Any Shiny Thing - Life after 50
Midlife Fiction
I happen to think my appearance should only matter if I personally care about it, and not because society says I should look as hot as possible until I die, because otherwise you are worthless. [Read more…]
When you go to bed at night and feel satisfied that you managed to knock off most of the things on your To Do list, do you ever think about the sum of that list?
Is it really an accomplishment? You can get going really, really fast but, at the end of the day (I hate that cliche’ but in this case I mean it literally) did it get you any closer to your goal? Do you even have a goal? Is it to get through the day, errands accomplished? Accounts settled, calls made, kitchen restocked with bread, milk, cereal – is that your life?
When you are on your deathbed, will that have been enough?
I was reading about Jonathan Franzen in Time magazine recently, and he says with life becoming busier all the time, more than ever we need to slow down and read a good book. “The place of stillness that you have to go to write, but also to read seriously, is the point where you can actually make responsible decisions, where you can actually engage productively with an otherwise scary and unmanageable world.”
The same article quotes Soren Kierkegaard and “his idea of busyness: that state of constant distraction that allows people to avoid difficult realities and maintain self-deceptions.” Is this at the heart of our To Do list? Besides making sure there’s always milk and bread, are we just staying busy so we don’t have to ask ourselves, “Did I get what I wanted? Is there still time?”
I think that movement without a goal might add up to wasted effort, time, and life. If I know where I’m going, I can evaluate whether the things I’m doing are getting me there. And if you have the kind of brain I do (fluttery and imprecise), you have to slow down from time to time and meditate. It’s hard, but it’s like exercise – I definitely see a result. My mind clarifies, and I can identify what my priorities are and whether my current activities are moving me toward completing those priorities.
And whether those priorities make sense, in view of the big picture of my mortality.
Here’s how I meditate: I force myself to STOP. I walk to the spare bedroom. Set the timer for 10-15 minutes and bury it under a pillow so it doesn’t startle me. Sit in the comfy chair, close my eyes, and let thoughts rush in and out of my head like a strong breeze – let the thoughts come. Let them go. Don’t stop them. Don’t make mental lists. Don’t conduct analyses. Don’t think.
Listen to the sounds of the house – the dishwasher clunking away, a lawnmower nearby, the gentle whisper of the ceiling fan. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth, while saying one word: rest.
Rest.
Rest.
Why is our response to aging and the old so intensely negative?
According to Lynn Casteel Harper, a chaplain to a retirement community, here is the answer:
“Older people expose what is true for people of all ages. We are vulnerable and finite…Elders point to our shared fate as living creatures — to slow up, to wind down, to die. It comes as little surprise that a society so phobic about the subject of death (people “pass,” no one seems to “die”) so readily dismiss those people we see as closest to death — old people. However, we know that not just older people die. We are all vulnerable, at any moment…Coming to terms with finitude is the ongoing struggle of the human spirit; it is soul work. To attempt to live meaningfully with the awareness of our mortality is work marked by courage…” (You can read her entire essay here.)
Dr. Kathryn Zerbe, eating disorders specialist, says much the same thing. “In our mothers’ generation, there was acceptance that your body wasn’t going to look the same at 50 as it did at 25. Today there’s not.” She goes on to say that extreme efforts to maintain youth “…is a way of trying to skirt the issue of aging and mortality.”
According to Rev. Harper and Dr. Zerbe, then, much of what we do to “look young” is based on fear of dying. So here’s my question: what if we weren’t afraid of dying? How much more richly would we live?
Our President has been called “No Drama Obama.” And he frequently says, “I never get too high or too low.” I’ve noticed that phrase slipping into the common vernacular; you especially see it when an athlete is interviewed about his or her performance.
After a couple decades of watching diva behavior (from both genders) elevated to an art form (see: Housewives, Jersey Shore, et al) I’m glad that we as a country seem to be settling down. Maybe it’s because that pig-in-the-python, the Boomer demographic, is causing the rest of the country to mature a little.
This is one of the coolest things about getting older. By the time you’re middle-aged, you’ve lived through a lot. You’ve suffered pain; been stunned by cruelty and shocked by abuse; and you’ve watched gape-mouthed in wonder at the narcissism and selfishness in the world, sometimes on a global scale (see: Zimbabwe; Mugabe). You’ve endured the sleepless nights, the run to the ER, the drama of family ultimata (yes, in my case it’s plural, unfortunately.)
And now, when that stuff comes up? Yawn. How different from when we were younger. The drama about killed us sometimes, didn’t it? But now I’d rather take a nap.
Kindle readers, send me your comments at Lmspreen@yahoo.com.
I’m addicted to advice columns and especially “Tell Me About It” by Carolyn Hax. Recently, a woman with a clueless husband got this advice from an online commenter:
I believe in making it easy for your spouse to make you happy. If I have spent a whole afternoon deep-cleaning the kitchen, rather than expect my husband to notice (and brood if he doesn’t), I tell him, “Admire the kitchen — I spent the whole afternoon cleaning.” Then he admires with fervor. If you care that he/she remembers your anniversary/birthday, remind him or her. It may be less romantic than surprises, but marriage is for the long haul, and playing mind games or expecting your spouse to read your mind gets in the way of happiness.
I like the above because it reminds me that Boomers have been through it, and if we have brains, we’re no longer as motivated by the drama. Don’t care for it, in fact. There was a time that it seemed much more exciting. Now, it’s just tiring. We have learned to say what we mean, and do it with a twinkle in our eyes. Life is too short for drama.
Recently, I wrote this: “…sometimes I think I am foolish for racing around with my hair on fire in pursuit of this passion, because I am 56…”
Do you wonder sometimes if you should stop trying so hard? Are we Boomers of an age where we should relax, nap, read, take more heed of the passing days ? Perspective is such a hard thing to grasp. My mom is 85 and says, “Oh, Lynne, you’re so young yet!” To see it from that angle makes me feel like lacing up my running shoes. But then on the other hand, how many years will I have to enjoy my sweet husband, to travel, golf, and just sit and read, maybe go to a movie with him? He’s 63. Per his family history, he’s got 20 years. That’s probably 15 of good health. Right now we’re in good shape, but who knows? And every minute I spend in my office pecking away at this keyboard is a minute I lose with him, forever.
I got a boost from Sly Stallone, who was interviewed in Time Magazine. The interviewer asks “Are there any more goals you wish to accomplish?” and Stallone replies, “There are always goals. If you don’t have a mountain, build one and then climb it. And after you climb it, build another one; otherwise you start to flatline in your life. People think retiring is fun. Well, maybe, but if you have a certain kind of fire inside, there is no end in sight.”
It doesn’t solve my dilemma but it does make me feel better about my ambition. Yo, Rocky, thanks!
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