Monday, 16 November 2015

Reflections on the 6th International Conference on Ageing and Spirituality



Reflections on the 6th International Conference on Ageing and Spirituality

I recently attended this conference which I found inspiring and affirming.  It was a wonderful opportunity to follow up the previous conference which FiOP organised with Methodist Homes and the Centre for Theology and Public Issues, Edinburgh University.  The conference, held over four days, was rich and varied and the participants were very friendly and committed to spiritual care and older people bringing a variety of perspectives from different countries.

Maureen O’Neill
November 2015

The following is a reflection from Professor Susan McFadden who we were privileged to have as our Malcolm Goldsmith Lecturer in 2013.  I hope you get a flavour of our discussions and activities.

Susan McFadden


Most of us have attended many conferences, but as the years pass, I think we will recall the gathering in Los Angeles in October of 2015 as formative and transformative.  Personally, I feel deeply grateful for time spent with dear long-time friends and people I met for the first time here, all of whom I hope to remain connected to through the coming years.  A small conference like this affords such a rare opportunity for meaningful learning and the renewal and formation of relationships that can profoundly affect our lives.

As Keith Albans said in our first plenary session, talking about spirituality brings something enlarging and enriching to our consideration of aging.  A theme resounding throughout the conference first appeared in Keith's address:  consideration of spirituality and aging points us to powers and strengths that can flourish in the context of biological aging which, as many speakers noted, is primarily a portrait of loss and decline toward death. 

However, despite the narcissistic insults and painful burdens of biological aging, so many older adults' lives are animated by creative engagement with the world that enables them not just to cope, but to flourish and find meaning and purpose that motivates them to keep going in the face of multiple challenges.  We saw that quite clearly in Liz MacKinlay's talk about the work of Viktor Frankl and his influence on the leadership Mel Kimble provided to the effort to move religiousness and spirituality onto the agenda of gerontology. 
It has been only in the last few years that gerontology has begun to pay attention to the resilience of older adults and to observe that for many people it is undergirded by spiritual practices and religious beliefs.  Unfortunately, however, as we saw in several of the presentations, faith communities often fail to see this.  As Keith Albans said, faith communities may not notice the "unspectacular discipleship" of older people that is a clear reflection of their resilience.

Nevertheless, when we look closely, and listen carefully, we begin to appreciate the narratives-the stories-expressing late life resilience.  Jane Thibault's tales of pilgrimage, and the way she constructed the dynamics of the transformations that accompany pilgrimage, clearly demonstrated this to us. 

When we reflect on this conference and its meanings to us-personal meanings, and relational meanings-I hope that we will frame it in terms of the way the conference was titled:  Paradox and Promise in the Pilgrimage of Aging.  I don't think the organizing committee intentionally set out to be so alliterative, but these are three powerful words:  paradox, promise, and pilgrimage.  As Jane said, seeing aging as a pilgrimage invites us to embrace all the experiences of the journey:  the ones full of hopeful promise as well as the ones that force us to engage with the paradoxes of gain and loss, frailty and strength, love of life and readiness for death.  As Liz MacKinlay reminded us with a quote from Frankl, it is the "defiant power of the human spirit" that enables us to set out on this pilgrimage, endure its hardships, and embrace the hope and promise of its outcome.

Rebecca Giselbrecht's translation and presentation of Ralph Kunz's paper gave us more images of paradox and promise, arguing that both become clearer as we age.  Put most starkly, this paper stated that aging forces us to place the promise of maturity in the shadow of mortality.  How can we flourish in the face of all this, especially given our tremendous anxiety about dementia?  Our Swiss friends suggested that we need to be suspicious of any promises about aging that ignore paradox, and that we need a spiritual context for grasping that at the core of our finite, fragile existence, something whole shines through. 

There is light shining through the darkness.

Dayle Friedman gave us many images of light and darkness when she spoke of how old age invariably presents us with shattering experiences:  experiences of loss, change, disillusionment, and frailty.  But, out of the shattering there can be redemptive repair and rebirth.  I don't know if any of you noted that both Dayle and Jane employed the metaphor of shattering.  Jane told her own personal story of shattering, but paradoxically, pointed toward wholeness obtained through the meaning derived from, as she said, dignifying the shock, sinking so as to rise.  Here again is the paradox:  promise arises from peril.

Mary Catherine Bateson reinforced the power of metaphor in our efforts to live and grow together.  Her master metaphor-about composing a life-fits well with our theme, for after the shattering, after the peril, we receive the gift of composing our lives which, as Mary Catherine said, is a deeply spiritual process, infused with wonder and light.

Pulling all of this together, we can see a number of themes woven into our plenary sessions, workshops, and the conversations we had with one another.  We best apprehend the complexities of aging through story and the use of metaphors that help us grasp the promises and paradoxes of the pilgrimage.  Some of the most powerful metaphors surging through our time together have been expressions of shattering and light emerging from darkness.

Now I want evoke a concrete image I hope you take from this conference:  music!  I've been to many conferences, but never have I participated in one in which two musicians were appointed as bards to lead us in singing.  Music has been a key component of our time together.  In addition to the musical gifts bestowed by Bob Atchley and Judith-Kate Friedman, remember how Keith sang a song at the very beginning of our time together when the technology was balky?  Do you remember how Judith-Kate led us in the Wendell Berry song that begins, "And when I rise"?  When was the last time you sang so much at a conference?

Finally, I'd like to quote from a song we didn't sing, but I think it expresses our themes of shattering and light.  It comes from Leonard Cohen's "Anthem."

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

I want to express thanks and gratitude for all the hours and effort and creativity Conference Host and Director Nancy Gordon dedicated to organizing this amazing experience we've all shared.  Thank you, Nancy!

Monday, 2 November 2015

Music to their ears



Music to their ears

There is a substantial body of research that provides evidence of the crucial role that music plays in support of people with dementia, writes Diana Kerr.

We all respond to music. Mothers sing to their newborn babies to calm and make them feel secure; adults turn to music to express emotions, reflect feelings, to make them happy and to make them sad. Music is a core element in all our lives.

This is no less the case for people with dementia. As other experiences become confusing and communication becomes difficult, the role and experience of music gains importance. Music stays with us long after speech and other skills have gone. Anyone who has worked with people with dementia will have witnessed people who have lost the ability to speak coherently, or find words at all, sing an entire song perfectly. It is not only the words but the musical memory that stays, so people will hum or whistle a tune even when the words to the song have gone.

One of the important aspects of supporting people with dementia is to minimise the impact of their losses and to play to their strengths. If people can sing then we should be encouraging this, so as to maintain the skill and the sense of achievement and joy that goes with it.

There is a substantial body of research that provides evidence of the crucial role that music plays in support of people with dementia.

We know that music is effective in reducing a range of challenging behaviour. Playing calming music will reduce agitation (although, music should not be played for more than 20 minutes at a time as research shows it can become a source of irritation and carers need to monitor this); music can reduce aggressive behaviour, ‘wandering’, repetitive vocalisation and irritability.

We know that if caregivers sing to people with dementia when carrying out intimate tasks the incidence of challenging behaviour can be significantly reduced. This may be the result of a number of factors. For the caregiver the mere act of singing reduces stress in them and this will be transmitted to the person with dementia. Also, the sound of the person singing may be calming because it is reminiscent of the mother singing to the child.

If we play the right music at mealtimes people will be more relaxed, will sit longer at the table and will eat more. Given that people with dementia have problems with eating, this appears to be an opportunity not to be missed. Remember to use music that is important to the person with dementia. Different people respond to different music. There is evidence that we remember best the music we heard between the ages of 16 and 24.

Using music appropriately can lead to an improvement in reality orientation scores, memory recall and social behaviour. The use of music will often trigger communication. It may trigger speech but it can also allow the person with dementia to sing something that reflects their mood or articulate something they want to say but can only sing. The lady who sang to me ‘Show me the way to go home’ is an excellent example of that.

Even at the end stage of the condition, when people are close to death, music will reach them. It is important not to assume that the person lying inert and apparently not responding is oblivious to the sound of music. Play or sing to people at end stage and you will see changes in their facial expression, even vocal activity and physical movement. Music can provide one last way to reach the person and enable them to respond at an emotional level.

Diana Kerr
August 2015
Resources
Singing Groups for People with Dementia.  A guide to setting up and running groups in community and residential settings.  (2015).  By Diana Kerr.  Published by The Choir Press.  £10.00