Vibrant At Any Age
By Nancy Worley Harrison
When I was a child, I believed that as I grew up, the adults around me would naturally grow down. It seemed only right and just at the time. Now I chuckle inside when I confess that childhood notion — because I work hard, every single day, to prove myself wrong.
Remember the Grinch? That gloriously grumpy creature in How the Grinch Stole Christmas? He set out to ruin Christmas for everyone, and the author gave us his diagnosis in two unforgettable lines: his heart was two sizes too small. I used to think that was a fairy tale problem. I’m no longer so sure.
As James Garfield once wrote, “If wrinkles must be written upon our brows, let them not be written upon the heart. The spirit should never grow old.” I once taped that one to my bathroom mirror. Other mornings I need something stronger — like coffee and a good conversation with someone half my age.
Let’s try new experiences. How long has it been since we tried something new? When we arrive at a restaurant, do we grab the menu and immediately hunt for our usual order — the same steak, cooked the same way, with the same baked potato we’ve been ordering since 1987? Why not try the taco? The Thai curry? The thing on the menu that makes me say, “What is that?”
Locking into the same choices can be a very limiting experience — gastronomically and otherwise.
The same goes for clothes, hairstyles, ideas, and the things we read. Do we read the same publications that simply echo our own views back to us? A flexible, growing person reads as many viewpoints as possible before forming opinions. As Henry Ford observed, “Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty. Anyone who keeps learning stays young.” I want to stay young. So I keep reading things that make me uncomfortable, challenge my assumptions, and occasionally make me say, “Huh. I never thought of it that way.”
Growing involves risk-taking, and risk-taking involves failure. This is especially true when investing in the stock market. We know this. Yet somehow we teach our children — and remind ourselves — that self-worth lives in achievement. It doesn’t. It never has.
I often see people strangled by what I call the achievement syndrome. They have no time to ask “Who am I?” or “How do I actually feel about this?” because they’re too busy curating a resume or a reputation.
Here’s my covenant with the people I love: Let’s fail and fail together until we discover a way that works. Betty Friedan said it beautifully: “Aging is not lost youth but a new stage of opportunity and strength.” I’d add — failure is not a loss of self. It is, in fact, the tuition we pay for
We must enjoy the performance, not just the goal. I love Ernest Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea. The old man battled his great marlin for days, finally lashing it to the side of his boat — only to watch sharks strip it to bare bones on the long journey home. He arrived at shore with nothing but a skeleton. Yet his spirit was unbroken. He kept on fishing because he loved it. The journey and the passion matter more than what you bring home.
Walt Disney put it simply: “Laughter is timeless. Imagination has no age. And dreams are forever.”
My favorite people are the ones who, when asked what they plan to do, say, “I’m not sure where I’ll go, but I feel good about my direction.” A friend of mine — nearly my age, still full of surprises — told me recently: “I really don’t know what I’m going to be when I grow up.” She has abandoned her insulated track. She is aggressively curious about life. She lives in the here and now. And she is absolutely electric to be around.
That is the goal. To still be vibrant.
AVOID THE TIME TRAP
Some of us are preoccupied with time and allow clocks to run our entire lives. One of my favorite fictional characters — in a Faulkner novel — breaks a clock to symbolize that time will no longer be his master. We sleep, eat, play, and make love by the clock. What if, instead, we let our inner clocks dictate hunger, laughter, and love?
As John Glenn, the astronaut who flew into orbit at 77 years old, said: “Too many people, when they get old, think that they have to live by the calendar.” Not John Glenn. Not me. Not if I can help it.
We also fool ourselves by living in the future: “I’ll get started on that — maybe tomorrow.” Or in the past: “I’ve always been this way.” Both are traps. We are aware the label we pin on ourselves. Wishing, regretting, and feeling guilty are simply devices to evade the present moment.
The secret is here and now — respecting this present moment, this breath, this ridiculous and beautiful life.
As Abraham Lincoln said, “In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.”
So we watch out for the insulated tracks. Watch out for the two-sizes-too-small heart. We let the daily question be: Where do we grow from here?
The choice, as always, is ours.
About the Author
Nancy Worley Harrison is a senior, new wife, mom, writer living in Stone Mountain, Georgia.
This is her sixth article about mourning and dying motivated by the death of her mom, two sisters, a close neighbor, and her new husband’s former wife.
Worleywords@gmail.com
