What does it mean to be an “elder”?

Some years ago, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realized I had crossed a line. Fading was the taut skin and the ease of taking my appearance for granted. I didn’t see myself as “old,” exactly, but I knew that’s where I was headed. I remember thinking: I want to appreciate myself in this process—not lose myself in it.

Over time, my curiosity about aging and coping with it widened to include not only aging well, but also what it means to become an “elder.” Adopting an elder’s perspective allows for dignity and peace. An elder’s perspective helps us adapt to change—something that’s actually necessary throughout life and perhaps particularly as we age.

The elder role

Last fall, I led a Talking Circle on what it means to be an elder. It was a meaningful conversation, and I believe the ideas deserve more light. This article grows out of my preparation for that event, my continuing education around wellness in aging, and what I’ve reflected on since. As time goes on, I’m increasingly stepping into an “elder” role. Many of you are, too. So, what does it mean to be an elder?

In many traditional cultures, elders are not simply “older.” They’re valued for the life they’ve lived, the deep perspectives they’ve gained, and the stability that often comes from seeing how things unfold over time. In indigenous communities, elders are seen as the keepers of wisdom. Older people in any culture have learned that being an elder doesn’t always mean speaking up. In fact, one of the defining qualities of an elder is restraint.

An elder understands that not every situation calls for advice. People often need to come to their own conclusions. Elders, by virtue of experience, recognize that timing matters—and that listening can be more valuable than speaking.

Elders aren’t afraid to speak out, but they do so with care. They step forward when appropriate. There’s no attachment to proving a point, that they know best, or that someone else wrong.

Symbols of eldership

For the Talking Circle, I brought along a rough-cut piece of cypress wood that I’ve used in circles as a “talking stick.” In an in-person talking circle, the stick would pass from person to person to signify the individual having the floor. In a virtual setting, the passing of a talking stick doesn’t work the same way. Still, mine felt right for the symbolic reasons I originally chose it some years earlier as part of a study program.

Cypress is associated with strength and endurance. Its roots grow deep, yet the tree stands straight and stretches high. Cypress has long been known to represent the journey of the soul.
Rather than polish or decorate my talking stick as some do, I kept the piece in a natural state. Its bark intact, its edges rough and uneven. That choice reflects something more I’ve come to believe about life and eldership: we don’t have to smooth out every imperfection to have value.
The theme of imperfection led to a discussion about aging—and how it’s viewed today. Older people are sometimes (perhaps even often) minimized or framed in terms of decline.

We hear this ageism in ways that are so common they may be missed:

• “She’s set in her ways.”
• “He’s out of touch.”
• “She’s still doing this…” or “ … still able to do that…”

There’s an implied diminishment in that word still—as though capability and relevance are fading. The reality is that age does not automatically mean decline. In fact, many of the qualities that come with time are strengths that could only have come from experience.
Becoming an elder isn’t just something that happens to us—it’s something we can grow into.

As I shared in the Talking Circle, here are some ways I’ve come to understand the strengths we develop as we grow toward eldership:

Depth may replace speed.
We may not move as quickly, but we often understand connections, patterns, and what truly matters more quickly than in the past—and with greater depth.

Emotional weathering.
We’ve lived through difficult seasons. We know that not every storm is permanent.

Clearer priorities.
We become more discerning about where we invest our time and energy.

Perspective.
We’ve seen how things cycle, repeat, and resolve. That longer view can bring both calm, comfort, and clarity.

Resourcefulness.
Life requires adaptation, and over time, we become better at it.

Empathy with discernment.
We can care deeply, while also recognizing when we need to protect ourselves.

Inner authority.
We rely less on outside validation and more on what we know to be true.

A richer inner life.
We cultivate thoughts, reflections, and meaning that sustain us.

Presence.
We learn to notice and appreciate the beauty in small moments—good conversation, stillness, connection.

Living as an elder

One of the most important ideas about being an elder has to do with care and respect for others—and for ourselves. We can, as a friend says, “stay in our own lane,” while allowing others to travel theirs. And as outward beauty shifts to something perhaps less discernible to the naked eye, an elder recognizes that value doesn’t disappear just because others don’t see it.

Consider:

• patience
• reflection
• restraint
• perspective
• and the ability to hold complexity without rushing to fix or define it

In a culture that elevates speed, novelty, and constant output, qualities such as these may be needed more than ever. Not just for others—but for ourselves.

Learning to stay on an even keel, not getting pulled into every conflict or emotional storm, and trusting that not everything needs our response—or our control—supports our own well-being. They protect our energy and help us move through life with less struggle and more ease.

Modern culture may not always recognize elders, but the role still holds value. We can grow into the role, adapting to change—for our own benefit as well as for others.

Recognizing the elder in Yourself

Take a moment to reflect:

• What have you learned about the art of living?
• What have you learned to minimize or let go because you’ve seen the cost of hanging on?
• What do you no longer react to the way you once did?
• Where have you learned to pause, to step back, to let something unfold without needing to control it?
• What matters more to you now than in earlier stages of your life? And what matters less?

Give yourself time to consider and write out your thoughts about these questions. They’re the products of experience, adaptation, and wisdom you’ve earned in life.

Allow time to recognize how you’ve grown, adapted, and continue to. You may not see the taut reflection of youth staring back at you in the mirror, but you’re more than just older. You’re wiser.

Take time to recognize and appreciate yourself—and the other elders around you—for the beauty that’s been earned.

If you’d like to join a future Talking Circle or the other events designed to help parents of estranged adult children to live fully despite the heartache, consider joining the Done With The Crying membership.

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