I’m weathered, not withered

Leah_Friedman .jpeg

In my early seventies I was in graduate school, studying myth, comparative religion, psychology, and learning a whole new way to look at the world

Dr. Leah Friedman, expert in Mythological Studies and Depth Psychology, and author

There’s a beautiful black and white image of a flowered bulb on the cover of The Unexpected Adventure of Growing Old, a book written by Dr. Leah Friedman. The photo, as I discovered in the first pages, was taken by the author herself and is the key to our encounter. It’s because she broke the ice with symbolic photography in her sixties that Dr. Friedman’s life became a story that deserves to be told in this space, thirty years on. Listening to the subtle messages of the images she took, she began to - literally - follow the thread of her dreams. That’s how, at the age of 69, after a career as an audiologist, she enrolled at university again and four years later she received her PhD in Mythological Studies and Depth Psychology.

With her accomplishments, Dr. Friedman did more than adding life to her years. Her story and her writings, in fact, demonstrate that it’s possible to flee the current script of aging. The powerful lead of creativity - in her case, symbolic photography - was the trigger. Armed with T.S. Eliot’s quote: “Old men ought to be explorers,” she took the least traveled road and in her books, the first of which was presented to her family during a special ceremony on her eightieth birthday, Dr. Friedman shares reflections and wisdom about this season of life made of many seasons.

Full of gifts, Dr. Friedman offered me an unexpected treasure. Just as the pandemic is crushing my expectations for a summer immersed in the mesmerizing beauty of Greece, she retrieves the image of Hekate, her favorite Greek goddess. Portrayed in triple form as the holder of the mystery of birth, death, and rebirth, Hekate was associated with magic, witchcraft, knowledge of herbs, poisonous plants, sorcery and necromancy. Along with Hermes, the god’s messenger, she accompanied Persephone on her way back to Earth from the Underworld. Not taken literally, I find the latter element particularly interesting. As repositories of memory, older generations bridge the gap between those who came before and those who are coming next through the power of storytelling. But there’s more: Hekate’s myth was adopted by the Ancient Romans who called her “Trivia,” a goddess associated with crossroads. Stemming from Dr. Friedman’s intuition: I like to think that aging has its tutelary deity, one who embodies the idea that, ahead, there are open roads to travel.

Where are you from and how did your earlier years shape you into the person you are today?

I was born in 1928 on a cotton and tobacco farm in North Carolina and grew up during the Great Depression. I have often felt that, unlike the usual saying, I was an apple that rolled far from the tree. My parents were Southern Baptists, with little education and followed the patterns of segregation that prevailed in the South at that time. I had a younger deaf brother who was attending school in St. Louis, Missouri, so I entered Washington University to become a teacher of the deaf. I met and fell in love with a young Jewish man who had just returned from serving in the Navy in WWII.

Because my parents objected to his religion and to his radical views, after going home following my first year, they refused to allow me to return to St. Louis. So, at age eighteen I ran away from home, determined to be with the man I loved, leaving my former life behind. We married in 1948 and graduated together in 1949. My parents did not speak to me for many years. So, my early years shaped me more in that I resisted and in many respects rejected my parents’ way of life. I had to fashion my own path alongside my husband.

What did you do before getting your master’s degree and becoming an author?

I received a B.A. in Psychology from Washington University in St. Louis in 1949. Immediately after college, my husband and I went to graduate school at the University of Iowa where I received a master’s degree in Audiology and Speech Pathology in 1952. Following that I worked as Director of a preschool for handicapped children and after our move back to St. Louis I taught at St. Joseph’s Institute for the Deaf. By then I had two daughters. I did not become an author until I was in my eighties, after I received my PhD from Pacifica Graduate Institute in 2002.

How did you become a still life photographer and begin to explore the symbolic imagery of the unconscious?

After my children went off to college I searched for a satisfying creative outlet and discovered black and white photography. After becoming interested in Jungian psychology, I realized that my still-life images were reflections of my unconscious and decided to explore that with a Jungian analyst. I worked with her for about seven years, beginning in my sixties. 

We are used to the idea that psychology can help us to elaborate our past, but it seems that it helped you to propel yourself into the future. Do you think we should reconsider its role when we age?

It was not until my sixties that I began to learn about Jungian psychology, which led me to work with a Jungian analyst. This exposure undoubtedly helped make my late years so satisfying. I gained a deeper understanding of my conflicts, but more importantly, was introduced to my strengths, both emotionally and intellectually. It was the insights and encouragement I received through what might be called "inner work" that impelled me to go back to school. Pacifica was a good choice since it combined both high academic standards while also supporting creative endeavors that explored psychological themes. I consider my experience there among the most significant and fulfilling of my life. 

You mentioned that a series of recurring dreams pointed your way to Pacifica. Can you share more?

Much of my work in analysis was in examining dreams. I began having a series of dreams in which I was at a university. At first my analyst thought that was because, though I was invited to stay for the PhD at the University of Iowa (in 1952 when I was 23), my husband decided we would leave. (He was not invited to stay by his department.) In spite of this interpretation, the dreams continued. Finally my analyst suggested that perhaps I was being called to go back to school now.

Though at first the notion seemed ludicrous—I was much too old!—I realized that the thought of going back to school was thrilling. I had a final dream in which I was on a campus and was directed to a building where I was to study. Emblazoned across the front of the building was the word CALIFORNIA. So, at age 69 I enrolled at Pacifica Graduate Institute near Santa Barbara. I received my PhD in Mythological Studies and Depth Psychology at age 73 in 2002, exactly 50 years after my degree from the University of Iowa.

Like you, I am fascinated by the Jungian idea of archetypes. What are the archetypes of aging?

Archetypes, according to Jung, are universal patterns and images that exist in the collective unconscious and are found in myth, stories, dreams, and religion. They are given expression by individuals and their culture. Examples of aging archetypes are wise old man, elder, aging woman, grandmother, old fool, sage, crone, plus many others. 

Do you have a favorite archetype of aging?

My favorite is the Crone, based on the ancient Greek goddess Hekate, who was one of the deities I wrote about in my dissertation. As I described her: “Hekate is known, among other things, as a crone, and thus serves as a symbol for aging women. My vision of the crone is that of a lively figure, nothing like the dictionary definition, which is ‘a withered old woman.’ Withered? That implies something dried up and shriveled, depleted of life-giving sap—hardly my view of myself or of Hekate!

Being a crone in the image of Hekate suggests to me not so much ‘withered’ as ‘weathered’: the proud accumulation of a patina resulting from life-long exposure to all seasons and situations, slowly developing the wrinkles and warts, spots and stains that proclaim the depth and substance of a woman’s experiences. Because a crone is old, she has endured all kinds of weather; toughness and vigor are required for such perseverance… I imagine an old woman in the manner of Hekate to be strong-willed, feisty, highly spirited, often overly zealous about odd things, but appealing in her eccentricities. One who has lived through the ups and downs of a long life has earned the right to some peculiarities.”

You talked about the different stages of old age. What are their peculiarities?

Yes, there are stages of aging. We experience our aging differently when we are in our sixties or seventies than in our eighties or nineties. Often in our mid-sixties we become aware of some inner shift, an acknowledgment that we are no longer young or middle-aged, bringing on the question: What is happening to me? In our seventies we begin to settle into our aging process. During this stage many people find new interests and creative projects. In my early seventies I was in graduate school, for three years traveling monthly from St. Louis to California, studying myth, comparative religion, psychology, and learning a whole new way to look at the world. During this decade my husband developed Alzheimer’s Disease and my daughter became gravely ill. He died when I was seventy-nine; fortunately she recovered.

My eighties were productive, a time of fulfillment, serenity, and self-realization. I have often said that the years between sixty-five and eighty-five were the most productive and fulfilling of my life. In my late seventies I started writing and have published four books. The first, Leafings and Branchings is the story of my life, presented to my family on my eightieth birthday. In the second, The Power of Ritual: How It Can Change Our Lives, I share many of the more than hundred rituals I have created and conducted, including those that are personal and family rituals; those of friendship, commitment, and separation; celebrations of creativity; initiations of Crones and Elders; and ceremonies of release and renewal.

The third is The Unexpected Adventure of Growing Old, a topic I have long been interested in. I wanted to present a more positive outlook on aging, so in this book I look at my own experiences as well as draw upon the observations of others. The fourth is Late-Life Reflections, comprised of short essays I wrote in the two years before I reached age ninety.  I have kept writing and have forty more reflections ready to compile into a fifth book. Now in my early nineties I have more physical challenges—largely my hearing loss, but have remained active by going to yoga class twice a week and doing fitness sessions twice weekly as well. I am in overall very good health, which is a great blessing. I have enormous gratitude for the life I have been given.

I never thought about it before, but we have different rites of passage for the other stages of life and none for aging. How would a ritual change the perception of this time?

You are correct that there are no traditional rites of passage honoring our transition from middle age to old age. When I reached sixty-five I was eager to be initiated into the Sisterhood of Crones. As I said in my invitation, "Having passed through the stages of Maiden and Mother, I am ready to embrace the third and final stage of my life: old age. I am ready to be a Crone, a woman who has lived long, learned much, and loved deeply." Since that time I have conducted ceremonies honoring women as Crones, and men as Elders.

These rituals help all of us think more seriously about what traits we have developed that will help us with this transition and what qualities we would like to further develop as we grow into old age. Guests, often mentees, speak of the characteristics they admire and have found helpful. They also talk about old people in their lives who have served as role models. Those taking part in these rituals have found them deeply moving and confirming regarding moving into this last stage of life.

Your story proves that we should resist the way society pigeonholes us on the basis of our age. What suggestions would you give in this regard?

Yes, there certainly are stereotypes based on age. Our youth-worshipping culture has been particularly disparaging regarding the old, often picturing us as disabled, dependent, and slightly demented. My observations and my experience suggest otherwise. As a group we are now living longer and are in better health than ever before. We need to speak up, as the individuals you have interviewed are doing, whether in the arts, in academia, in public service, or as ordinary citizens in our communities.

My suggestion is that we look at the special characteristics of each individual rather than seeing the old lumped together into one preconceived category. Old people are merely older versions of young people except that we have acquired more knowledge and experience, and perhaps a bit of wisdom. We are complex, differ from one another, and deserve to be treated and respected as unique personalities.

In the face of the growing awareness for ageism, stemming from your “collection,” what late-life reflections would you like to share?

In my book Late-Life Reflections, written in the two years before my ninetieth birthday, I gathered 36 short essays on a wide variety of topics, divided into sections on Body & Soul, Family & Friends, Who Am I? and Transitions. These highly personal musings were written primarily for my family, but I decided to share them with friends and others as well. I have found that many old women and men have found that my observations resonate with their personal experiences of aging and that younger persons are interested in knowing how I am experiencing these later years of my life. The response has been most gratifying. As I mentioned, I have continued to write these reflections and now have enough for another book.

There’s a lot of talking about social isolation and distances between generations. What is your experience?

I am so glad you asked this, for I feel that one of the most important things we as old people can do is to remain in close touch with those younger than we are. One way to counter ageism is for us to form relationships with persons of all ages. I am particularly fortunate in that regard. I have five adult grandchildren—four girls and one boy—and even though they do not live close by, I am very close with all of them. I also have a wide variety of friends, all of whom are younger than I am—in their fifties, sixties, seventies, and eighties. I feel it is vitally important that there be contact between generations. I learn a lot from my grandchildren and younger friends, and my hope is that they also benefit from our relationship. 

In this time of raging pandemic, isolation is a serious danger for the elderly. What suggestions would you give to address this issue?

Yes, isolation is a serious danger for the elderly. I have now lived alone for fifteen years, and have found it a satisfying life style. However, I am well aware that too much aloneness can be extremely detrimental to our mental health. In my book The Unexpected Adventure of Growing Old, I have a chapter titled “The Solace of Solitude” in which I describe the difference between solitude, which can be comforting and rewarding in that it provides an opportunity for renewal and revitalization, and loneliness, which I see as a temporary state in which connections exist but are missing or distorted for a while.

Isolation, on the other hand, is being cut off from all human contact, leaving us with feelings of desolation and abandonment. Such seclusion can bring on severe depression. We must be careful to maintain some kind of social contact even in this era of “social distancing.” I have found the use of phone calls or FaceTime to be enormously helpful in keeping in touch with my family and friends.

You quoted T.S. Eliot: “Old men ought to be explorers.” It seems that we are brought up to fear aging, instead. What is your take?

We are indeed taught that aging is something to be feared, partly because of our concern about becoming ill, and anxiety regarding death, but also a fear of dependency and irrelevancy. If we can replace our dread with an attitude of openness and expectation, then we may well find, as I have, that there is also much joy and fulfillment to be found as we age. I like the Eliot quote because it suggests that instead of focusing on the negative aspects, we might look to our later years as an opportunity to develop new skills, to find new creative outlets, to travel to new places, to discover new fields of study, to form new relationships, perhaps even to experience a new way of life. If we use this time of life to explore unknown territories, then perhaps we will be less afraid. I also find that like most old people I have little fear of death.

I love your sentence: “What a privilege it is to grow old.” It’s a very liberating concept. What are the most precious lessons in your journey?

A great question, but hard to list my most precious lessons, there are so many! Perhaps my greatest joy is that I have lived long enough not only to see my daughters become mothers and now grandmothers, but also to see my granddaughters become mothers. I now have five great-grandchildren. I have had the pleasure of seeing my grandchildren become accomplished, successful, loving adults, making their way in the world. I had a marriage that lasted almost sixty years. Beyond the blessings of my family, I was fortunate in being able to go back to school at 69, receiving a PhD at 73.

I have had the great satisfaction of writing four books late in life. I have become close with many interesting and devoted friends, all much younger than I. I am immensely grateful for these decades of my sixties, seventies, eighties, and now nineties, which have given me the opportunity to get better acquainted with my authentic self, to become more contemplative, and to find a blessed serenity in my old age. To quote the final sentences of my book on aging, “I rejoice in the life I have lived; it has been a marvelous fulfilling adventure, one I could never have imagined. What a privilege it is to grow old.”

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Like racism, ageism is a script imposed on other people’s bodies