No Regrets 90's

A fortieth birthday.

That might not sound particularly significant, but sitting around a Pizza Hut lunch table celebrating a coworker's birthday many years ago,it felt as though my co-worker, Cheryl, was crossing some invisible line.

The cards mocked aging. The gag gifts joked about decline.The laughter was good-natured, but underneath it I heard a message thattroubled me:

Your best years are behind you.

I had a distinct emotional reaction that day – one that Ifirst fought against, then found my own truth. And that truth has been aguiding light for me in deep and meaningful ways.

What stunned me was the sudden shift in the rhetoric. Fortyseemed to mark an age that people mourned, dreaded, and avoided. The jabs aboutaging were pointed. The cards were funny, but snarky. The gag gifts wereclever, but cutting.

It felt less like a celebration and more like a requiem fora life only doomed to decline.

I wanted to send Cheryl a different message – and perhaps itwas more for me than for her. And so, I created my own card with my wishes forher life. I jotted down my ideas on a yellow Post-it note before putting themin the card.

I wished that she might experience:

·      Fantastic 40s

·      Fabulous 50s

·      Superb 60s

·      Sensational 70s

·      Energetic 80s

·      No Regrets 90s

I’m not sure if my message made a whit of difference to Cheryl, but it’s made a lasting impact on me. I still have that yellow Post-it. It no longer sticks to anything, but it sticks with me.

That Post-It note is not merely yellow to me, but pure gold.It’s become a compass for living out my post-40 years in ways that are counterto a culture that sees older women as less valued, less vibrant, and lessvisible.

Living Fully the Age You Are

I’ve vowed not to shrink away as I age. I’ve refused to do all the things women do to be seen as more youthful and therefore more desirable. My hair is greying naturally. My wrinkles are deepening by the moment. Nothing is nipped or tucked or smoothed. (no shade on you, if you choose to do those things)

Celebrating those changes is the theme of this poem by DonnaAshworth. A few of the lines are below…

CHANGE THE WAY YOU SEE

I don’t have crow’s feet,

I have happy, happy memories of laughing with friends untilthe tears flowed.

I don’t have frown lines,

I have the marks of my frustration and confusion, which Ibattled through, smiling in the end.

I am not going grey,

I have shimmering highlights of wisdom, dashed throughout mysilver hair.

I don’t have scars,

I have symbols of the strength I was able to find, when lifegot tough.

I am not just forgetful,

I have a mind so full of stories, memories and moments thereis scarce room to hold much else.

I am not old,

I am blessed, with a life of great length, something noteveryone can say.

I share my age openly (if you are curious, it is 72). And Idon’t see this as an age of decline; instead, I’ve found it is an age of defining.Clarifying what really matters and what doesn’t. Discerning where to spend mytime, energy, and focus.

A Gentle Reminder

The older I get, the more aware I become that aging is aprivilege, not a guarantee.

Sometimes life reminds us of that fact gently. Sometimes itreminds us at 30,000 feet.

My friend Heather, shared a story with me that illustrates this point quite vividly as she recounts an encounter with near death on a flight between NY LaGuardia and Manchester, NH. The plane lost hydraulics. Itwas going down. Preparations were made and people were braced for the crash.Here are Heather’s words on the event:

I was so scared. I always thought that if I were in this situation, I would write myhusband a note telling him I love him. I couldn’t move. I prayed, but Icouldn’t remember the Hail Mary or Our Father even after 16 years of Catholic education. I asked the guy next to me if I could lean my arm against his as weboth had our arms braced against the seat in front of us. We waited.

The flight attendant kept yelling at us - Brace, brace, heads down, stay down,brace brace… She must have said that 100 times. Then we saw runway lights. Theplane touched down and rolled, and rolled, and rolled, and then finallystopped. We were in Hartford, CT.

No onemoved or spoke. The pilot came out of the cockpit and looked like he won aprizefight. He was covered in sweat, hair and glasses askew but he made it. Idrove home and went to bed. I just wanted to sleep and not think about what hadhappened.

More importantly, here is the wisdom that emerged from theincident:

The nextmorning, my husband went to work. I got up and tried to do my 8 AM call, and Icouldn’t do it. I was a mess. I was shaking, crying, anxious. I couldn'tconcentrate.

Dave camehome at lunchtime to check on me, and asked me how he could help. I asked himto talk to me, not from the perspective of my husband, but from the perspectiveof someone who knows what it’s like when you think you are going to die.

You see,Dave was drafted into the Army and served our country in the Vietnam War.He knows what its like to live through an experience where you don’t think youare going to make it.

So I toldhim what happened, and he asked me, “Did you make any promises?” I wasn't surewhat he meant. He said that people who think they are going to die makepromises to God about what they will do, nor not do, if they live through it. Isaid, “No, I didn’t make any promises. It actually didn’t even occur to me.”

He said, “Good,you’ve lived a good life.”

There are times we get jolted into the awareness that we are mere mortals. The close call, like Heather’s. The cancer diagnosis. The loss of a loved one way too soon. Those incidents can remind us that our future is not guaranteed and that every day is precious.

Yet, more often than not, living fully and vibrantly in themoment takes the back seat. We’ll worry about the future tomorrow. And daysturn into weeks and weeks into months. And before you blink twice, you are oneof those people begging for salvation with a promise…

Thinking in Decades

My work yellow Post-It note reminds me of the longertrajectory of my life. In Strategic Obsession, David Webb calls this “thinkingwith a 100-year lens”. He reminds us that time is not promised, it is borrowed.

While it may not mean that you plan to live to be 100(although I do), it is a way of approaching your life with an extendedviewfinder.

Thinking in decades forces you to slow down to ask this question:

Are my actions today building the foundation for the life I want to live and the legacy I want to leave?  

For if I’m going to experience energetic eighties, I need totend to my health in my sixties. If I’m striving for a no-regrets nineties, Imust do the things I desire now, rather than waiting.

Thinking in decades points us toward a life that is aligned.A life with fewer unfinished conversations, fewer deferred dreams, fewerpromises waiting for "someday." A life built for longevity and notspeed. An existence that centers on purpose and legacy rather than expediencyand powering through.

Try This

You don’t have to be hurling toward the ground at 30,000feet to wake up and take stock. Here is a simple, but powerful wake-up call:

1.     Find a tape measure (that you are willing to cutup). The flexible ones used for sewing.

2.     Cut off the number of years you have alreadylived.

a.     For example, if you are fifty years old, cut offfifty inches.

3.     Make your best guess on how long you will liveand cut off the inches higher than that.

a.     For example, if you believe you are going to liveto be 80, make your cut there.

What you have left is a visual representation of what thelife span you anticipate. It may be short, it may be long. Either way, in yourhands is a stark reminder of the decades before you.

My tape measure sits on my desk. Once a year, I snip offanother inch as I finish another year. Which provides me with a chance toreflect and ask deep questions, such as:

·      What do I need to do in this coming year to live a life without regrets?

• What am I postponing that     matters most?
• Who do I need to forgive?
• Who needs to hear "I     love you"?
• What dream still deserves     a chance?
• What would make this year     count?

My Final Thoughts (for today)

The yellow Post-it note I wrote more than thirty years agowas never really about aging. It was about intention. About refusing tosleepwalk through the decades. About claiming my agency in a world that favoredthe young.

About becoming the kind of person who arrives in hernineties not wishing for more time, but grateful for the time she was given.About recalling my decades and seeing that they were indeed:

·      Fantastic forties.

·      Fabulous fifties.

·      Superb sixties.

·      Sensational seventies.

·      Energetic eighties.

And, if I'm fortunate enough to get there, no-regrets nineties.

Not because life will be perfect. But because I chose to befully inhabit the decades gifted to me.

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