Any Shiny Thing - Life after 50
Midlife Fiction
I had a post ready to go, about reaching for your dreams in the new year, but somehow it seems disrespectful in view of Nelson Mandela’s passing. Instead I will cherish the feeling I’m left with, of being motivated to reach higher, to do better, and to be a better person. My condolences to all who loved him. Mid-Friday update: I just became aware of a beautiful, thoughtful post about Mr. Mandela. I recommend you check it out here.
Twenty-five people are coming to my house today. We’re serving turkey and ham. My guests’ ages range from 19 months (hide the breakables! no candles!) to eighty-eight. Everything’s set up. I invited my mother and two sisters to come by this morning for a champagne-and-strategy session, because they’ll be helping me keep this thing on the rails later today. I’m grateful I can do it, and for the health and goodwill of my family. And for you, dear reader. Thanks for sharing your thoughts, wisdom, guidance, humor, tips, tricks and anything else you’ve volunteered through the years, not the least of which is, simply, your presence. We’ll get together again next Friday. I can’t wait.
What if there is no meaningful difference between people of different age groups? We tend to stereotype based on age, [Read more…]
Do you sometimes feel that your time is past? It happened as I read Scott Adams’ new book, How to Fail at Almost Everything and Still Win Big. It’s funny and informative, but some of his advice is geared toward younger people; for example, how to persuade more effectively, overcoming shyness, and the importance of good grammar. (Before you question the value of the entire book, he also talks about the impact of social biases; tracking your personal energy level as the most important metric in your pursuit of a successful life; and his belief that the mind is a “moist computer you can program.”)
But back to my original problem. We, the People of the Second Half, have harder questions that I rarely see addressed, certainly not in popular best-sellers. Here are a few:
Luckily, I have answers for you, because I found a teacher.
Dorys, writer and wise woman
Last Friday, at a writing retreat, I sat with a wise friend, Dorys, and asked about her life at eighty-five. She admitted that sometimes it strikes her hard that “I’m fifteen years away from being one hundred!” And yet, her eyes danced with humor and kindness as she answered the pathetic questions of this 59-year-old.
One was about being alone long-term. In response, she told me about a day she spent recently in which the phone did not ring, no one knocked on her door, and she had no reason to get in her car and drive anywhere. Instead of feeling lonely, Dorys reveled in the solitude. How lucky I am, she thought, to have one entire day all to myself, where I don’t have to go anywhere or do anything, no obligations, a whole landscape to explore without interruption, free to do whatever I want. With just her kitty for company, she had a day of golden solitude.
A therapist once told me that to live happily alone, we must first become ALL ONE. Whole. Dorys says that is a major prescription for life. Here are the highlights of her advice to me:
I appreciate Dorys. She’s an inspiration and a source of comfort. Life is complicated, but if you find a good teacher you might feel happier and more at peace with the unknowable. Manage what you can and develop the confidence to leave the rest alone.
Do you have any suggestions for living well in the second half?
Last week I wrote about collecting dead/dying vegetation to bring home and spray paint as decorations for my house. I said I’d get back to you if the arrangement worked out okay, and guess what – success! You’ll see the finished “bouquet” at the end of this post, but first, the process. After hanging the plants in a closet for a week to dry, I prepared a place where the paint would do the least damage:
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My paint supplies:
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The drying room:
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After a few hours of drying, I assembled this fragile foursome like so:
I’m really happy with the results, except that my new “tanned” feet look like I spent the day at the beach. I didn’t realize how far the overspray might drift, or that I shouldn’t wear flip-flops for this job. I also dusted the cement with a rosy glow, accentuated by the sharp gray rectangles that appeared after I removed the newspaper. Bill said at least I didn’t get the car.
It was worth it, but too much mess. In the future, I’ll stick to hanging roses and statice upside down in the coat closet to dry:
This was fun! A nice diversion from work. See you next Friday.
My sister asked, “If you had all the time in the world, and weren’t always working, what would you do for fun?”
I had to think. To me, work is fun. Always has been, even as a youngster. These days, writing, blogging, public speaking and hanging out on social media are my work and my hobbies. But those aren’t things I can do with a buddy on a Saturday.
Suddenly, I felt like Poindexter, always in the lab, hunched over another invention, cackling to myself.
Rallying, I told her I liked to go on field trips to gather dried plants, which I could then spray with metallic paint and use as decorations around my house. Calculating silently, I realized, but did not admit to her, that I hadn’t done that for at least fifteen years.
My Sis, hamming it up in the San Jacinto mountains
Two days later, Sis and I borrowed my husband’s truck and drove up to our local mountains. We spent the day taking pictures of the fall landscape, and gathering dried, dead or otherwise promising plants for my project. When we tired of hiking, clipping and snapping, we retreated to the Idyll Awhile Wine Shop and Bistro for a glass of wine and a fruit and cheese plate. We had a blast.
I hung the clippings in the garage to finish drying. In a few weeks you’ll see how they turned out, if they do. I also took the tree picture you see at the top of this page. A nice souvenir of my day.
I had fun. Hanging out with my sister and climbing around in the hills made me feel like a more complete person, even though, truth be told, I yearned to get back to my “work.” Yes, that’s the Poindexter mindset.
Still, her question set in motion an experience that reminded me:
What hobby or leisure activity have you been putting off?
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