Note: Jordan Peterson is now 62. Not surprising that he now turns his attention to the decades ahead in his own life, and of course, offers his advice to the rest of us, all of whom, of course, are aging, — whether slowly or quickly, that is the question. And he’s right: the pace of it IS largely up to us, our conscious decisions, lifelong. See video below.
It was the summer after my senior year in high school when I realized walking was good for my mind. With seventeen largely obedient “good girl” years under my belt, I had just landed a full-time summer typing job at the local hospital (at $1/hour to “help pay for college”), and after that first day of meaningless eight-hours of sitting for that, to me, utterly boring, meaningless task, I was so full of fiery fury that I refused the scheduled ride home from my mom and instead walked two miles. By the time I got home, my fury was spent. From then on I knew, walking was good for me; it would pull me, my mind and soul and spirit, back into balance with my body.
That was back in 1960, long before I “ended up as” an astrologer, consulting, teaching, presenting and writing in that vast field of endeavor that, even now, fills me with energy.
That walk home from slave labor “work” each day that summer was the beginning of what has become a lifetime of recognizing that as long as I am here on Earth, “the body is primary;” that unless I take care for it every single day, I will shrivel up early and end up a parasite on society. Thus was born what I named, about ten years ago, my “two hours of physical culture” a day. For me, that’s usually, vigorous walking (3-4 miles), yoga, chikung and taichi. I do not skip a day. Not ever.
That means I’ve had to pattern my life so that those two hours are scheduled in, as primary. The body first. No matter what else is going on. No matter how complex my life, and how complicated each aspect of that complexity. (See Clif High for the visual difference between complexity and complication. Wonderful insight, leads us naturally into dimensionality.)
And, BTW, at 82, the complexity has only increased, rather than decreased. I thought I’d be surprised. After all, at my age, isn’t it time to “slow down”? Well, I have slowed down considerably; I take a daily nap, 1-2 pm sharp, which in part compensates for waking up every hour or two in the night to pee and to let animals in or out. In the sense that I no longer enjoy the extraordinary stamina required to “read” astrology charts (which I had to construct, using math, which I hated, and then draw as a unique personal mandala for each client on parchment paper; no internet back then!) in a single day while on “work trips” (from Jackson Hole, where I lived, for many years in a 20-foot yurt directly across from the Grand Teton) to San Francisco or Salt Lake City. Nor do I instantly, naturally, spring up in the morning, my double Sagittarian fire (Sun, Ascendant plus Mars, with Sun exactly conjunct the GC) eager to greet the day, igniting like a rocket heading into space. Which IS where I spent most of my time, eagery absorbing and learning to comprehend continuously changing, cycling, spiraling planetary configurations in the heavens from the infinitely changing points of view that match up to the unique experiences of millions of sovereign souls embodied on earth. I used to think: “If only people would learn astrology! For it is a universal language, cross-cultural! The planets are the same, no matter where one is located on Earth!
That was a somewhat naive view, not taking into account all the infinite varieties of subtle complications in all sorts of geographic, cultural psychic, familial, etc. complexities (and all their intricate complications!). Plus of course, I learned over time, that there are a number of different types of astrology, all of them offering their own intriguing ways of “making sense” from various levels of awareness. Plus of course, there’s the ultimately mystifying and phenomenally intriguing questions of reincarnation, thus involving old souls and young souls, and how to tell the differences between them in a natal chart!
SO. What would be the universal language? Well, I think Jordan Peterson’s video pretty well outlines the unstated living contract which everyone who is in a body on planet earth must agree to sign on to — body, mind, and soul — in order even begin to live a long full life. In other words, put aside all bodily differences — color, sex, DNA, type, plus all mental and emotional differences — education, language, religion, culture, class, world-view, etc. indeed i.e., setting all “identities” of any kind, to use today’s politicized spin, aside as utterly irrelevant.
Are you going to just “get old”? Or are you going to “grow old?” And if so, likely live much longer than the former, BTW. In other words, can you during your third Saturn cycle (60-90) and perhaps behond, be available to others, so that they may glean the wisdom you’ve gained from long hard experiences that included, and still do! — processing all sorts of suffering.
I do differ with Peterson on his view that “the body is a machine.” I’d say yes, but. Though it’s true that we must keep in motion to stay in full-on aliveness (just as young plants grow stronger when beset by wind), the body is not just a Cartesian machine, but rather, I’d say, more a Jungian extension of our unconscious mind, which speaks to us of what it needs, NOW, at any moment, IF we are consciously attuned to it. In this way of viewing the world, bodily symptoms are actually symbols, which need to acknowledged, honored, and plumbed in various ways.
Plus, I see the body as an extension of earth; earth breathing through a particular antenna. Her state of health is ours, and vice versa. And yes, Earth herself, breathes, exchanges energy with the atmosphere, interpenetrating with every other living entity, all in a vast sensual, symphonic penetration of all in all. Yes! Not only alive, but conscious! Consciousness precedes matter. Matter is condensed from consciousness, each entity, micro to macro, breathing in and out, continuously replenishing and being nourished by the invisible atmosphere in which we, and every other embodied being, is immersed: even plants, even planets, even other people.
On my morning walks through various beautiful natural surroundings (IU is known for its beautiful campus) I look around and see very few students who are actually inside their bodies, Rather, I see detached minds, usually on screen, or lost in earplug sound, or clutching phones (like baby bottles, I think) as they step awkwardly, usually, by. As if they have just gotten up off the couch, or out of bed. No real energy, no rhythm. Many more or less obese, and young women especially, no matter what their size, tend to display their bodies as if they are naked underneath skin tight coverings. As if advertising their bodies. Yes, I and my body are one! My body is me! I am only my body. Perhaps even not ensouled. A clone. Or an NPC. Or drug addled. Or sugar/white flour intoxicated. Easy prey for young men, who then, are supposed to “leave me alone,” despite their hormonal surges.
This attitude toward the body could not be more different than what Jordan Peterson and myself recognize. When he first achieved his public figure status, he castigated today’s youth, so accustomed to being coddled by their often absent parents, to “make your bed and clean your room!” Now, at 62, he’s saying the same thing, in fact insisting on it, knowing that most people, even if they are physically active when young, ignore the fact that their muscles, for example, waste away over time. Sarcopenia, it’s called. And at 82, I must work actively, to reverse it, lest I fall; lest I fall and cannot get up; lest I fall and break my hip or knee or ankle: for without walking, so much has it been a part of me for nearly 60 years, that not being able to walk, for even just several months, might turn into the beginning of my end.
I walk fast, energetically, rhythmically, grateful every single second for my continued vitality and the lifelong practices which have gotten me to where I am! Also, for me, especially, another hour daily of yoga/chikung/taichi is all utterly essential to maintain flexibility and the continuous dynamic flow of the life force (called, in the east, “chi”) as I move forward in time, seeking, as ever, to be of service to the whole while embodied.
Then there’s intermittent fasting, which for me, has become an 18/6 routine: a pattern which requires me to very carefully schedule my day, at every level. And of course, there’s also the necessity to be somewhat flexible, to, for example, eat an hour earlier or later, depending on everything else.
Because thes physical patterns must be maintained, it sets me up for all the rest of what he’s talking about. And I agree with him wholeheartedly. Indeed, it could have been me speaking the words coming out of his mouth, though not nearly with such diverse and wondrous articulation. Thank you Jordan Peterson. Although I’ve mostly ignored you, put off to some extent by the dour, superior look that usually sits upon your face these days, I should have known I was misinterpreting. Hey! That dour superior look is what I appear to have also, unless I remember to beam. Yes, the flesh tends to fall; and at 82, I’m sometimes shocked by what I see in the mirror, until I remember to smile into my own image, lighting up the eyes I see there which I do realize, light up my surroundings as I continue to walk through life into the unknown.
Oh yes, one other difference I note with my view of growing older. I agree, yes, of course, we must remain independent, and not depend on family to take over, if we wish to maintain our sovereignty. On the other hand, in my case, the opposite has happened. Family has come to the rescue, not of me, but of my younger son, now 59-year-old Colin, confined to a nursing home with nerve damage and paralysis after a heart event that should have killed him, for going on two years! He had not been caring for his own independent bodily life for a number of years. Was both overweight and smoked cigarettes. In his case, apparently, he needed a terrific jolt to enter the next phase of his life (at 57, the start of his Saturn return), one which would suddenly blast open not just his physical heart, but his emotional and spiritual heart as well. Before he was all defensive ego mind, continuously seeing into the future: “I will be happy when . . .”
Now Colin is forcibly confined to the present moment, which has yielded the gift of presence, of gratitude for simply being alive, a gratitude and a presence that now enfolds not just him, but his older brother Sean (nerly 61) and me, his mother as well. All of us knowing, and caring for, each other much more fully than when they were young and I was a graduate student in philosophy, propelled, with fiery propulsive force, despite my steady Taurus Moon, to abandon mothering to pursue my philosophical quest. Nor was their father any better parent; in fact he was worse, a total narcissist. Neither of our sons got the mothering, or the fathering, they needed.
I ask now, so how is this different from other broken families, which are legion? Answer: it isn’t. We are all suffering from the unprocessed grief over past losses, disconnections, which we usually, bitterly try to avoid remembering or else project our need for love out unto each new seemingly available Other — and that relationship always “breaks up” as well. Childhood patterns repeat, endlessly. Atomization. Disconnection. Unprocessed grief that gets projected into addictions, unfulfilled expectations, frustration, rage, on and on.
Yet, underneath, it’s always FEAR. Fear of actually being present in the world, present within one’s own body, fully present to this life, this suffering, this beautiful, tragic enactment of birth, life, death, over and over again, within one lifetime. Always, the ascending and descending arcs within the spiraling cycles of life, no matter how large or small. Without our even needing to pay attention, our bodies breath in and out, that mysterious life force that nourishes always, everywhere at once, forever.
I told him this morning: I think your heart event was no accident; that your soul required this of you in order to begin to fulfill your destiny.
At this point, he is in total agreement. And very happy that what “happened” to him was the catalyst for our tiny three-person family unity. (The father is long dead.) I had no idea we would achieve this extraordinary closeness in my life time. But here it is. Thank you Colin, and Sean, and me, since I have managed to not just “get old” and thus can be fully present for our dramatic entrance into a fuller family love!
BTW: Except for strange events that occur regularly and almost, but do not, kill him, and leave him bedridden for a few days, Colin is now mostly in his high powered chair during the day, leaving the nursing home to roll all sorts of places nearby. He reminds me now, of when he was a kid, always so curious and interested in the world around him. That hasn’t changed. That has only increased.
