Thirty-four years ago, in August 1990, I was thirty-one years old, just a year older than Jonathan is today, and my parents were 65. My memories of those years offer me an interesting perspective on my parent’s lives at the same age as I am today.
My parents lived a different life than me, particularly in their formative years. That’s when our personalities, beliefs, values, and behaviors are shaped. It is also the period of our lives when we develop a sense of identity, learn social norms, and begin to form our worldview. Given the differences in our early years, it makes sense that who we are in the final chapters of our lives would be different.
Different, but neither is necessarily better than the other.
In my life, I have had the good fortune to have a number of good-paying jobs, well beyond my father’s peak earnings. But Dad had a great retirement that, while it probably never qualified him as affluent, he never had to worry about whether he would have the resources to live comfortably for the rest of his life. I remember his retirement years much simpler than mine, and I am not sure who has had the better experience.
I spent much of my life comparing what I had to people who had so much more than me. It’s no wonder it has taken me so long to finally begin to find a measure of the peace I have long yearned for in my life. It was a mountain I could never summit.
While I never discussed it with my father, I have an unmistakable sense that, unlike me, he compared what he had to what those with far less had. It was easy for him. That is where he came from. He used to describe his parents as “dirt poor.” My father always knew just how lucky he was, and that, more than anything, made him the man he was.
Aging isn’t something anyone should fear. Of course, there are things that I can no longer do that were once easy for me, but I wouldn’t trade the peace that I generally feel these days for the endless hill I spent my life trying to climb. I feel more at ease with who I am today than at any other time of my life, and none of that has anything to do with what’s in my checking account or the car in the driveway.
It is easy to say there is a lower limit on the amount of personal resources one must have to find happiness, but I am not sure that is true. Take a look at the life some Buddhist monks live. I will admit that, at least as of this writing, I don’t have it in me to live that life, but I also know that I really need far less than what I have to be happy.
The one thing I wish younger generations understood about aging is that some of the best times of our lives come in the later years. That is the time when we finally begin to see ourselves for who we really are at our core, assuming we are willing to look. That understanding changes the way we see everything in life. The more we know ourselves, the more clearly we see the world around us. It is less clouded by our ambitions, fears, and all the distractions that come with climbing the ladder of life. That clarity brings a lot of peace.
Why wait until you are 65?
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