The Hills We Die On. Or Not
On a recent road trip, I listened to the audio version of Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear, a book I read and loved ten years ago. It’s a good one to revisit. Gilbert writes of her childhood crippling fears about pretty much everything. In response to her mother’s unshakeable faith in her strength and abilities, Elizabeth would do almost anything to prove she was, in fact, enfeebled. She refused to thrive. For years.
One day, in adolescence, she woke up to the idea that defending her weakness was a really weird battle to be fighting. “Was this seriously the hill I wanted to die on?”
“Argue for your limitations and you get to keep them.”
The passage got my attention.
My mother stepped off many hills throughout her life. Too many to name. Hills she could have allowed to limit her. It’s not fair of me to choose the one she did struggle with—and who wouldn’t—vision loss. She told me she couldn’t see—with her eyes—what I was describing in detail, encouraging her to pivot to seeing it in her mind, her heart, her memory. She led conversations with, “I can’t see.” “Why do you tell everyone you can’t see?” I asked. “Because people might think I see more than I can.” “What if they do?” I countered, to no response.
Thank goodness I don’t argue for my limitations. (Insert raucous laughter.) Okay, here are a few.
- I can’t draw/play my ukulele. (Either take lessons and practice, practice, practice, or let it go.)
- I’m lousy at making friends and nurturing relationships. (How can you be a better friend? Now go and do it.)
- I can’t take care of this property. (Hire someone. Move. Let go of what you can’t do. Stop bitching. Above all, appreciate what you have while you have it.) [Aside: God love her, how many times did my mother say, “I just need to move.” Note to children: Say to me, “Let’s make that happen.” Accept no shit from my passive aggressiveness.]
- I’m not good at anything. (Anything? Really? Make a list of what you are good at—not perfect, but good enough. Or do it for love, even if you aren’t good at it.)
- I was a terrible caregiver to my mother. (You had shortcomings for sure, but did you ever stop trying? Forgive yourself.)
I enjoy good health at 73. I’m in no position to judge people who struggle. And I’m not judging. But I wonder, when the time comes—which it most certainly will—that my body weakens, how will I deal with it? Will simply deciding in advance that I’ll choose a positive response over a negative one, be enough? Where can I practice now?
I’ve been a hiker for the past decade plus. I’ve gotten good at it. Not female-elder-hiker-record-worthy good, just committed-day-hiker-on-modest-trails good. I got stronger and smarter over the years, as I gained the expertise that only comes from sticking with something. In the past couple years, though, I’ve begun to experience the decline that comes with elderhood. I’m listening to what my body is asking of me, and weighing my choices. 1. Quit hiking, or moderate my trail choices? 2. Stop hiking when I can’t do it solo, or join a hiking group? 3. Join a group now? 4. Grumble about aches and pains, or accept them—queue up ibuprofen and a heating pad.
There are endless decisions to be made in the third act of life—at whatever age that comes. We can say “I can’t” and give up, or “I can” and keep going with altered abilities and expectations. And if vision loss is my hill, I hope I will be brave and lead, not with “I can’t,” but with “I can see it if you describe it to me.”
Meanwhile, I do more yoga and get a monthly massage. I hope to be a hiking grandma for a few more years.
P.S. I saw the hiking grandma graphic on a t-shirt on a trail a few years ago. I never got the shirt, but I’ve had the graphic on my laptop for a long time, waiting to use it!
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Your turn! Are there, or have there been, limitations or fears you’ve clung to rather than find your way past them? Care to share? If you’ve overcome a tough one, how did you do it? Leave a comment below.
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Every single day you live, you make a difference in the world.
And you get to choose the difference that you make.
Jane Goodall (1934-2025)
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Thanks for your post – a reminder that we can all get fixated on our perceived foibles. I’ve been fixated on possible sneaky signs of impending cognitive impairment – word finding – nouns in particular. I can positively freak myself out, even though I’m apparently sharp in ever other domain. Laying that looming concern aside and savoring the good stuff is a worthy aspiration.
Good to hear from you here, Bev! Ah, the word finding. Or not finding. I read once that putting your keys in the refrigerator is normal cognitive decline. Forgetting what they are for is dementia. (Admittedly normal decline is freakish too.) I don’t know if it applies to forgetting words, but I’m going with it for now. Not finding the word “tree” vs. substituting “spoon.” What do you think? I hear you though. It’s easier to deal with/accept body changes than brain ones. (Especially if you don’t yet have body changes. 😬) Carry on.
This part really spoke to me because I feel that I am a jack of many trades, but master of none. I’ve felt that way my whole life, and it’s the source of endless anxiety. I appreciate this way of reframing it for myself. Thank you so much!
Or do it for love, even if you aren’t good at it
Oh me too! All my life, a serial dabbler. I was told a way to reframe that some time ago, but I can’t remember what it was. 😂 I feel like hiking is the first true passion I’ve ever had. Maybe we are just more free than people who have just one story! If you haven’t read Big Magic, I encourage you to. And if you like audio books, Gilbert is the best author narrator I have ever heard. Thank you for writing. Gretchen
Big Magic is a book I’ve read and listened to the way others may revisit a spiritual text. It’s as close to a bible as anything I have. To me it feels like an invitation to be unapologetically authentic: feel the fear and do it anyway. I wish EG could narrate everything I read. I love how tender she is with language and how gentle she is with truth.
To me, aging is all about choices. I try to encourage myself to be nimble in my process, but like everyone, I do have my tricky spots. I get what you’re saying: Focusing too keenly on what we “can’t do” is a trap. I dread comparison, because it’s the one thing that trips me up more than any other. When I let go of my need to see how I compare to others, I’m free. That’s the goal. (Thank god we aren’t all the same!)
As for changing circumstances and abilities? Suleika Jaouad shared this in her morning note:
“You can’t strong-arm life into staying as you’ve imagined it. When you hem in your imagination, you hem in your life. Still, the dreaming’s the point. It’s how we become. Before we build, we imagine; before we act, we picture what could be.”
And onward we go ♡
Thank you for encouraging me to revisit Big Magic, and to listen to it!
All of life is about choices, but it takes a heck of a long time to realize we’ve had that control all along. I love being this age!
Thank you for the Jaouad quote. I also love the recognition that one can’t live all the possible lives, and that we just need to go live the one we have/chose/got. Which doesn’t rule out the art of the pivot! The serenity prayer, perhaps.
Thank you for this! Always good to be reminded of all those “I can’ts/I don’ts.” My motto when my kids were young was to “look at what they ARE doing, not at what they’re NOT doing” and that helped shift my nervous mom perspective about them. They were doing so much! It wasn’t until I was a grandparent that it dawned on me, I could use it on myself.
Making music is my biggest challenge, and also one of my great achievements. I wrestle with that see-saw all the time. But I do it for love.
You have so many skills and talents and abilities and gifts that I so admire! Thanks for saying all this!
Note to self, re-read Big Magic
Now that you bring it up, I wonder if the “I can’ts” are most prolific in the first and third acts. In between, we just do it or move on. No time to dwell. I don’t know, just a wondering.