Life. You know it?
As I sit in the air at around 39 thousand feet, there is a lot of time to think about the last 7 days of bliss in Cancun, the return to a regular schedule and even squeeze in thoughts about my favorite subject — the human race.
Now if you’ve been following me for any length of time, you no doubt have noticed the many references I use to the “human race” in my blogs. I’m a people watcher, not extremely outgoing except when called into action and content to sit in a corner with a drink and take it all in.
There are a lot of people on this planet. A lot of cultures. Religious beliefs. Personalities. And, there is a lot of commonality. While many of us work hard to get away from the typical and sometimes depressing stereotypes that dog us like a pesky mosquito on a hot summer day — the reality is that it’s an uphill battle that gets harder to transverse with each passing moment.
If you were to ask me, I think it all starts around puberty. That’s when we start thinking about shit. Before that, there’s not much thinking. We eat, we sleep, we play…not necessarily in that order but other than the task of going to school for 10 months out of the year, there is very little pressing before we start experiencing those emotions that come with creeping into adult hood.
Then something weird happens and we hit 16 or 17 and think we know every goddam thing there is and our observations at that moment in time are simple: ËVERYONE IS FUCKING WRONG AND WHY CAN’T THEY SEE THAT???
We can’t help it. The rite of passage as we have more time to contemplate things in our world makes us instant know it alls. While our observations lack wisdom, they do have a keen eye and the world is fairly black and white. Nothing to overthink here. There is right and there is wrong and all of that gray area is for old farts that gave up fighting a long time ago.
Yes, yes. We know this isn’t true but when you’re 17 there ain’t nothing a grown up is going to explain to you that will change.your.mind.
Our next big plateau is at that 20 mark. We’ve survived. We’ve officially hit adulthood and seen it all. We spent the past 3 years pushing all the boundaries, breaking as many rules as we felt comfortable with and surviving. This is that time when we’re really having none of it. We’ve officially become experts on all matters of life..and even death. While we many not fully understand it (death that is), we know as much as we need to — it’s nothing to concern ourselves with. Wait until we’re really old…like 30. That’s the death zone. In case you didn’t know.
It’s an interesting place to be for so many reasons. You’re not really interested in anything those coming up behind you have to say because, even though you were only just there — they’re just kids. And those older than you? They missed the boat — obviously. All that time and they have no more answers than you do. All they do is ask questions. Don’t they have any answers?
25–30 is kind of a nadda zone. This is that time, if you haven’t already started, to think about a long term goal. Whatever it may mean — it’s going to cost money and take some planning. Put on your grown up pants. Got that 5 year plan? Well you better figure it out because life is about to pass you…
Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Now you’re on the other side of 30. It’s not what you expect. You get there and there’s no grand reception, no golden rule book and a lot of mixed messages from well meaning friends and family as to what you should have accomplished by this point. Did you buy that house? How many kids you got? What’s in you bank account? Mutual funds? Have you started planning for your eventual demise? Don’t want to leave anyone hanging in the event of your sudden or not so — death.
The 30’s can run a pretty mundane course. You get into your habits. Your daily routines. You’ve got time management down to an art (well most of you) and now you’re officially part of the “I’m just too frikkin busy” club. Sure, there’s 24 hours in a day and you’ve managed to swallow up 10 of those with the job, 2.23 hours with kids (and/or pets) and meal prep. Chores can take up another couple of hours and you’ve now exhausted just over 14 hours of that day. Down time? Maybe it’s some light reading or a reality television show and while you sip on that drink, your lights are dimming and you make your way to the last true refuge of escape — your comfy, or not so, bed.
Fortunately, you’re still young enough that you aren’t resorting to a little help at night so you can get that much needed rest and you wake up and press the reset button — counting down the very minutes until the weekend gets there where, while you’ll be too busy to really enjoy it, is yours. All yours. You relish in this thought that no matter what happens or how it plays out, with some delusional perception — you believe that you are the master of those 48 hours.
40?? HOW THE FUCK AM I 40 YEARS OLD?
Make no mistake. You’re there and, if you’re not sure, all your closest friends are throwing you a party to make sure you don’t forget. It’s another rite of passage. You’ve survived the hardest of it and now, it’s time to celebrate all the neat changes that are coming.
Losing your hair, weight gain, fatigue, chronic pain, insomnia, hair that grows from places nobody could have ever imagined was possible. There’s the constant weddings, the repeated funerals, the separations, divorces and your friend that finally decided to come out after 20 years of hiding. This is about that time you’ll start rethinking your career choices. Granted, this doesn’t apply to everyone but at some point, that little voice starts nagging and the questions come: “why didn’t I travel more, read more, take more risks, meet more people…” The premise of course with those dying around you is that your are finitely mortal and the cursed death anxiety starts to creep in.
Yes, we all have it. The ponderous, heavy thoughts that lead towards the hereafter. Everyone deals with this differently and, if you’ve lived long enough you start seeing it play out with your friends. It might be alcohol, drugs, prescriptions or it could be a change in lifestyle. Maybe you’ll have an affair, jump out of a plane or become addicted to 1 to 2 hours of ritual exercise every single day. The idea is to fill up the space so you have less time to think about your eventual demise.
It’s hard to picture when you’re in your 40’s - so we pretend not to or we divert. We may even do this while planning for it (death)with a little more life insurance, locking up that last will and testament and putting most of our affairs in order — but the denial is strong and we plod through the next 10 years finding ways to escape those dark and heavy thoughts.
You think 50 is a big number but it really isn’t. It’s just 40 morphing into and the best part of it is the big celebration. By now, you’ve been to your fair share of funerals. So much so that you literally find yourself asking if a condolence card will do in place of attendance. I kid you not. You split your time wisely among your closest friends understanding that some of those friends used to be couples and now are not or, are new and improved couples? Your matriarchal designation changes as well as most kids will view you in the grandparent hemisphere whether you’re there or not. You, in the eyes of the wee ones have officially hit “really, really old person” status. Which means the expectations have started to diminish.
There’s little chance to relate because your music is old, your clothes are old and hey, you even have this new thing called old people smell. Yup, it’s a thing.
There’s no difference though. Physically that is. You feel the same. Pretty much look the same but the way people view you shifts. Now maybe it’s my 2 year stint into this generation but I feel like my age gets me a pass. I get away with saying what’s on my mind waaaaay more than I used to. I don’t get the call to go out on late night benders like I did when I was 49 and sir just becomes a part of the conversation in any place where service is coming at the hands of someone my junior.
This is probably where my story should stop as I’m 52 and there’s no crystal ball to show me what’s coming up next. The whole death thing? It becomes less of a thing. Half a century is a pretty good investment into this mortal coil and I’m putting more of my effort into living. I spend less time apologizing, less time settling — saying no is incredibly effortless and if I don’t like you — I’ll state it in as matter of fact fashion as I can. I’ll try not to hurt your feelings but honestly, these precious hours, days and years belong to me and I’ll spend them and invest them where it seems fitting.
One thing I know for certain — after spending 7 days at a resort and observing those my senior just going on what looks like a continuous loop — I’m going to try my best to do more than just survive, just exist, just wait in limbo. I saw a window into the life of one such person and they aren’t even aware they’re stuck in that loop. Maybe that’s ok, for them. They say ignorance is bliss.
Bliss for me is continuing to push boundaries, continue asking questions (no matter how annoying) and most importantly — DANCE LIKE NOBODY IS WATCHING.
I’ll have plenty of time to settle when I’m dead.
