60: (August 2018)
Thirty-five or 40 years ago, life seemed to stretch out indefinitely into a sort of vast, fuzzy space. At least that’s how I looked at it. The future held infinite possibilities!
With each passing decade, some possibilities closed, yet others opened. I may no longer be able to entertain the idea of ever being a concert pianist for example, but I hadn’t imagined that I would have grown children who would sing songs with me that I had composed. In the past month, I’ve had the unexpected pleasure of singing a peace song I wrote with one of my daughters in a music circle in Ireland, and singing original songs with my other daughter and one of my musical friends in my living room – all the more special to me considering that one daughter lives in Germany and the other in Mexico. I could never have predicted that!
The fact that time no longer stretches out into quite so much space makes it feel more imperative now to use my life energy in as meaningful a way as I can. Of course, that begs the question of “What makes life meaningful?” Work and relationships alone give me more than enough to focus on – throw in artistic, intellectual, and spiritual pursuits, and it feels like life overflows with possibility.
Where can I make a difference? What is the best use of my time and energy? How can I leave the world a better place? These are questions that occur to me when pondering the optimal way to spend my work life.
How can I love my family more fully? Be a more devoted friend? How can I be a better steward of the earth? These are questions that come to mind with regard to relationships.
There is a freedom at this point in life to devote oneself to larger questions. It’s reminiscent of when I was in my twenties, only now the freedom doesn’t come from having a vast swath of time before me, but from having already done a lot of the big things, like raising children, owning a home, and accomplishing career goals. It’s a new chapter tempered with significantly more knowledge and experience. It feels good. There’s a satisfaction in having lived through several life stages and conquering them, more or less. I mean, I’m still here and excited about life, so that’s got to count for something!
How can my life be put to best use? Experience tells me that having asked the question, the answers will come.
40: (August 1998)
Next week my children will be going to school. One daughter will be starting the third grade, the other will be entering kindergarten. A phase of my life will be ending—the intense, being-at-home-with-young-children phase—where joy, exhaustion, and fragmentation reign. I simultaneously feel a mixture of giddy excitement at the prospect of 15 hours a week to myself and a wrenching nausea at seeing my little one go. In truth, I do not want this phase to end.
But that is always my way. I do not like change. Instead of welcoming change, or simply accepting it, I cling to what was. I need to practice the art of “letting go.”
My little one is ready to go. She’s pleased to be grown-up enough to join her sister at school. She didn’t attend preschool, so this is an especially big moment for her. I delight in her enthusiasm. I like to think that the closeness we shared for five years and the times her father and I spent as her first teachers are fueling the obvious confidence she feels in taking this important step in her life.
Now I need help taking mine. After eight years of being completely available to my children, I am faced with what to do with my free time. I am resisting the urge to schedule those 15 hours. I want to relax a bit, to try to ease into this phase and adjust. Eating bonbons and watching television might be an option, except that we disconnected our cable last year and only get snow. Well, that leaves the bonbons. But much as I love chocolate, even that might get old after a few weeks.
I could get a job, but only if I can be home when the children are. I could do more writing, piano playing, and volunteer work—all the things I was so impatient to do when I had a little one asking to be held, needing more juice, or wanting to play “pretend.” I could do a lot of things.
But if you see me sitting on the side of the road across from the elementary school with a half-eaten box of chocolates on my lap, stop and tell me it will be all right. They have to grow up sometime, right? Now if only I can.
60-40:
Twenty years ago I was focused on letting go. It was hard to see the intensive mothering phase end, because I loved it so much and didn’t know what the future would bring. The phase I am in now seems more additive. I’ve gained more children through my second marriage, along with the joy of two grandchildren. I’m not letting go, I’m adding on!
I’ve also learned to let go of a lot of fear I used to carry around with me. The future, with all its uncertainties, used to scare me. Maybe I’ve learned to finally embrace the unknown, to in fact find delight in it a bit, because every phase of life so far has been pretty good. Some have had more challenges than others, but I probably learned the most during those times, so I can’t complain. The future? Bring it on!
60-40 