BROTHER ASS

 

     Many of you may know this phrase, which comes from St. Francis, speaking about his own body, which he admitted on his death bed (actually death--earth as was lying on the soil) he had not cared for very well. He had terrible eyes, after an infection, and was almost blind; he had trouble walking; and his body was afflicted with numerous aches and pains. He died at the age of 45 they believe, which in his times was not too bad.

 

  Nevertheless! Some of you may know that we are celebrating the 800th anniversary of St. Francis, one of the most visible and beloved of the Catholic Church's saints. He reaches out to so many, not just Catholics, and has become the patron of ecology and for some, environmental justice. I think of him as actually an Indigenous person in the guise of a Medieval man. Who gave up everything to become a poor friar, evangelizing people, preaching, writing his inspiring Canticles of the Sun and the Moon, inventing the first live Creche in Gubio, and so much more.

   But I want to talk about how we do--or don't--take care of our own Brother Asses, or, as a woman, should probably be Sister Ass. We live in a culture where enormous sums of money and massive amounts of time are devoted to taking care of our bodies. Diet pills (I am not agin them for those who need them), 

eye tucks, facial surgery, ass surgery, refusing to eat anything that is not organic, gym memberships, exercise clubs, marathons,mall of which may be good, and so much more. Could our parents have been any more appalled and baffled by this, being folks who were born during World War I? I don't think I ever saw my Mom run, although she did take walks up our road. Dad used to be a fantastic tennis player and actually coached John D. Rockefeller's kids, as well as playing golf at one time. But I saw little of that growing up.

  What constitutes a sensible way of caring for Brother or Sister Ass? These are things that I have found work for me to keep me basically healthy, and perhaps they may work for you as well.

--I make sure to get outside every day for at least 15 min. This helps both my body and soul.

 

--I try not to sit too long (the new smoking) and get moving and keep moving. I prefer walking on the deck for 4, 15-min. brisk sessions, as well as walking our JRT when the weather permits.

--I garden whenever I have the spoons to do it, although I must say I have more gardens--flowers and veggies--than I can really cope with.If you don't have a garden, try using pots. I have a friend in a nearby town who plants herbs, flowers, and lettuce in containers on her back steps. This delights her soul and also keeps her bending and stretching.

 

--We are lucky to have a backyard pool (which Rick takes fantastic care of), and once it is warm enough I find swimming a great way to keep my aging body flexible.

--Back in the day I took both Tai Chi and Yoga classes. You can find these online as well as Pilates Classes. Both incorporate a lot of stretching and postures which encourage flexibility and help one's balance.

 

--I am not sure life is worth living without a dog, and having one means I have to get out and walk her up the road. St. Francis probably wouldn't have countenanced having a dog or a pet (although he did help the people of Gubio deal with a ravenous wolf who was terrorizing the town), but having a dog keeps you fit and heart-whole.

--I try to watch what I eat without being too finicky about it. It doesn't have to be organic all the time (and I know there is a name for this, almost an eating disorder), but it is good if it is healthy. I plan meals with lots of green and colorful vegetables, fruits, lean chicken and fish, and very little red meat. Whole grains are important as well. I imagine our saint probably had a restricted diet of bread with the occasional fish thrown in. 

  And when things start to fall apart--as they inevitably will as one ages--I try not to obsess about "what used to be" and "what I used to be able to do" and gracefully accept the limitations of aging. I am not always successful at this. "I used to be able to garden for 3 hours!" I moan to my husband. Now, I am lucky if I can do 1-1&1/2 hours tops.

 

  If you are tempted to bemoan what was, I find that the practice of gratitude helps me.

I remember sitting beside my Mom, 3 days before she died, as she patted her leg and said, "I am grateful I can still walk." I take my cue from her, being grateful I am upright, can still garden, love cooking, can walk a fair amount and more. Or, as the famous Norwegian phrase goes: when someone asks you how you are, you reply, "I am standing and I am not crying." That is a good one to be going on with.