10 Commandments for Long Life

Little food, lots of chewing, and other tips from a Zen priest that I'm trying to follow...with mixed results.

A couple of weeks ago, I spent a weekend at my friend Chuck’s house in southwestern Maine, along with three other writer pals. We wrote, we read our work aloud, we went cross-country skiing, and we ate. And ate. And ate. (Chuck is an amazing cook / baker!)

Chuck’s got one of those houses that is filled with bits of one-of-a-kind art and decor to feast your eyes and spirit on: a shelf of extremely detailed, hand-made ceramic mushrooms, a beautiful hanging quilt, a collection of vintage Ken dolls, a miniature gargoyle sitting on the edge of a cabinet which I, like an asshole, accidentally brushed against and broke (sorry, Chuck!!), etc.

One item I was particularly taken with was this framed document from Daisen-in Zen temple in Kyoto, Japan, written (or at least autographed by) by Soen Ozeki, the temple’s head priest. I kept meanting to take a picture of it but didn’t; fortunately my fellow retreater Cat, who was also a fan, did!

Here’s just the English translation part, up close:

As I approach the big 5-0, I find myself thinking quite a lot about aging and mortality, and how I’d really like to stick around on this plane for as long as possible. So I kind of loved the part about life being likened to the bud of a flower between 50-60, and from 70-80 being in full bloom. (It’s not clear what happens between 60-70, but I imagine it’s pickleball.)

Granted, this whole section of the credo may just be pandering to middle-aged and retiree tourists. There may well be a version of this souvenir for younger people, where age 20-30 is the bud of the flower, 30-40 is life in full bloom, and 40-50 is come back to Japan for the next installment in the series.

Nevertheless.

Photo by Laurensvanaarle, used with permisson.

I’m doing fairly well when it comes to the various pieces of advice in the list, but there is definitely room for improvement.

1. Little meat, lots of vegetables. I eat very little red meat, but I do, admittedly, eat quite a lot of chicken. And salmon. Also, do eggs count? But I’m also making a concerted effort to up my vegetable intake. So, check.

2. Little salt, lots of vinegar. Hm. Not doing so great on this. I love me some salt. Maybe I should get a little shaker of vinegar to put on the table, and see how that tastes instead? Ew, no. I’m just going to eat more pickled things.

3. Little sugar, lots of fruit. I don’t eat a ton of sugar, but frankly, it’s an essential part of American culture, so it would be unpatriotic of me not to eat at least a couple of desserts per week. USA! USA! USA! I am, however, happy to up my fruit intake.

4. Little food, lots of chewing. I do find myself having less of an appetite as I’ve gotten older, and I eat a bit less as a result—not that this has in any way resulted in my losing or even maintaining the same weight, mind you. Aging is fun! But….chewing. OK….Sure. I can chew more.

5. Little trouble, lots of sleep. Well, listen, Mr. Zen priest, we can’t all control the amount of trouble or sleep in our lives. But I feel very blessed to be doing OK on both fronts, and I’m 100% on board with getting even more sleep if it means living longer, thereby giving me more time to do the things I won’t be able to get done what with all the sleeping.

6. Little anger, lots of laughter. Doing pretty well here. My anger tends to be the large-scale kind—anger at bigotry, greed, war, ignorance, Trump and his enablers, and people who write “everyday” in instances when it’s supposed to be “every day.” I don’t generally feel angry in everyday life. (CORRECT usage.) And I laugh a hell of a lot. The key here is being friends with the right people. And following the right content creators on Instagram—as I’m sure the monks at the Daisen-in Zen temple do.

7. Little talk, lots of doing. Um. I talk a lot. I’ll work on shutting up more, and just smiling enigmatically instead. Perhaps while wielding my fan. But I have got the doing part down. And if this little bit of advice means “stop just talking about things and do them instead,” well—that is me also. Except when it comes to getting a neck lift, which I talk about wanting to do constantly—to my husband’s extreme annoyance—but have not actually done, and probably won’t.

8. Little need, lots of giving. I’m guessing that “need” here means one’s needs beyond the basics. As in, don’t be materialistic or high-maintenance or get a neck lift. I’m doing OK here, but could probably stand to improve in certain areas of life. (Yes, I want one of those nifty digital paper tablets, but do I need one?) As for lots of giving: I’m pretty generous with my friends and loved ones, but I want to do more beyond that, especially once the kids have flown the coop and I’ve got a little more flexibility. In the meantime, I will gladly give you free grammar tips if you want. Haha. Just kidding. Except not.

9. Little clothing, lots of bathing. Er….I’m not sure if this means wearing little clothing, or owning little clothing. I do own far more clothes than I need, and I can definitely work on that. But if this is about wearing less clothing, well, no. Sorry. I live in New England, I am stingy about the thermostat, and I get cold easily. If my layering shaves a couple years off my life, so be it. As for lots of bathing: I bathe enough—nobody has ever complained—and I feel like any more would be a waste of water, energy, and time that could be spent laughing or chewing. But you do you, monks. I’ll ding another year off my life for this one.

10. Little car riding, lots of walking. I’m totally kicking ass here. I work from home, live in a very walkable town, and take a walk or run nearly every day. Tons of research confirms that walking is the elixir of life, and I plan to do it for as long and as often I possibly can. My paternal grandmother took walks nearly every day, and lived to be 89 before succumbing to cancer. Of course, my maternal grandmother was born with a heart condition, smoked until she was in her 60s, never exercised a day in her life beyond housework and lived to be 87. But no matter. I shall walk.

So, how about you? Are you killing it in the vinegar department? Sleeping and bathing frequently? Laughing and doing and walking whilst chewing? I hope so.

Meanwhile: I’m no Zen monk, but there are a few commandments I think I would add to this list. However, this post is long enough already, so I’ll leave those for another time. Now, I’m going to go eat a piece of fruit and take a run. And if I see the reaper, you can bet I’ll tell him to fuck way the fuck off.

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