Age of Wisdom

There seems to be great freedom that comes with age. A year ago, I read an article suggesting that those in their 60s and 70s were the most content and happy. This is fascinating.

I remember a gentleman walking the neighborhood around my boy’s school. I would always notice him and watch him. In some ways, I marveled at the possibility of being like him one day. He was always alone and walked at a very slow pace with his cane and cigar. He never said a word; instead, he just observed. Plus, he had a very cool hat that he would wear during the colder months.

What was it about him? That age? That contentment?

There is something to be said about being retired and not having the same responsibilities as one might have in one’s younger years. The craziness of daily schedules with kids and work certainly affects our peace and tranquility. That said, there might also be something more: inner freedom and contentment that is open to all of us.

Hopefully, with age comes wisdom—a pearl of wisdom you can’t acquire without living—or, more so, paying attention to living.

To me, wisdom is more about observing than actively learning. It’s about going inward rather than staying outward. It’s about doing the real work of life, which is seeing yourself as you are, not as you wish you were.

It’s freedom.

Yet, as they say, freedom doesn’t come free.

The work of seeing yourself from the inside is excruciating. Sometimes, it takes the mid-life thing to kickstart the real work of life. In other words, life has a way of forcing us to look at ourselves truthfully.

Seeing yourself as the complete mess you are for the first time is scary. Especially when you have all of the cultural boxes checked off. You are considered to be a nice person. You go to church. You exercise and look suitable for your age. You have the house. You have the cars. You have the wardrobe. And, of course, you have social media accounts to highlight all these things. Then comes that moment when it doesn’t seem to work anymore, and life feels like it is crushing you from the outside inward. You physically can’t breathe, and your mind feels foggy. You feel completely exposed. Naked. Yet everyone around you still sees the same person they always did.

It took a wise man in his sixties to help me begin to see the truth. I will never forget him sitting so calmly across from me as I exposed my innermost messiness to him. After an hour of me unloading my fears and shortcomings, feeling completely vulnerable, he finally responded with a question: “How old are you?” “36,” I said. He said, ” Oh, I was 37,” with a smirk.

Although it took years of serious inner work, which is still ongoing, that moment was the moment I first experienced freedom—the freedom of knowing the game was up. I was a mess, but I saw it, and it was okay. Such grace.

This kind of discovery is life-changing because it allows you to stop comparing your inner messiness to other people’s outer “togetherness.” We all are messy, and that’s ok. Besides, that’s where true communion is possible.

It also allows you to enjoy life a bit too. The house, the car, the vacations, the wardrobe, all that stuff that doesn’t matter much can be enjoyed for what they are—stuff to be enjoyed. Whether you have it and want to post it on social media or not, it doesn’t matter much. The big deal is the freedom that comes when you begin to see yourself as you are and be ok with it. Oh, and you also realize that the self-help stuff is ok, too, but you need a Savior.

I might hold off on the cane for a while, but that stroll with a cigar, sporting a cool hat, sounds perfect. Enjoying life, observing, and feeling free.