I’ve always been in a hurry. From the age of nine months, I was on the run, according to my mother. Not in a sporty or graceful way (I’d often bump into things) but in an energetic, let’s get on with things, way. My goals were the guardrails of my time and I set them annually for my career, finances, travels and fitness. They kept me motivated and on track.
That was until 2019. Instead of bubbling with plans, I staggered into the new year feeling weary and disenchanted and unable to commit to a single goal. That didn’t mean I wasn’t busy, especially at work. There was always another cost to drive down or an efficiency to optimise. But the question that kept niggling at me was: “Is this truly what life is about?”
A life that was already more than half over. I knew this, as a friend had helpfully compared its length to a 30cm ruler. Nothing screams urgency like finding yourself already at the 20cm mark of life and feeling clueless. Or perhaps I was overthinking everything and I just needed to knuckle down and work harder. That approach lasted less than three months.
As luck would have it, I bumped into a colleague who was scouting for sign-ups to a course he was co-chairing on conscious ageing – ageing with awareness and intention. I signed up. On the first day, I was introduced to a quote by Carl Jung, showing me another way.
The afternoon of life is just as full of meaning as the morning; only, its meaning and purpose are different.
Despite the Swiss psychoanalyst having died before I was born, his words gave me pause. I took a deep breath and then another. Through a series of exercises, I came to appreciate that the busyness of my years to this point, life’s morning, had been well spent. A husband, a home, a strong résumé and a handful of good friends. The gaps lay in my eulogy. I realised it would be missing a tolerance for embracing other points of view and the courage to explore new opportunities. That was my homework from now on. Filling those gaps was the meaning and purpose of life’s afternoon.
My discovery was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. It meant I had to sever the corporate umbilical cord that had been my lifeline for over 34 years. I was going to reinvent myself. I wanted to write stories.
Before being introduced to Jung’s quote, I never saw myself at 58, returning to being a beginner in a new career. It has been liberating. I’m not contemplating the proverbial slippery slope on the other side of midlife; I see new mountains to climb. I’m no longer inching towards retirement. I’m not even sure if that is in my cards. And I’m no longer racing through life.
Working out my indelible life’s contribution is still a work in progress but a big part of it is living a life to prove that getting older is truly something to aspire to.
And that’s a legacy fit for a eulogy.
