My My friends and I are going through one of those difficult periods. We’re ageing.
We’ve aged before, but there’s been something quite cool about it. Childhood, teenage years and then into adulthood. Growing up, leaving home and going out into the big wide world, finding work, marrying, having children – or not – etc. etc. Whatever has happened good or not so great, there’s always been a future to it, if you know what I mean.
But this is a bit different. The horizon no longer stretches endlessly before us. Realistically, we know it never did but it’s such an evocative expression, indicating the marvellous sense of timelessness that an individual should feel at the earlier parts of their life at least.
I remember once saying to someone that I’d worry about it later. That clever individual, some 25 years younger than I, said: “The trouble is, later is coming sooner than you think.” I still prevaricated but now I still wonder how, if he could recognise it, I’d missed it.
Now, I’m being forced to notice the constricting movement of time. Parents have died, some friends too, sadly, and the conveyor belt of life seems to be moving us that much closer to the drop off point. In youth, that’s quite an entertaining analogy; as you get that much older, it’s a bit daunting and seems much less amusing.
So, time to reflect I feel. What can I do to give this stage of life the importance of any other time?
We are living longer nowadays so it makes sense to consider what living in what can be euphemistically called “the third age” really means. Say you’re lucky enough to reach 60 for example. It might be that your life is destined to stretch ahead for another 30 years or so. It might be the thought of that tempts you to put your head in your hands as you envisage what that might mean.
But hold on! If you’re 60 now, you’d have been only 30 then. And, putting aside existential physics for a moment to concentrate on actual matter, try looking back to that age now and imagining how you felt about now then. Not easy, is it? And probably very wrong. I’m willing to bet that who you are now bears very little resemblance to who you imagined you might be then.
It might be an idea then to start from the point we – I – am at. Looking back, it’s unimaginable. Looking forward, it’s beyond miserable. What on earth is there to hope so? I don’t like that feeling at all. I’m going to put it to one side.
So, if I decide to look at the future with an optimistic eye and taking my starting point as now, what next?
Age can complement youth
Let’s look at expectations. A 30-year-old will still be pretty much at the start of the adult life which involves career, love, family and choices, choices, choices. That’s the plus point but, while choices offer openings and opportunities, they can also sometimes overwhelm. And what if you’re the one person in your group who looks at other people’s choice and wonders why yours don’t seem quite as colourful? You might be right, you might be wrong, but it can still be a little disturbing.
In contrast, a 60-year-old is likely to be more settled, whether they like it or not. Personal and family choices will have been taken and, if mistakes have been made, there may have been corrections that, hopefully, have improved the situation. Life’s about learning.
Career-wise, it may be a similar picture. If you have a plan for retirement, you’ll have an idea whether or not it fits your requirements. Many self-employed business people tell me they do not plan to retire because they love what they’re doing. But those I know who work for someone else tell me they’re looking forward to taking a step back from the workplace. They have many projects they want to move onto and , in general, they’re cheerfully optimistic.
I read these two very quick synopses and am curious about the gloom I was feeling earlier. Emotionally, the getting older bit doesn’t sound as bad as I first thought.
Youth may come with idealism, optimism, beauty and that whole range of vitality that is so appealing. But, on reflection, age and experience seems as though it might have something going for it too. How can I turn my fear of what lies ahead into faith that there will be a good future for me and my friends?
I explore the big picture and feel slightly overwhelmed so it’s back to the bite-sized pieces for me. I make a list of the pros and cons of what I believe I have going for me and, once again, I’m surprised there’s much more than I expected. I’ve weathered the storms, retained a sense of humour and am more on the solvent side than I was when I was young. I have friends of different ages so I stay in touch with different viewpoints; I read newspapers and keep up to date with current affairs (not too much, it’s all a bit bleak) and I have more time to concentrate on what I enjoy.
On the minus side, I’m reasonably fit but have “blossomed” over the years and recognise the physical effects of ageing. Instead of fretting, however, I’ve started swimming again.
I love the feeling of weightlessness and I’m told that, if I do it often enough, I’ll feel fitter. If not, it’s something I have the time to do and the space to enjoy it – and it’s good for mindfulness. Ironically, my mindfulness allows me to mind less about how I might appear to others. I’m no longer so bothered at putting a less-than-perfect body on show. That comes with maturity.
Beach ready? Of course. A healthy body’s to be treasured at every age
This is only a snapshot, but that’s all it’s meant to be. It’s up to you to work out what your future may hold. Try making your own lists. You may be surprised at how many positives outweigh the negatives. It’s easy to be self-critical and look forwards with dark thoughts but what’s to gain. Relax, enjoy what you have. As for me, I’m no longer going to try and measure my horizon. Instead, I’m going to look towards it with interest and enthusiasm, and be grateful for what’s come before.