60: (February 2018)
I recently read The Alchemist by Paul Coelho with my monthly book club and found the tale of finding one’s ‘personal legend’ — to pursue one’s dreams — to be a worthwhile read. Yet more than one person in the book club expressed a bit of “Is that all there is?” about this worldwide bestseller. Discussion followed as to whether the tale was perhaps more powerful with younger people just starting out on life’s journey. This got me thinking.
The quest to find one’s personal legend — to follow one’s dreams — can certainly be a lifelong quest. It’s not a function of age. We can continue to dream new dreams throughout life as we continue to transform ourselves into something new, just as an alchemist allegedly transforms elements into new substances. At the core of the quest is listening to the heart, which is akin to the Greek inscription to ‘Know thyself!’ I don’t think we’re ever done getting to know ourselves, no matter what our age. And if we were, wouldn’t life be kind of boring? It’s part of the excitement of life to have the potential to discover something about yourself, not matter what age you are.
I have a friend (age 59) who recently joked with me that she’s still trying to figure out what she wants to be when she grows up. Great! She’s on an adventure! It’s called life! And so she’s still seeking and pursing questions that push her to read passionately, continue to educate herself, and express herself through art. There is mystery in the self. There are unknown depths. What are we each capable of? What do we choose to unearth, to cultivate? What didn’t we realize was there?
When my “baby” brother had a heart attack last summer, I only then realized how deeply woven into me he is. He is fine now, but it shook me to the core. I already knew how much I loved him, but I didn’t realize how interwoven he is with my being. He is part of me. I can’t really adequately put it into words, but I feel it in my heart. A new revelation. I didn’t know that he was intermingled with my essence so thoroughly. It is completely mysterious to me how that is even possible, yet it is. Who knew?
I wonder what other revelations are yet to come.
40: (February 1998)
I was talking to a friend in her kitchen. Her two young children pulled on her legs, looking up and pleading for attention, toys, food, and so much more. “Isn’t it great to feel needed?” I joked. She smiled wanly and said that she felt like a shadow of her former self.
A graduate from excellent schools, she had enjoyed a vibrant career and an active life. Four years ago when her first child was born, she chose to stay home. She brings the same passion to mothering as she did to working on environmental issues at her last job, but now she works in virtual isolation. There are few to tell her she is doing a good job, or even that she is doing a worthwhile job. It’s easy to question oneself when immersed in the day-to-day minutiae of dirty diapers and sticky hands and faces, while doing thousands of little, seemingly insignificant tasks that add up to a life. My friend must continuously search within herself for the reaffirmation she and all full-time mothers need in a society where women’s roles are varied, and mothering is sometimes undervalued.
It seems like yesterday when I was in the same situation as this woman, with a 4-year-old and a 1-year-old clinging to me, talking to me, nursing from me, needing me! It is both the most wonderful and most difficult of times. There is so much intimacy and sweetness in the relationships, yet it often saps every ounce of energy out of you. I told my friend to hang on, that things would get easier. She may feel like a shadow of her former self, but the parts that she misses are still there; they are just dormant. There is simply not enough time in her day to attend to the children and feed all the parts of her soul, too. But these parts have not gone away. She can rekindle those flames when the little hands, the hungry mouths, and the pleading eyes are not constantly on her. It may be hard for her to see that now, submerged as she is in the daily grind.
I commend my friend and all mothers who care for their young children. The children do need you. We all need you. You nurture life itself. And that is a gift to everyone.
60-40:
Last week I happened to get together with the friend I wrote about in 1998, to catch up with her after work. She’s the executive director of a nonprofit that is doing important things for the world. Her children have grown into two remarkable young men; they are embarking on their own lives in pursuit of their own personal legends, just as my friend is. Just as I am. We are all at very different stages of life, but we are all transforming, growing, following our hearts, and learning to listen to our hearts more closely.
There is always something new to be revealed.
60-40 