Reflections from Middle Age

New year… new resolutions, new plans, new you?

Even if you don’t tend toward that sort of thing, there is an impulse to think about starting fresh post the midnight fireworks. Of course, every day is the start of a new year. Each new dawn a full twirl around the sun since the last time the 12^th of January or the 25^th of March, or even the very next moment, came around.

The discussion around the table at New Year’s Eve this year reeked with a sense of time running out and, to quote, a need to get cracking. That’s the age we’re at – well into middle age. At an age where the end of the runway seems exponentially closer than it did a decade ago. With parents now lost to us, or in old age homes or suffering from the aftereffects of broken bones or the onset of dementia, it brings a stark reality to the conversation. The fact that, at some point, the practicalities of our aging bodies and brains will put the handbrake on our dreams is tangible. It begs the question, what are we going to do with this time?

With our children all leaving school or on the verge of doing so, life is changing, transitioning. Horizons are opening up beyond school fees and Saturday school sports. Our roles are, once again, being redefined. This is perhaps more strongly felt by those of us who have played the role of primary care giver for the past two decades. The person who organises the family, thinks firstly about their needs, happiness and wellbeing, and ensures the fridge is stocked and no one runs out of clean underwear. For us, it feels a bit more than the changing of a job title. It feels like a changing of identity.

We think about transitions as instantaneous – one minute here, the next there. As if walking through a doorway. But they are anything but. They are journeys in themselves. An entering of uncharted waters.  We’ve left the shore of one sort of life and may, or may not, have a sense of the shore we are shooting for. But there is much to be discovered in the journey between here and there, and who knows what winds may blow us off course.

In truth, although we think in linear terms – from here to there, from the past to the future, all we really have is the moment we are in. And although it is meaningful to have goals and ambitions, shores to aim our boats towards, they serve us best as navigational guide posts, rather than a list of achievements to tick off the list or showcase a successful life. The thing about achievement is that it is also momentary – no sooner gained than in the past. Only experienced via memory, like everything else.

This is what age and perspective are teaching me. The journey matters more than the destination. As we transition towards the kids-out-of-home stage, I’m trying to reframe how I think about life – from achievement and action focused, to an opportunity to indulge in curiosity. My resolution, best framed as a desire I suppose, is to be more okay with just being. With letting go of the illusion of control. Of pointing my boat in the direction that aligns with my values and curiosity, and savour the journey itself.

Right now I’m in a coffee shop in Tokyo. Our almost 17-year-old son has set off on his own, determined to carve out a little piece of independence for himself.  In almost all ways I like this determination, it’s definitely better than the usual teenage, social media induced, apathy I’m constantly complaining about. But if you know me at all, inside I’m a ball of tightly rung anxiety. This is the nature of transition. We have to work through not just the changes but our feelings about it too.

In a very real sense, this next stage, even with all its aches and anxieties, is one of freedom. We are lucky enough not to be subsistence farmers (even though so many of us construct asset / debt heavy lives that feel like we are modern day versions of them). We have more freedom to live consciously than any other time in history, should we choose it. I like to think that is what the future may hold for us. Freedom.

Recently we (re)watched Dead Poet’s Society with our 18-year-old. I was her age when I watched it previously, and cried as much then as she and I both did on this occasion. It really doesn’t matter if you’re transitioning to adulthood, or to empty nester. The same truth is baked into our very nature of existence. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may… seize the day.

Perhaps this is a better resolution than most. Memento mori carpe diem*. Not to just seize the day, but to savour it. Enjoy it. Appreciate it. And to ensure it is not just the pursuit of pleasure or achievement, but is meaningfully rich, in the moments that make up our lives. Life is short, time is always running out. What are we spending our time on?

* “Remember you’re going to die; make the most of life.”

Onwards,

Sharlene

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