“The best dreams may be the ones we least suspect” - Ian Brown in “Sixty”

Today, I offer the second in a three-part essay inspired by Ian Brown’s excellent book, “Sixty”. Read slowly at bedtime, this book gave me three months of opportunities to think about what aging means to me and to compare and contrast my views with the author’s. The first part of this essay is available at http://last100mondays.blogspot.com/2016/09/maybe-this-is-what-part-of-being-alive.html

In “Sixty”, Ian Brown writes that one of the key challenges of aging is to choose to use the fact that our time is limited to focus our energy on making the most of the time we have. This resonates for me. While I hope to share decades of life yet with my loved ones, exploring the world around, and within, us, I know my life could end at any moment. While I make plans on the scale of months and years, I try to stay alive to the minutes and seconds I am sharing with those I care for right now.

I want to use my time, and abilities, while I have them. I accept that aging will mean real physical changes, challenges, and limitations. This is inevitable and I hope I will be graceful both about accepting those limitations I cannot overcome and about working to overcome those I can. I have watched a neighbor, only 10-15 years older than I am, lose about 90% of her vision and struggle with worsening dementia. We do what we can to help, and feel such admiration for her positive attitude and her husband’s loving support for her.

I watch my father struggling at times with isolation. He seems happy much of the time, yet he is missing out on time with his great grandchildren as he chooses not to engage with them as much as he could. I know his hearing loss is an issue even with his hearing aids, and he tends to want things his own way. I see that it’s hard for him to accept some of the changes he is experiencing, too, and I hope he doesn’t feel too isolated. I call him and make time to spend with him when I am there. Still, I wish he’d let himself take more joy in the children.

What a contrast this is to an 83 year old man I met at the hardware store in in our town recently. He suffers from COPD and some memory loss, but treats his breathing exercises as meditation and considers the change in his mental state a different, normal, state of consciousness. We talked about this during our chance meeting as two strangers, and he shared that he is learning to make the best of this new way of experiencing the world. He was there to buy some painting supplies for a very creative furniture finishing project he’s working on and was looking forward to realizing his vision. Meeting him brightened my day and opened my mind to another way we can choose to age. I hope I’ll be lucky enough to see him around town again some time.

Brown writes about the fear and depression that we can experience in the face of a health crisis for ourselves or our loved ones. I can relate to the risk of despair in the face of a bad diagnosis but hope I would find a way to rise above the fear and depression and to stay engaged as long as I could. Of course, I hope even more that I’ll never again face a challenge like this. My own experience with serious illness a few years ago challenged me to rise above limitations and scared me into a new focus that I think benefits me. That heightened sense of the preciousness of the time we have to share has never left me and I know I am even more motivated to live the love I feel to the best of my ability.

In “Sixty”, Brown also struggles with the idea that aging may be an increasingly lonely process and his vision of the end-game of life is pretty bleak  It is curious that he is finding greater peace in more solitude as he ages and yet has written that aging involves increasing loneliness. I know from my own experience that time alone can be very different from loneliness. I wonder how he sees these differences.

I don't think I agree with Brown that getting older is necessarily a process of getting lonelier. I think this can, and does, happen but I don't think it has to. To me it seems that the elders who work to stay engaged with family and community have less of this accumulating loneliness.  Still, one night I ended my reading with this line in the book. “The only thing you can hope for is that it doesn't get too lonely too fast“, and I felt that deeply and thought to myself “Man, does that feel true”. I know I’ll be doing what I can to stay connected instead of being lonely and hope those connections help lessen the loneliness for those I love when they are far away, or should they pass on before I do.

He writes that there is no reason for tenderness to decline with age, and I agree. I think our tenderness may evolve, as many things do, but that doesn't necessarily mean decline. Certainly, I deal with my own feelings of loneliness, depression, and self-doubt, but these don't seem to be age related so far for me. It seems it has always been an effort for me to find peace and it can still be as I age. Tenderness, and closeness with my loved ones in general, seems to be one important balance to the loneliness, and the joy they bring helps me find peace.

In the course of his sixtieth year, Ian Brown faces the death of his father and he writes of grief and loss and of the comfort of spending time with loved ones at these times. He also struggles with his fear of the nothingness that he believes follows death. I felt sympathy for him as I read this part of the book, but not empathy for I don't share those feelings. I am deeply grateful for my beloved wife, Sue, and all my loved ones, and I don't look forward to being left behind here by the death of any of them. Yet, if that is the shape my future takes, I will continue whole as I feel the grief that comes with the compelling illusion that we must part for a while.

If I should die before some of my beloveds, I imagine they will continue without me and bear their grief as whole people. We are each complete and I am so glad we have come together to make each other’s lives sweeter and richer. I trust it will have been enough in the end. I also have faith that love never ends. That we are in fact all part of some fabric of love that is endless beyond space and time.

I have confidence that if I keep working to do what I feel in my heart is right, and if I love as fully, openly, and courageously as I can, remembering that this courage includes loving quietly when that's best, I will be able to forgive myself for my inevitable mistakes and be satisfied that this life was the best I could make it. And better for having been shared with those I love.

I will finish these thoughts in part three next Monday.

(The photo at the top of this week's essay is of my father with his parents)

“Maybe this is what part of being alive is about, and why I can never regret that I was, even if it has to end one day.” - Ian Brown in “Sixty”

Today, I begin a three-part essay reflecting on my experience of the process of aging. Certainly, this is relevant as I look forward to retirement and hope to enjoy that next stage of my life as a healthy, aging, man. Many of my thoughts are inspired by having slowly read Ian Brown’s book, “Sixty”, at bedtime over the past three months. In the end I find myself more optimistic than he is and grateful to have spent this time with his thoughts and feelings about his sixtieth year.

Some of what I’m writing today, I’ve drawn from comments I wrote in letters as I read the book. I still enjoy writing “old school” letters and sending them through the mail and I’ve been enjoying sharing my thoughts about “Sixty” with the dear friend who suggested this book to me. I find writing to friends one of the best ways to relax, and to explore my thoughts and feelings, and I’m grateful to have friends happy to receive and read my, rather long, letters!

Ian Brown sees the years past sixty as “The final frontier where you will either find the thing your heart has always sought, which you have never able to name, or you won't”, and this resonates for me in a way that is tied up with the search for meaning. He holds out the hope that having looked hard for that will have been enough and I hope it will. That doing all I can to live the love I feel as honestly, and caringly, as I can may be enough. That being truly loving will allow me to make amends for the harm I’ve done, to find the peace of mind, heart, and soul to accept the mistakes I’ve made that broke things in ways that cannot be mended, and, most importantly, to leave no doubt in the hearts of my beloveds that I have loved them with all that I am in the best way I could, and always will.

Brown seems significantly more concerned about the physical effects of aging, on many levels, than I am. He worries as he travels from 60 to 61 about his physical attractiveness, sexual performance, changes in his various organs and bodily systems, memory, skin, hair, and heart. He reads, and worries, about the neurophysiology of the aging brain. As he laments the physical effects of aging and grapples with the question of age and sexual behavior, he seems to focus on how much, how often, and differences between the larger groups of men and women.  He seems so focused on the physical and I can see why this would lead him to worry.

I find myself looking at these issues in a different context. While I accept that there are physical changes and limitations for my aging body, I also see myself as so much more than physical. My heart, mind, and soul have grown and will continue growing. While physical intimacy is a wonderful way to share a special closeness, I’m glad it is not necessary to be sexual to be intimate. I’ve never seen the point of a sexual relationship without emotional intimacy in any case. I imagine that what is more important is the full, rich, range of the personal intimate experiences of each individual, and not simply the physical experience, or the aggregate statistics. I’m glad that, as Brown struggles with the changes of aging, he also appreciates the fall colors of the trees, and is able to remember that he had a crush on one of his 5th grade teachers.

I also think a lot about changes in my heart, but not on a physiological level. I have seen my capacity for love and compassion grow, and my awareness of others become sharper, and more nuanced over time. I wonder how our choices allow us to be more or less intimate in our own relationships as we age, whatever form that intimacy takes? I’m glad there are many loving ways to grow, and to be, close.

In the end, I think maintaining strong, loving connections with others will help aging be a healthier, more positive experience. We will age, and we will do our best with what we have. I am so grateful to have lasted this long and to have a future ahead to share with my loved ones. I'll make the most of this chance whatever time and age have in store for me.

Brown writes of having learned that, while short-term memory declines with age, longer-term “crystallized intelligence”, or wisdom, remains longer and may grow. He also writes that slowing down and attending to details may help with retaining memory and cognitive function. This gives me hope. Maybe I’m on a good path with my old-school letters, reflecting, observing, rock garden of memories, and “Do You Remember?” essays!

As I read “Sixty”, I often found Ian Brown comparing himself with others. I have surely indulged in this myself at times, but I haven’t found it very helpful. As he made these comparisons, and found himself wanting, our guilty at having made them to find himself superior to others, I wished he could hear some kind friend reassure him that, with his own fine qualities, he is enough. I know I could struggle as he does if I compared myself to others. To Pierce Brosnan, Tom Cruise, and other men the women around me point to as attractive or desirable. To younger men who might appear to have more to offer physically; being in better shape, better looking, more energetic. To my own younger self, and aspects of my younger self and life that were arguably better than my experiences and abilities today. I could worry about my thinning hair, wrinkles, and so many other things.

I don't choose to do this. It doesn’t seem to hold the promise of greater happiness or satisfaction. I find myself thinking of the lines in Max Ehrmann’s “Desiderata” that read “If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.”  Instead of making these narrow comparisons, I prefer to look at the bigger picture. If the questions are “How have I changed?” and “How am I changing now?”, I prefer to look beyond my skin, hair, virility, and physical flexibility and endurance.

I seek to see and assess myself as a whole person. There is no question that in some physical ways I am less than what I was. At the same time, I have greater knowledge and understanding, empathy and compassion, joy and love than at any prior time in my life. While I am growing physically less over time, as a person with a body, mind, heart, and soul, I am growing to be more each day. I am gaining wisdom, enjoying the deepest friendships, and the sweetest love of my life. I am making choices each day, some of them very hard, to do what is right. I have every reason to be happy and satisfied. This book certainly gave me lots to think about! I’ll continue these thoughts next Monday.

(The photo at the top of this week's essay is of my mother and father with her parents)

Part two of this essay is available at http://last100mondays.blogspot.com/2016/09/best-dreams-may-be-ones-we-least.html

"Whoever, in middle age, attempts to realize the wishes and hopes of his early youth, invariably deceives himself. Each ten years of a man's life has its own fortunes, its own hopes, its own desires.” - Edward in Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s “Elective Affinities” 1809

Today, I am thinking more about retirement and what I hope it means. This seems a bit like thinking about what it will be like to spend time in some new place I have never visited, or with people I have corresponded with but never met. I cannot know how retirement will feel, or what it will mean for me until I experience it myself. This is clearly part of the uneasiness that comes along with my eager anticipation to begin this new part of my life.

I don’t expect retirement to be an end to work. Instead, I imagine it will involve changes in the work I do and the emphasis I place on doing different things. I will still want the way I spend my time to be meaningful and satisfying. I hope it will be even more so than it is now. I also plan to continue working part time for a while, perhaps 12-24 months, to help shift gears from the stressful, full-time, work I have been doing, and to make some more money to support the things we’d like to do together.

In my career as a technician, it was easier to recognize where my ability and talent allowed me to make a difference. I spent more time doing things that fired my curiosity and aligned with my passion and desire to learn. In my career as a manager, and at my best a leader, It has been harder to have confidence that my talent and ability are making enough of a difference. It has been harder still to feel that I am acting on my passion and desire to do what is right with love. The realities of budgets, and other constraints, limit what we can accomplish. My ongoing efforts to raise executives’ awareness of the value of IT to the university, and even more the value of the people who do the work, have not been entirely successful. I know I have made a difference, and I believe I will be able to look back on this chapter in my life with pride and satisfaction. Still, I wish I could have served those who I work with even better than I have.

In retirement, I expect to find, and make, more time to do things that matter to me. To spend more time at other intersections “between passion and ability, desire and talent” than I have been able to during my working life. I will spend more time writing songs and playing music. I will take time to practice playing more instruments and exploring making music. I’ve always loved spending time this way. I want to have more time to sing with children and to volunteer to help advance social justice, and literacy.

I plan to spend time writing. There are essays I want to write on love, poetry that isn’t meant to be set to music, and I’d like to try fiction. I think that will be much harder! I don’t really expect to be published. I simply enjoy the process of exploring and sharing thoughts and feelings through writing. I will spend more time with woodworking. There are many projects that I’d love to do around our house, things I want to make for my loved ones, and creative ideas to explore. Wood is such a wonderful natural material. I’d love to try my hand at making musical instruments. In time, I may even be able to find some modest income from my enjoyment of music and woodworking.

I will have more time to be quiet and to listen to the “still small voice” within me. I’m learning that, while I am clearly good at being outgoing, and engaging with energy and positivity to collaborate with others, functioning as an effective extrovert, this sometimes seems to take a lot of energy. I like quiet time, including introspection, reading, writing, and composing, to recharge my batteries. I think having more time to spend this way will be a wonderful benefit of retirement.

I’ve also learned that my optimism and introspection compliment each other well. When they are aligned, I find energy and beauty in what I discover. When my introspection leads me to confront difficult inner challenges, my optimism sustains me as I come to grips with these. When my optimism threatens, or succeeds, in taking me to a place where I’m a bit too over the top, my introspection can help temper this and bring me down to earth.

I am so looking forward to more time in nature. The quiet there is some of the best, and the beauty of the natural world feeds my heart and soul. We know that travel will be a favorite part of retirement for us and we’ve begun making some plans for new adventures. Our favorite travel destinations take us into the natural world, and bring us together with loved ones. What joy there will be in more times like these!

Most of all, I will honor the most important intersection of all. The one that is most centered in my heart and soul. Time with my beloveds. My family and dearest friends. I grow in love to be my best self both for me, and for them. My career has given us the opportunity to provide a living for our family. In retirement, it will continue providing our living as I work to give my dear ones more of myself, and to be more completely myself in delighting in their company. That will be the best of all.

There is so much more to see. Beyond me in this world we will explore together. Within me as I come to understand, and share, my mind, my heart, my soul. Retirement will be a fascinating journey.

"A man is not idle because he is absorbed in thought. There is visible labor and invisible labor” -Victor Hugo

It’s Labor Day again. I find myself thinking of the people I’ve shared work with all these years and about the work we’ve done. I’m thinking about work and how it has defined so much of my life. This will be the last Labor Day while I am working full time and I’m grateful to be looking forward to retirement. I’m also grateful looking back on my life as a man who has worked.

I have a deep sense of the value of work. If I had not had to work for my living, I imagine I would have found some other work because of my need for purpose. Our work has real, lasting, value for each other, for our families, and for ourselves. We each bring special talents, knowledge, abilities, and personal characteristics to our work. Each of us represents a unique constellation of these and something would be missing from the work, and the lives we share, if any one of us were not part of this shared effort.

If it weren’t for the work of my colleagues, the work I do would not be possible and I could not achieve meaningful results. If it weren’t for the work of the farmers, the bakers, the teachers, the truck drivers, the doctors, the florists, the carpenters, the firefighters, the police, the artists, and on and on, the amazing richness of the lives we share would impossible, or greatly diminished. If it weren’t for the work of love done by mothers, fathers, siblings, spouses, grandparents, and friends, this amazing rich life would be bereft of, or diminished in, meaning and sweetness. Not just the skill and effort, but also the patience and compassion of all these who work to make life possible is essential.

I feel deep admiration for those who have worked beside me. Often I have needed their patience and compassion as I have struggled to bring my best to the work we share. Daily I have marveled at their creativity, commitment, and  humanity. Even in the hardest times, they have shown up each day and given the best they could bring to this work. Often it was in crisis that their abilities, and their humanity, shone brightest. I have been blessed to work with people of good character and true dedication. I’m grateful to believe that the vast majority of us who work share this blessing.

I have a special admiration beyond the power of my poor words to express for my loved ones. My family, and special friends, and for the work they have done, and do. My dear ones have worked to teach, to create art, and to heal. The have worked with flowers, with steel, and with the bits and bytes of IT. We include engineers, business people, and musicians. Their work as mothers, fathers, grandparents, and friends shines with love and devotion. These special ones have allowed me to be close to them. To see their best attributes and deepest challenges in the work of making our livings, and the much more important work of making the lives we share. They have shaped the man I have become with their love. They have supported me in my work and life, and allowed me to support them in theirs. These dear ones are beloved to me and I love them so.

This Labor Day, I think of all these labors of love that are the commonplace fabric of our daily lives, For each of us work has special value as it allows us to live with purpose. To make a difference. The work is often hard and tedious, and it can be thankless and distasteful. I’m thankful that work is also deeply satisfying, challenging to my mind and abilities, and that it has allowed us to provide our family with a good living.

I often hear advice from people that we should look for work that is aligned with our passion. Those who think more carefully about these questions will advise that we consider not only our passions but also our abilities. I’ve recently heard this confluence described as the “"intersection between passion and ability, desire and talent" and it is an exciting place to work. Outside our home, I’ve come closest to this in my work at SHARE, and have approached it at times in my work at the university. I’ve come closest of all to this place in my work as husband, father, and friend.

In my reflections about my own passion, ability, desire, and talent, it seems clear to me that these are greatest when I am able to work with love. I imagine, and hope, that love is significant in all our lives. For me it is essential. Working to gain greater awareness of the love I feel, to nurture a greater connection to my beloveds, and to foster more love in the world is my greatest passion. I certainly have the desire to do these things, and I believe I have some talent and ability as a man seeking to live in love and help others do the same. For me, as near as I can tell, working at this intersection would be working in love.

As I look back over nearly 60 years, I can see how my path brought me close to working in love a number of times. As a young boy, among the many things I wanted to grow up to be was a pastor. As a young man, I had opportunities to serve in a loving way among a community of other young people, spent significant time with a very special pastor at our church, and considered this possible calling again. I ultimately chose to study in another field then, when I changed my major at university, I chose to pursue a degree in psychology. I graduated with a B.S, and was planning to pursue a PhD and a career in clinical psychology, when money ran short. I found work in IT and it has been a good career for me. I learned that logic and programming come easy to me, that I find problem solving stimulating and satisfying, and that I have an ability to provide direction and leadership for others in this field. Some aspects of this work come closer to my “intersection” than others and I have tried to work with love by caring for my colleagues, and those who use the systems we create and maintain. I have found that one of the best ways I can bring love to bear in my work is always to seek to do what is right.

Now my career in IT is nearing a close. I may work part time in this field after retirement for a while but I will be actively pursuing new directions. I hope to think a lot about love in my retirement. I will continue to write songs and many of those will be love songs, I also hope to write one or more essay on my own thoughts and feelings about love. I’ve been working on ideas for these for a number of years, but love is so important to me that I can’t imagine writing them until I have time to do my very best work. I look forward to volunteer work that advances equity and equality for women, literacy, and other aspects of social justice. Most of all, I hope to live love in my actions. I do expect I will love retirement, and especially more time with my loved ones!

May this Labor Day day bring us, along with a rest from our labors, a new appreciation for work, and especially for the worker. Thank you all for the work you do.