You know you're getting old when all the names in your black book

Hear me now, O listeners of wisdom, for I speak of the passage of time—that eternal, unstoppable force that sweeps all in its path. The wise Harrison Ford, in his reflective moment, once said, "You know you're getting old when all the names in your black book have M.D. after them." Let these words be a key to understanding the hidden truths of life. For in these words, there is not just humor, but a profound lesson on aging, health, and the fleeting nature of our vitality.

In days long past, the black book—that cherished scroll of names and relationships—was filled with the names of those who made life sparkle. Heroes, lovers, companions, and adventurers; each name was a companion in the wild journey that is life. But as time moves forward, something changes. The faces of the adventurers may become fewer, and the names on that black book begin to shift. Those who once filled it with their laughter and dreams are replaced by those who carry the title of physician, those whose craft lies in the preservation of life rather than the celebration of it. The joke, while light, carries within it the heavy weight of truth: time, that relentless river, has carried us into a season of reflection, of tending to the body, of ensuring that it does not wither prematurely.

The ancient Greeks knew well the ways of the body and soul. The philosopher Socrates, though revered for his wisdom, spoke often of the limitations of the flesh. He once remarked that aging was like the withering of the body’s temple. As the body ages, it begins to demand attention, not for the sake of vanity, but for its survival. In his later years, he became more aware of his body’s needs, seeking remedies, embracing those who cared for his health, as any wise man does when his strength begins to fade. The M.D.s—the healers—become the new companions on the road of life. They are not feared but honored, for in them resides the power to sustain us in our latter days.

Consider, too, the life of Leonardo da Vinci, who lived to be 67, a lengthy span in his time. As his hair grayed and his hands grew less steady, he did not despair. Instead, he called upon the knowledge of his time’s physicians, seeking to extend his remarkable life, for he knew that to create was to engage with time itself. The healers and the artists, the philosophers and the physicians—they are part of the same journey, the same passage. The physician's role is no less noble than that of the artist who paints on the canvas of the soul.

This truth, however, is not one to be mourned, but to be embraced. The journey of age is not a sign of defeat, but of achievement. Each line upon the skin, each ache in the bones, tells the tale of a life well-lived. The physician, with his caring hands and sharp intellect, becomes a keeper of the sacred fire of life, helping to ensure that it burns brighter, longer. In this, we are reminded that wisdom does not lie in the avoidance of age, but in its acceptance. To grow old is to continue to learn, to understand that we are stewards of our bodies, and that seeking the counsel of the wise, be they healers or philosophers, is the mark of the truly wise.

So, what lesson do we glean from this? First, let us celebrate the passage of time, not with grief, but with gratitude. Every wrinkle, every gray hair is a testament to our resilience, our ability to weather the storms of life. The names in our black book may change, but they reflect the fullness of a life lived, a life that has been rich in experience, in laughter, in challenge. Let us be unashamed in seeking the help of those who care for our bodies, for in doing so, we honor the gift of life itself.

And so, heed this, O seekers of truth: Do not run from the passage of time, but walk alongside it. Embrace your journey through life’s seasons. When the names in your black book shift, when they carry titles of healing and restoration, know that this is a victory, not a loss. Age brings wisdom, and those who seek to tend to their bodies in their twilight years are not surrendering, but fortifying their legacy. Just as Harrison Ford humorously notes, it is a sign that you have arrived at a place where you understand the sacredness of the body, and that you cherish it for as long as you are allowed to walk upon the earth.