The moment you realize time is finite,
your priorities suddenly become astonishingly clear.
At 35,
you’ll attend a networking mixer
where no one remembers anyone’s name
and somehow call this “building community.”
At 75,
you’ll cancel dinner with six people
to spend an evening eating soup
with the one friend
who knows your medical history
and your childhood wounds.
That’s called wisdom.
When you’re young,
time feels renewable.
You spend it recklessly:
- sitting through meetings that should’ve been emails,
- dating people described as “emotionally unavailable but interesting,”
- and pretending to enjoy music festivals
where everyone smells faintly of sunscreen and regret.
Then aging arrives.
Suddenly:
- your dentist has concerns,
- your parents become fragile,
- your knees issue ultimatums,
- and your body starts making sounds
that seem medically impossible.
And weirdly?
You become happier.
Researchers call it the “U-bend” of happiness:
apparently we’re least happy in midlife.
Of course we are.
Midlife is when you’re:
- managing careers,
- losing parents,
- worrying about money,
- wondering if your marriage needs therapy,
- and buying supplements
with names that sound like minor Greek gods.
But later life contains a surprise.
Clarity.
You stop caring about being impressive
and start caring about being present.
You become ruthlessly selective.
At 28, your social circle has 140 people.
At 82,
you have four friends,
one orthopedic pillow,
a favorite bird,
and absolutely no interest
in attending anything called
“an activation.”
As Florida Scott-Maxwell observed,
aging can actually make you more intense.
Which explains why elders:
- yell at televisions,
- develop militant opinions about bird feeders,
- and suddenly decide society is collapsing
because grocery stores moved the mustard aisle.
The strange thing is that aging is supposed to feel like subtraction.
You lose:
- speed,
- collagen,
- hormones,
- friends,
- and the ability to eat spicy food after 8 pm.
But you gain:
- discernment,
- perspective,
- freedom,
- and the radical realization
that most things are not worth your remaining life force.
You stop pretending.
You stop rushing.
You stop reading books you hate
just because you’re already on page 184.
And maybe that’s the great surprise of aging:
The body slowly becomes less reliable
while the soul becomes far less willing
to waste time on bullshit.
As Franz Kafka said:
“Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.”
Although honestly, Kafka probably never had to schedule a colonoscopy.
Which is its own kind of spiritual practice.
-Chip