The View From 70: Reflections On Aging

If 50 is the new 30, and 60 is the new 40, then is it too far fetched to assume that 70 is the new 50?

Instead of cel­e­brat­ing my 70th birth­day which just passed, some­one sug­gested that instead I call it “the 40th anniver­sary of my 30th birth­day.” While it’s tempt­ing to con­sider skirt­ing the real­ity of the num­ber of years I’ve spent on the planet, some­thing is call­ing me to face it head on — no cute lit­tle euphemisms about “70 being the new 50,” etc. I think it’s time to call a spade a spade.

While today’s 70 year old is noth­ing like the 70 year olds of my par­ents’ gen­er­a­tion, there is no mis­tak­ing the fact that by any mea­sure, turn­ing 70 marks the begin­ning of a whole new ter­ri­tory in life, one we used to call “old age.” Funny though, except for those rare occa­sions when I’ve com­pletely over­done it on the phys­i­cal plane, I rarely feel “old.”

But what is “old” exactly? And what does it mean to be 70 in a soci­ety that wor­ships youth­ful­ness and peo­ple strive to main­tain it at all costs?

Does turn­ing 70 mean that it’s time to give up on liv­ing? Does it mean los­ing inter­est in the things that have hereto­fore been the source of pas­sion and alive­ness? Does it mean that we’re swept into the cor­ner, left to gather mold and dust until we finally fade away? What the heck is this aging busi­ness all about anyway?

I can only tell you this: From my own per­spec­tive here on the thresh­old of this new ter­ri­tory, like every­thing else in life, get­ting older is exactly what we tell our­selves it is, no more and no less. If we buy into the cul­tural stereo­type of aging, then it prob­a­bly means all of the above and we will march in lock step straight to the rock­ing chair of life and promptly fall fast asleep.

But it doesn’t have to be this way. I believe we can age grace­fully, not fight­ing or deny­ing the fact, take a turn in the rock­ing chair, put our feet up and take a lit­tle time out. At 70, one has earned reg­u­lar time outs. But that doesn’t mean set­ting up camp there and falling asleep! The rock­ing chair is a well-deserved respite, but notice that for it to do what it was designed to do, it must be kept in motion. And so must we. “A rolling stone gath­ers no moss,” and all that sort of thing.

Stay­ing in motion means more than just remain­ing phys­i­cally active, although doing so is crit­i­cal for us elders. Get­ting older also means learn­ing to appre­ci­ate this stage of life as a new adven­ture. There is still much to be dis­cov­ered! This time of life offers up a whole new pos­si­bil­ity for learn­ing and engag­ing in cre­ative expression.

But only if we get our minds wrapped around it. One can do pretty much any­thing if we get our minds “right.” You and I know this to be true, and nav­i­gat­ing old age is no different.

To be sure, there is a new cur­ricu­lum await­ing us at this thresh­old. Based on my own expe­ri­ence and that of oth­ers I know who are at this stage of life, one can expect to be given plenty of oppor­tu­ni­ties to let go of what is no longer nec­es­sary for the jour­ney ahead. That can end up look­ing like loss on many lev­els, and depend­ing upon how we frame it, loss can either be free­ing or be the source of suf­fer­ing. Ask me how I know!

Think about how you define your­self today. Who are you? Some­day, your answer to that ques­tion will begin to shift and you will find your­self in a some­what neb­u­lous place of uncer­tainty, after a life­time of think­ing you were one thing, only to dis­cover that iden­tity no longer fits. Some­day, you will reach a point where you’re no longer your title or your job descrip­tion. You might still be somebody’s wife or hus­band, mother or father, but in the final analy­sis, is that who you really are?

Are we defined by our rela­tion­ships? By the peo­ple we love? By our good works? By our mis­takes? By our mis­giv­ings, fears, or regrets? How does one’s iden­tity morph over a life­time? And how do we let go of what no longer fits and remain open, trust­ing, lov­ing, engaged, con­nected, and pas­sion­ate about life while wait­ing to dis­cover who we are in this new moment?

It strikes me that I’m not only talk­ing about the aging process. A friend recently shared her expe­ri­ence of mov­ing back to the States after liv­ing abroad for over a year. She didn’t appre­ci­ate how much of a process it would be to make this tran­si­tion. She thought she would just pick up where she left off, that fam­ily rela­tion­ships would resume as before. What she didn’t antic­i­pate was that life moves on and peo­ple change. Now she’s feel­ing chal­lenged to cope with the gap between where her mind thought she would be now and where she actu­ally is.

This is the human story, whether we’re young or old. Life keeps on mov­ing and so must we. At age 70, I appre­ci­ate more than ever all the years I’ve put in at the gym keep­ing fit and strong, so that today, I can keep on mov­ing, phys­i­cally and in con­scious­ness. I appre­ci­ate more than ever my life­long devo­tion to learn­ing, my some­times “ter­mi­nal” curios­ity about peo­ple and what makes them come alive. I appre­ci­ate the lit­tle girl that still lives in me who always wants to know and see what’s beyond the bend in the road and com­mit­ted to fig­ur­ing out a way to get there.

I am deeply grate­ful that my younger self had the courage to wade into the deep waters of con­scious­ness, even though it wasn’t easy or com­fort­able at times. She is the one who now keeps me awake, along with a com­mu­nity of kin­dred spir­its like you, my friends and fam­ily, and those impor­tant teach­ers and men­tors who’ve helped me stay on the path.

Grow­ing up in the ‘40s and ‘50s my fan­tasies about life were inspired by Hol­ly­wood romance movies and “Father Knows Best.” My life doesn’t look like either, but frankly, I pre­fer real­ity, warts and all. Remem­ber the warts from our last dis­cus­sion? Well at 70, they take on new mean­ing. Just wait and see.

Tagged as: Aging, aging gracefully, Birthday, health, healthy aging