So Far

The Abundance. What Matters Now.

When I was a young man, it never occurred to me that I would grow older. It is not a thought for the mind of the innocent. But, of course, there comes a time when reality catches up with you. Maybe it is when the first gray hair arrives, or when a knee buckles, or with the purchase of a pair of reading glasses. Now at the age when there are far fewer years in front than behind, I wonder about what it truly means to age. We all face it. That is what The Abundance is about, the natural rhythms of growing older at a time in life when aging is impossible to ignore, which happens to be almost any age on life’s glorious spectrum.  

When I began thinking more seriously about this, more than some fleeting moment after noticing another wrinkle near my temple, the hope was to try to understand the process of what was seen as the unfolding of a life, to consider where one has been and where one is now. I would ask, “How are things going?” a question we frequently ask each other, but this time I would do it through the lens of an older man. It must be a very different answer. After all there is much more to consider looking back than looking forward, simply because there are more days behind me. There’s also another way to ask that question. Let’s add a little something to it. “How are things going, so far?”

Now we are getting somewhere.

If we ask that question when we are sixteen, what a remarkably different meaning it has. If we ask it when we go away to college for the first time, or when we land our first job, well, that, too, is a very different question. Ask it after the birth of a child, the move to a new town, when you are caring for aging parents, when your sibling dies far too young, when your marriage falls apart and you move out of the house, when your son is recovering from a serious accident, and each answer becomes part of a large, continuous spectrum. But ask it again when you are an older man, and you will likely receive a look of high uncertainty.

What on Earth do you mean, so far? Aren’t you already pretty far long?

That is a matter of perspective.

I am not an old man. I don’t state this as a mantra, some positive-thinking baloney. Just simple truth.

Old, what we think of as an “aged” person, according to many American researchers working today, starts at 70. At 64, the age at which I write these words, is not old. It may be an age that’s close to traditional retirement, whatever that has become, but that number is an arbitrary age chosen by actuaries who have calculated social security benefits and pensions, if there are any pensions left any more. Even in today’s medical circles, 70 sounds like a stretch. Eighty, on the other hand—that’s old. It’s got that ring to it. Or maybe 80 is elderly, a far different word with a very different connotation. That well-known champion of geezers, AARP, the American Association of Retired Persons, the club for the retirees insists 74 may be the number that truly signifies old age these days. Depends on who you ask, though, right? Ask your teenage granddaughter what she thinks is old and her answer might be 40, even 30. In my younger days we believed no one over 30 could be trusted, and we sang along with The Who, certain that it would be better to die than to get old. That tune changes when one is closer to the end than the beginning, and when one is scheduling more doctor appointments than dates to the next rock concerts. But in the end, perspective is necessary to understand where each of us stands on the age continuum. What most people don’t want to hear, however, no matter the age, is that horrible phrase: You’re only as old as you feel. Truth is, I’ve felt 80 when I was 30. And I’ve felt 40 when I was 60. For a fleeting afternoon or for several days those feelings, one of body or soul, were absolutely true. But then again, how does one judge a feeling? And how does one determine what 80 is supposed to feel like if you’re not there yet?

This brings us back to those words: So far.

Yes, I am rather far along. But there remains a so far. There is still time. So far implies that the clock continues to tick and that can give what came before some perspective. It suggests that you have considered what and where you have been, and how all of it intertwines and interacts with what is and will be, all that has been difficult, joyous, enlightening, rewarding, surprising, scary, and how in the hell does it all go together?This is why at this time in life, the question makes much sense. 

How are things going, so far?

So, I will keep my notebook and I will write and think and explore along with you—each one of us looking for what matters now.