Guest Post by Taru Fisher.
When Elizabeth asked me to do a guest post on her blog, I was both honored and a little intimidated. After all, I am not in the same season of life as most of Elizabeth’s tribe; at nearly 68, I could be considered an elder of her tribe. In our society, elders are often greeted with some derision rather than respect, unlike the Native American culture where elders are given a place of respect and honor. Having hung out on the fringes of the EPW tribe and read the many beautiful and conscious posts by one and all, I am taking courage in hand and revealing myself to you all. So, here I am in the last season of my life to share with you some of the ways I have lived my truth in every season of my life, and both the cost to me and the reward. Hang on — it’s a wild ride!
In he first season of my life, I knew early on that the only way I could actually live was to follow my heart; another way of saying “live my truth.” When I was five or six years old I made friends with a lovely black girl named Suzie. We were great friends; I hung out at her house after school, ate cookies, and we had lots of fun. So, when the other little girls confronted me with “Why are you playing with that n***** (ugly expletive)?, I was truly confused. Didn’t they see beyond her skin? Didn’t they see the light I saw shining out from her? Didn’t they realize she was just like the rest of us, only in a different container? My only response to them was that she was a really nice girl, lots of fun to play with, and her Mom made great cookies. Did I stop playing with her? No; and so they ceased to play with me. I remember feeling hurt, but I continued to play with her anyway. I knew they were wrong, and I was stubborn (I still am). The cost was a few lost playmates. The reward was the beginning of a determination to stand firm in my beliefs and values.
In my junior year in high school, I was hanging out with the sweet, popular cheerleaders — we were a really nice, friendly bunch of girls. Come senior year the not-so-nice group co-opted my sweet friends and tried to get me to go along with their new “gang” (they were called a gang even in those days). When I refused, they proceeded to ostracize me for my entire senior year. Again, I refused to go with the crowd and continued to be friends with the people they considered unpopular — the real people in whom I found value. It’s not like I wanted to be unpopular – no girl wants that — it’s just that I couldn’t stand injustice and hatred and cruelty. I would have no part of it. The cost was a senior year from hell. The reward was developing an even more finely honed sense of who I was and what I stood for; and knowing that I could face that kind of social torture and survive.
As I entered the second season of my life, I had gone through my first divorce (with two more to follow), re-married a beautiful man 9 years younger who I considered my soulmate, and discovered a spiritual teacher who spoke to my heart in a way no other person had ever done. I knew I had to dive deep into this spiritual path and, selling everything and leaving a good job, I set off to India. I was given a new name, Premtaru (Tree of Love in Hindi), I wore all orange clothes, and a locket (mala) with my guru’s picture in it. Once someone in a supermarket asked me if the picture in my locket was of my “dog”. I merely smiled and said, “no”. Most of my old friends thought I was crazy, but I knew this was going to be a life altering experience. I was right, and the ripples from that decision continue to this very day. I could write an entire book just about that experience, so suffice it to say the cost was the life I was living, eventually my marriage, and many of my friends. The reward was an inner knowing, a peace, a community of remarkable people with whom I am still friends more than 35 years later, and the beginning of a transformation that never ends.
In the third season of my life, I left a good job at Stanford University to start a business with my husband called Alive! Whole Life Fitness Studio. I was 61 years old, my husband 52, and people thought we were crazy. Strength training had literally saved my life and we wanted to bring this special form of slow motion, high intensity, low impact strength training to others who had begun to lose muscle mass and therefore functionality. I have Rheumatoid Arthritis and should be in a wheel chair by now – thanks to strength training and nutrition, I am strong enough to hike to the Stanford Dish! I became trained as an NLP Coach, Master and Health Practitioner to help women in transition create resourceful ways of thinking and change seeming obstacles into opportunities. The cost of doing this was loss of financial security, fairly constant uncertainty about the future, and my final burnout after 6 years of being in business. The reward has been the results our clients get and the feeling we are truly making a difference in people’s lives.
And in my last season, I have discovered I am no longer interested in building a big business, an all-consuming business where I have to devote almost my entire life to building it. And the biggest discovery was that I have been running away from my mortality. Yes, I said “mortality” as in death. All my efforts had been to age naturally and powerfully, to put a lot of effort into living longer, healthier, and better. Now that’s an admirable goal–it truly is. I was just using it to avoid seeing I was entering the last quarter of my current life, and acknowledging that my motivations and interests had changed. I am becoming an elderwoman, a sage, a wise woman; someone who values balancing “being” with “doing”. I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge my desire for slowing down, for seeing what is present in this moment, for taking time to contemplate and reflect, for sitting quietly and listening to the birds outside my bedroom window. I was afraid my younger, entrepreneurial friends would reject me and see me as merely an old lady who had given up on her dreams. But I had to speak it; I had to start living it.
Since acknowledging this new “knowing” I felt an almost constant joy bubbling in me, a deep sense of relaxation into what “is”, and a slowing down to deeply listen to my coaching clients and everyone else in a new way. I had heard the phrase, “don’t push the river, it flows” for years and thought I understood it. It was merely an intellectual understanding, but now I feel it in my bones, in my heart, and in my being. My river is flowing and I am flowing with it and in it to wherever it takes me. And I am deeply satisfied. Namaste, fellow floaters.
About Taru Fisher: I’m an irreverent, sometimes irascible, sometimes inspiring, 67 year old woman who has lived a life many say should be the subject of a book. I’m working on that. I’m also Co-Founder and CEO of Alive! Whole Life Fitness Studio in Redwood City, CA. You can see what I’m up to at www.taru.com.
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I'm Elizabeth Potts Weinstein, a writer, teacher, and coach.