Turning 70
This morning, at 8:45 am, I slipped into the eighth decade of my life. That is not a fact that makes me happy. Grateful, yes, but happy, no. I have turned 70 and that’s incredibly hard to say in public, let alone acknowledge to myself.
I was born March 30, 1949 and on that day a star danced especially for me. From the beginning, I was positioned in a place of privilege. Early on in life, I became aware that my whiteness, my maleness, my education and my financial comfort, to mention but a few, put me at an advantage in the world. In these 70 years I didn’t die from an infectious disease, I didn’t die in a car accident and I didn’t die “suddenly” of some freak illness or a heart attack. How many I know who didn’t get out of their teens, their 20’s, 30’s, 40’s or 50’s, 60’s? How grateful I am.
l look around and wonder how I got here, landed on some foreign shore that once seemed impossibly distant. So now I have just crossed into a decade that, by most standards, defines me as “old.” Despite the angst, turning 70 has been one of the easiest things I’ve ever done. I simply showed up. I drew breath, exercised, ate well, had a long and satisfying career and bam, here I am—a newly minted septuagenarian.
On this birthday, more than any other, I feel as if I’m standing on a mountain top, at whose foot the ocean of eternity is audibly rushing; below me, life moves on--life with its deserts and flower gardens, its sunny days and its stormy days, all spread out green, wild and beautiful. Age is not measured by years. Some people are born old and tired, while others of us are still going strong well past the cusp of youth and even middle age. Contrary to what some people say, seventy is not the new 50. It’s 70!
I will heed Alexander Pope’s advice: “Pleas'd to look forward, pleas'd to look behind, and count each birthday with a grateful mind.
Ten years ago, at 60, I wrote that 60 was a good age, free of the ravages of old age. It certainly was a decade where things were relatively tranquil. I recently made a list to help me reflect on the notable things—both good and bad—that shaped my 60’s.
I have lost my mother and brother within three years of each other. I have financial security, good health and enough time to do the things that are still on my never-ending bucket list of life. Both knees were replaced during this decade thus allowing me to resume hiking and walking. Minus some parts, I’m still moving forward, intact. I am grateful to live in a time when these things can be done.
I have learned a second language, did long term substitution jobs teaching it, spent two winters traveling in South America and eight winters living in Mexico City where I worked with two refugee centers and helped developed their libraries. Often, I lived solely in Spanish. There were challenges and triumphs.
I’ve learned that the words “I love you” and “I’m sorry” can never be said enough, in whatever language. I made new friends around the globe, lost some as well and I have realized that those who left me were never friends to begin with. I have enriched friends and they enriched me.
I’ve learned that listening to my heart is as important as listening to my head, because ignoring either leads to dangerous decision making. I’ve learned that questions are often more valuable than answers, and that when the questioning stops, life in some important measure ends, even though I’m still breathing.
I’ve learned to listen more and talk less. I’ve learned that life is basically less about having then about doing and being. I’ve learned to listen to the different voices that guide me at this juncture of life, and I’ve learned that these deeper voices will sound like risk, surrender, trust, destiny and love. I’ve learned to be kind, even to the most miserable person, because one never knows what one is going through at that moment. I’ve learned that these voices of an intimate stranger that’s from somewhere else is the still, small voice of God that Elijah slowly learned to hear.
The second half of life asks us, and ultimately requires of us, relinquishment. Relinquishment of identification with property and role status. It is time to embrace inwardly confirmed values. The second half of life presents us with the time and space for personal development. I am never going to have greater powers of choice. I am never going to possess more emotional resistance, more insight, into what works for me and what doesn’t. Jung’s most compelling contribution was the idea of individuation--the lifelong project of becoming more clearly the whole person that God intended us to be. This is the time to reexamine life and make necessary changes as well as experiencing the quiet joy of life in relationship to the soul.
A closer-than-desired brush with death at 69 forced me to face my own mortality. The outpouring of love around me allowed me to see the Incarnation of God in their compassion. I learned to listen to the messages in my body, to slow down, to live in the precious moment of now. I learned that to be is a blessing and that just to live is a holy act. I am a better, happier and stronger man than I before the incident and more appreciative of every day. Not a bad lesson to learn at the cusp of a new decade.
There is still much to do and achieve. If the agenda of the first half of life is social, meeting the demands and expectations society asks of us--establishing friendships, finding one’s place in the world and establishing a career--then the questions of the second half of life are spiritual, addressing the larger issue of meaning. Our belief system at this juncture of life is finally not a moral matter; it’s a mystical matter.
I’ll be 70 for a full year and in my seventies for a lengthy ten years. That means I’ll have to adjust my expectations. To know how to age well is the master work of wisdom, and one of the most challenging chapters in the great art of living.
I’m pretty sure that I’ve skied my last black diamond off the summit of Whiteface. It’s doubtful that I’ll buy another necktie or suit. The long-ago bucket-list of hiking the Appalachian Trail no longer holds the same appeal it once did.
Even though my body has been betraying itself for some time, so have stamina, capacity and resilience. I can no longer multitask. I need more time to do things, more time between everyday responsibilities and more time to recover. It’s been a humbling experience. I now have a front-row seat to the spectacle of my own deterioration.
Still, I’m grateful for so very much. I will be hopeful, cheerful and reverent. I will continue to blow out candles, play, nap, go to the gym, volunteer, and binge. I will continue to dream, dare, imagine, push my limits, wonder, forgive friends and do more than I think I can. I’ve never given up, or used the word “can’t,” and I’m not going to begin now.
At this point I’m perfectly comfortable walking in mystery and paradox. I will travel and Travel Big! Not only will I continue living in Mexico, now’s the time for the Silk Route from Istanbul to Delhi, to travel from Johannesburg to Nairobi, and to enjoy longer cruises. Big Trips, multi days. “Old men should be explorers” T. S. Elliot said, and I intend to follow his advice.
Most of all I will celebrate myself and express thanks to the God who has maintained me for all these years.
This new decade of my life will hold interesting challenges, joys and sorrows. I know the fragility ahead, but I also know that I am privileged to gain membership in the three score and ten club.
Happy birthday to me!
Dan Ladue
March 30, 2019
No comments:
Post a Comment