When I was a child, at sixty years you were considered old and almost written off, at seventy you were considered ‘pretty much dead’ unless you were a freak of nature. The world has changed and so have Homo Sapiens, who’s life expectancy has dramatically increased. During a recent visit to the cemetery in my hometown, I was surprised by the number of people who had made it into their nineties, this included several of my relatives. Now, we not only live longer, but we also work longer and are retired for a longer period of time. Some have a ‘bucket list’, others just let things happen. Some get depressed when they reach a milestone birthday, others ‘live it up’. I find much truth in the lyrics of the song my sister and brother in-law sang at my birthday party: “ mit sechzig fangt das Leben erst an” (“life really begins at sixty”). In fact, life begins every time we leave something behind and begin afresh, participating in a continual natural process of renewal and a progression to a higher level of existence.
Now that I have hit 60, life has become more comfortable, viewed from the perspective that most of my work is done, I am now more appreciative than productive. When shit happens I let it flow away rather than fight it ‘head on’.
Car manufacturers leave cast iron engine blocks out in the weather for several years until the metal has lost all its stresses, making it enormously resistant to the heat and pressures of a running engine. After 60 years on planet earth, seasoned by the turbulent ‘weather of life’, I feel like a human version of an engine block, relaxed, content and highly resistant or immune to stressful internal and external influences. I watch the parade rather than participate, distant from all the hype and fanfare. An engine’s power is generated within the engine block, so is our ability to ‘perceive clearly’ generated in a seasoned, or mellowed mind e.g. one can tell the prime minister is lying as soon as he/she starts talking. I have no career to make and in view of the realisation that most things can wait and the ones that can’t are not worth chasing, deadlines have mostly become a thing of the past. My pace has slowed as I travel the road of life at a beautiful age indeed.
God willing and circumstances permitting I shall follow up on this blog at seventy.