Mid-Life Thoughts on Finitude, Part 1



Main Course

Mid-Life Thoughts on Finitude, Part 1

Speaking of zooming in…

A few months ago, my husband and I took a two-part trip, which I now label in my mind as the “In My Middle-Age Feelings” trip. Part One involved travel to Florida to visit my parents in the assisted living facility that they relocated to half a year prior. My mom, following a series of falls, had recently shifted from living in an apartment with my stepdad to becoming a resident in the facility’s memory care unit. It was sobering to see how much more frail she was since I saw her last, and how much smaller her world had become.

Several days later, we embarked on Part Two, flying north to visit our two college-age sons, each of whom was in the midst of spring semester studies and explorations. Our younger son was spending his first spring in Philadelphia, a city where we once lived ourselves. While he was in class, we strolled his campus; later in the evening, he took us to a rooftop park, giving us a novel view of a familiar city—through his eyes and experiences as a college freshman:

Our older son was farther afield, studying abroad in England. For several days, he introduced us to brand-new sights, sounds, and tastes of the town that he claimed as his temporary home:

Returning back home to Hawaii, I kept thinking about how bittersweet the trip felt for me. The juxtaposition of seeing my mom, clearly in decline and continuing to slide towards the end of life, and seeing our sons, the leaves of their young adulthood unfurling to capture sunlight, made me feel acutely in-the-middle.

Now, the state of being “in the middle” doesn’t generally get good press. Being “caught in the middle,” navigating the “messy middle,” experiencing a mid-life crisis—all of these have negative connotations. Heck, even being the middle child in a family carries baggage in our popular imagination.

The author Susan Cain recently wrote a Substack piece titled, “Are You in the Second Half of Life?” Part of the challenge of being in this middle-ish stage of life, she noted, is that it arrives without the clear goals that accompany early adulthood and old age. What, then, are our tasks once we find ourselves in this part of the journey? Cain shares these thoughts:

In the second half of life, the task is to trade ambition for wisdom, noise for quiet, certainty for mystery…
We shift from doing to being; we move beyond what the Christian mystic Richard Rohr calls the “tower of success,” to seek wisdom, purpose, and service…
We see our relationships shift, moving toward fewer but deeper connections…
And though we’re not yet facing death, we begin to live with an *awareness* of mortality—which causes us to gaze at the world with more appreciation, with what the novelist James Salter called “one long passionate look, and all that had been withheld would finally be given.”


This heightened awareness of my mortality—of our collective finitude—has certainly adjusted my gaze. Over the past few months, thinking about occupying this middle space of life has been a curious gift. Rather than feeling sad, the ability to pause and look ahead and behind in time has felt strangely liberating. I feel a greater clarity of priorities. The relationships I prize most have come into sharper focus. I feel more prepared to let certain things go. Saying “no” is becoming easier than it was in years past, because I can see that those noes pave the way for more meaningful yeses. I guess I needed to live long enough to understand that this isn’t just a pithy aphorism, but a living truth.

Am I good at always acting in alignment with this new awareness? Not really, but I’m getting better at it. And as a friend of mine often says, “it’s a practice, not a perfect.”


I came across an unfamiliar term the other day: senescence, which refers to the process of deterioration with age. I happened across the word while reading about stages of leaf development; in this context, Google’s AI overview helpfully described senescence this way:

The leaf stage before it detaches and falls is called senescence. This is the aging process during which the leaf deteriorates, and the plant reabsorbs valuable nutrients back into its main body for storage… Triggered by shorter days and cooler temperatures, the leaf’s metabolism slows down. The green pigment, chlorophyll, is broken down, revealing the yellow and orange pigments (carotenoids) that were already present in the leaf.

It’s humbling, realizing how much I have in common with a leaf! My metabolism has slowed, the days ahead of me are shorter, and goodness knows my body is stubbornly trying to “store” whatever nutrients come its way these days, lol. But there’s something beautiful about knowing that as the green of life subsides, the process makes way for the vibrant yellows and oranges—which have been hidden and existed all along—to emerge.


Whatever stage of life you’re in—and especially if you are in the second half of life—what are you noticing, observing, listening to differently than before? What do you see as your task in this part of life? How is your awareness of finitude shaping your actions?

I invite you to hit "reply" and send me your thoughts.

I may share some of your replies in my next newsletter. Looking forward to hearing what's been on your mind!


Quick Bites

Screen grab from The Late Show with Stephen Colbert

"It is exhausting... to try to carpe diem the crap out of every moment."

Writer Suleika Jaouad believes that the suggestion to live every day like it's your last is terrible advice. What does she advocate instead? Take a listen.


The dragon fruit cactus is a type of night-blooming cactus, its ephemeral blossom opening at night and wilting by the next morning. My husband and I, after days of anticipation at the growing bud, were treated to this glorious specimen on a walk on a warm June evening. Knowing the blossom would be gone by morning encouraged us to linger over it just a few moments longer.


Something Sweet

A note of gratitude to those of you who replied to my last newsletter, or had coffee with me, or bumped into me around town, and said, “Hey, I completely relate to what you expressed—thanks for putting it into words.” Knowing that I haven’t been alone in my recent disoriented feelings with the world has been comforting and reassuring.

As part of that newsletter, I asked you to share where you are finding hope in this current moment. A number of you replied to note not only things that are giving you hope, but also things that are giving you bursts of joy, levity, and lightness. Some mentioned the comfort provided by the outdoors. Kaʻiu O. said she finds joy in her dog, beach walks, small conversations, and food she enjoys; Lauren B. described finding grounding in spending time outdoors in her garden and in making new friends.

Ben T. finds hope in the motto of the Hawaiʻi Council for the Humanities: Nā mana wai pio ʻole e hoʻōla ana i ka ʻāina. The many inextinguishable sources of water make the land live.

Laughter, as they say, is good medicine. Stuart C. shared, “I find comfort in watching The Late Show and Colbert's funny and insightful commentaries, which allow me to laugh at the Administration's insanity while also understanding the causes and potential remedies.”

Chelsey C. also finds laughter a source of comfort, and mentioned that she recently started following @livefromsnacktime on Instagram: "They post the silly things toddlers say when enjoying their favorite time of day. One that made me laugh out loud read, 'Cheese makes me feel better when I’m having a big emotions day.' – Magnus, 4 years old. Truly spot on, Magnus!"

And so, on Magnus' suggestion, I offer you this platter of cheese, since we are probably all having big emotions days lately. Enjoy!


With warmth and aloha,

Joyce

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Something to Chew On

Something to Chew On is a newsletter I’ve cooked up to share some of my ruminations and marinations with family, friends, and colleagues. More importantly, though, it’s meant as an invitation to (re)connect, reflect, and be in conversation, at a pace that works with all the goings-on in everyone’s lives. New issues will go out about once every month or two. Happy reading!

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