunteer services than any of the other groups they studied.’

So, when people say it ‘takes a village’, they often forget that there are probably quite a few people without kids in that village.

Perhaps the fact that I don’t have children gives my desire to support younger and future generations in our collapsing ecological, economic, political and societal world a different flavour? Without the instinctual urge to look out for my own descendants, perhaps my care can be seen as something broader, and maybe altriustic in a different, and equally necessary way, in that it spreads across all the younger generations alive and those to come, and to both the human and more-than-human inhabitants of our beautiful and hurting world.

A moment of Eldering

I was at a wedding of a young couple recently. A man in his mid-twenties came to sit with me for a chat; he was curious about my work as a psychotherapist and writer. He told me that when he’d left college, he’d had a couple of very lost years as he couldn’t see the point in investing in a career when the world was falling apart; he’d found his way to counselling and had been diagnosed with ‘eco anxiety’ and, using that framework, had found a way to make sense of his distress and had pivoted into work that felt meaningful to him.

I shared with him that supporting younger generations in this time of collapse was very important to me and that, ‘Although I might not be on the barricades with you, I’ll be behind them with soup, support and care.’ It was a genuine remark, if a bit of a throwaway one, and I did not expect his response. He looked me directly in the eyes, his charming social mask falling away to reveal a much more flinty young man. ‘Why don’t more people your age think like that?’ he said. ‘All they care about is how they look and the size of their old arses!’ I nodded. As someone who does indeed worry about the size of her old arse, I get how pathetic that must seem; I find it pretty sad myself. And so I asked him something I’d been wondering for a while: ‘How does it feel when you hear that ‘‘Gen Z will sort it out!?’ He looked even grimmer. ‘Well, let’s just say those aren’t the ones we’ll be saving,’ he said, and I received it with the seriousness it deserved. And then a song by a band I’d never heard of started up on the dancefloor, and he transformed back into a young wedding guest. As he stood up to join his friends, he put his hand briefly on my shoulder. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

I think that was a moment of Eldering. A moment to witness his generation’s pain without dismissing it, and to bear it without defensiveness. A moment of intergenerational connection and solidarity I will never forget.

And the fact that I am not a mother and will never be a grandmother was irrelevant to both of us.

As our world's natural and social structures continue to unravel, steady hearts, minds and souls will be needed to hold us. This has always been one of the roles of Elders. But in a society that lionises youth and demonises aging, what does it mean to be or become an elder? How much ‘apprenticeship with sorrow,’ as Francis Weller calls it, might it take until we are filed down to the bone and can reveal both the beauty and grief of humanning, and with enough grace and gallows humour for it to be palatable?

What if part of being an Elder, is surviving our own bullshit?

Perhaps once we accept that we’re not getting out of here alive, no matter what we do or don’t do for our health, and that our appointment with death is written in invisible but indelible link—we can finally loosen our egos grip on life, lighten up and finish (or start) growing up so that we can be of meaningful service. Because surely the point of wisdom is not to hoard it; it’s to give it away.

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An invitation to our seventeenth(!) free ‘Fireside Wisdom’ webinar - Eldering in a Time of Collapse, 29 March.

As 'business as usual' for industrial modernity dissolves, many are seeking wisdom to guide us. For me, those nomo (not-mother) Elders who have been around the block and have had their dreams dashed and their hearts broken many times are those I look to learn from and emulate—both in terms of how to ride the winds of change, as well as how to take care of ourselves, and each other, as we do so. Because we can all become Good Ancestors, regardless of whether we have children or not.

FREE, LIVE & RECORDED: This is a free public event. Whatever your age, reproductive identity, gender expression, or other identity or social location, you are very welcome. As it is a webinar, neither your name nor voice will be on the screen—only those of the panellists. The live chat will be moderated. The video recording of the event (but not the chat) will be sent out 24 hours after the event to all who register. Click here to register

Meet your NomoCrone Panellists (nomo = not-mother + crone is not an insult!)

CHAT MODERATOR: RUTH BERKOWITZ (USA) is in her mid-fifties and is a Holistic Well-being Coach for childless-not-by-choice people and an Insight Meditation Teacher. With support and time, she has found new perspectives and new directions to belonging and purpose and guides other involuntarily childless women and men in navigating grief, finding acceptance, and looking to what’s next. She holds a Master of Arts in Counseling Psychology with an Emphasis in Spiritual Psychology. Within the Childless Collective online community (formerly the Gateway Women online community), Ruth hosts its Mispacha group (for childless Jewish women). https://yourlemonadelife.com/

DR STELLA DUFFY OBE (UK/NZ) is in her early 60s and lives in the UK. She is an existential psychotherapist, and her doctoral research was on the embodied experience of postmenopause. She’s also a yoga teacher who teaches yoga for writers. She’s the author of seventeen (yes, you read that right) novels, over seventy short stories, as well as plays, feature articles and reviews. She and her wife are childless due to cancer treatment and subsequent failed IVF. http://stelladuffy.blog

ELIZABETH GRAMBSCH (USA) is 60. A musician, performance coach and licensed Gateway Women workshop facilitator, she lives with her husband near Minneapolis, USA; they are childless due to health-related issues and multiple miscarriages. Elizabeth has shared Germanic and Obijwe heritage, which deeply informs her approach to ancestral healing and reintegration after trauma. elizabethgrambsch.com

MARIA HILL (US) is in her 70s. She is a World Childless Week Ambassador and a long-time member of the Gateway Women/Childless Collective online community. She is the founder of Sensitive Evolution and the author of The Emerging Sensitive: A Guide For Finding Your Place In The World. She is a writer, coach, healer, and transformative thinker illuminating the connection between culture, identity and the self. She can be found on her Substack, A Different Dream, where she discusses the current cultural shift from hierarchical to egalitarian systems. https://mariahill.substack.com

MUTIMA IMANI (Turtle Island/USA) is a social justice visionary, reverend, master trainer and facilitator working to heal the heart of humanity by providing 21st-century tools for personal/professional development and transformation. As a global diversity specialist, she is highly skilled at bringing diverse groups together to practice heart-centeredness, resolve conflicts, transmute old wounds and establish new relationships where all are seen and honored. Imani works with people conducting Civic Leadership Training and Restorative Justice Circles. She has a Master’s Degree in Public Administration with an emphasis in Phenomenology. Imani is passionate about how all things work together and what humans can learn from the natural world. She is a trainer for the Work that Reconnects International Facilitation Development Program called the Spiral Journey, which is based on the root teachings of Joanna Macy. Queen Rev. Mutima Imani is inspired to call forth the highest intention and innate wisdom in people for a more loving world. https://mutimaimani.com/

SUZAN MUIR (AUS) is in her late fifties and experienced a powerful and intentional rite of passage in her early fifties to become a young elder; she subsequently identifies as Earth, Listening and Speaking with Clarity and Being – a Young Elder Leading Powerfully with Her Heart. Her passion for the fascinating complexity of self-generated food and energy systems has fueled her lifelong vocation of weaving sustainable connections between humans, plants, animals, soil and sustenance. She is also passionate about working with women at all stages of their lives to deepen their connection to their authentic and powerful inner selves and to the natural world through nature-based programs. The grief of living her life without children and the forest surrounding her home have been her greatest teachers. In 2023, Suzan spent 63 days alone, during winter, in the New Zealand wilderness, hunting and foraging, living under a small tarpaulin. She documented this experience, and a very small part of it can be seen on ‘Alone Australia Season 2’ on SBS On Demand and the History Channel. grampiansnatureprograms.org

EMMA PALMER (UK) is in her mid-fifties and is the author of the book, ‘Other than Mother’, exploring the parenthood decision-making process from many facets, including ecopsychological ones. It was nominated for a 2016 Population Institute Global Media Award. Emma was named Childfree Person of the Year in 2018 and is enthusiastic about building bridges between the childless and childfree in the face of ongoing pronatalism. She lives with her partner in Bristol, England, and works as a psychotherapist, facilitator, and ecopsychologist. She’s written four other books and is working on her fifth, for, and with her ancestors. She’s been practicing Buddhism in an earth-honouring way since her early 20s, and loves the meeting place of centuries-old animistic contemplation and 21st-century action. www.kamalamani.co.uk

SARAH ROBERTS (AUS) is in her mid-fifties and is the founder of The Empty Cradle, which offers support to childless-not-by-choice women to grieve losses, navigate complex thoughts and feelings, feel more confident in social spaces and workplaces and move forward with confidence in their futures. She co-leads the Gateway Women Reignite Weekend program in Australia and New Zealand. Sarah and her husband live in an outer-suburban acreage of Brisbane and are part of a local community of intention, including supporting each other through ageing and death. This has emerged from long-term native ecosystem regeneration work and Sarah’s background and interest in social activism and permaculture, along with her counselling and community work skill sets. https://theemptycradle.com/

VICKI ROBIN (US) is in her late 70s and is a prolific social innovator, writer and speaker. She is coauthor with Joe Dominguez of the international best-seller and classic, Your Money or Your Life: Transforming Your Relationship With Money and Achieving Financial Independence (Viking Penguin, 1992, 1998, 2008, 2018), and author of Blessing the Hands that Feed Us; Lessons from a 10-mile diet (Viking/Penguin 2014). She is co-founder of Conversation Cafes and of the 10-Day Local Food Challenge, and hosts the podcast/YouTube interview series, What Could Possibly Go Right?, inviting cultural scouts to shine a light on what’s emerging as the pandemic, climate, the economy and polarization unravel the old normal. A non-mother, currently, she’s exploring ‘the unmapped territory from older to elder’ on her Substack Coming of Aging. Vicki serves on the Board of the Post Carbon Institute and lives by herself on Whidbey Island in Washington State, USA. https://vickirobin.com/

DONNA WARD (AUS) is 70 and is a writer, editor, publisher and former psychotherapist from Western Australia who now lives in Melbourne. She is the author of a 2020 memoir, She I Dare Not Name: A Spinster’s Meditations on Life, published by Allen & Unwin Australia, and the CEO of a new Australian organisation, Singlehood Australia www.singlehoodaustralia.org campaigning on the issues facing single women in Australia. donna-ward.com.au

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Watch previously recorded 'Fireside Wisdom' sessions here.