How to Live Confidently Until You Die (Maybe Longer)

‘Tis but a day we sojourn here below,
And all the gain we get is grief and woe,
Then, leaving our life's riddles all unsolved,
And burdened with regrets, we have to go.

The Rubaiyat by Omak Khayyam (c. 1120 C.E.)


Darkness Approaches

How does an aging Boomer find a lifestyle which is both meaningful and enjoyable in the final phase of life? Both Omar Khayyam and the unknown preacher of Ecclesiastes complained about the futility of a life that ends too soon and accomplishes too little. The preacher called life vanity of vanities. “All things are wearisome; more than one can express.”[1]

Why did anyone go to the trouble of hand-copying and preserving such ancient downers? Perhaps cathartic negativity appeals to the human mind because our species has endured wars and rumors of wars throughout history. We Boomers are a fairly cynical generation, the people who snickered as Queen chanted, “Another one bites the dust!” Yet we never felt the lyrics applied to us personally, never suspected the dust-biting was coming our way.


Oh, certainly, everybody knew we were mortal, that nothing was certain but death and taxes. Then the Reagan revolution told us that taxes were optional, and science began to find ways to prolong life…so who knows? We jogged. We watched our weight and took multi-vitamins. We gained weight and fought smoking addiction, not to mention lingering drug relapses here and there. AIDS terrified everyone for a decade or so, then medicine removed the inexorable death sentence from HIV-related illness, and we relaxed into fantasies about immortality once more, even while people continued to die.


But death is coming. It took some people of our generation who should still be here. Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Ricky Nelson, Karen Carpenter, John Lennon, John Denver, Jim Henson, Steve Erwin, my half-brother, Darryl John Carter, the list goes on. Statisticians estimate we’ll all be gone by the 2060s.


My own existential awareness of death looming distant occurred in one of the most youth-centered locales imaginable. I was teaching eighth grade at Spirit Creek Middle School in Hephzibah, Georgia, a few miles southwest of the azalea-splashed city of Augusta, known for the Masters’ golf tournament. Students had gone to Unified Arts and Physical Education, leaving our hallway empty and giving us teacher-time to prepare lessons or play catch-up on the ten million other tasks required in public schools. I remember thinking about the strange silence of that wing of the building. Suddenly, I flashed on the idea that, just as UA/PE happens every day with clockwork regularity, so will I follow my ancestors into the approaching shadows of death. It was an organic realization, not an abstract concept. It wasn’t about death as a subject to be considered; it was about death as an unavoidable event which I must one day experience. Not, “All people are mortal and will one day die,” but rather, “You are mortal; you are going to die. The big dirt nap approaches. Everything will go black, and that will be it. Lights out. Sayonara. Another one bites the dust. You. Die. Gone. Blackness.”


It scared the bejesus out of me. I rushed into the hallway, desperate to see someone alive, wishing my irascible middle schoolers would return from UA/PE, so that some of their immortality would rub off. Of course, it did. Activity spun me away from the brink, and the only panic attack of my life passed into legend. Telling you about it helps, too. Community is a healing experience.


These thoughts are not designed to bum you out, just to make it clear that we are all in this together. Life’s end approaches, and the only question facing us is how shall we live while approaching the still-distant but unavoidable dark wall of death? We may live beyond it. Most great religions insist we do. But we cannot avoid passing through its dark gate.

We’ll begin then with a short list of thoughts about living with confidence and joy until you enter the final darkness which leads to…more light? (More about that later. But relax. I told you this book doesn’t peddle a religious philosophy.) So, before we plunge into the ten paths to wisdom from East and West, here are ten starter ideas from a former middle school teacher.

Ten Starters for the Last Phase of (Mortal) Life

1. Get ready. Make eschatological preparations, then savor every day. You have promises to keep, even after you’re dead. Do the legal stuff, take care of your survivors as best you can, then forget it forever.

2. Get back to school. Go learn stuff, no matter how old you are. Nothing stimulates the brain like learning. Even if it’s online, or offered at your house of worship, or requires home tutoring.

3. Get romantic. I misspoke, above. Something does stimulate the brain like learning. Stay as sexually active as you and the pharmacist can achieve. Keep love alive.

4. Get complaint-free. Find solutions, not villains. Try to live complaint free. Practice positive affirmations. Don’t try to prove you’re right and they’re wrong. There are very few people on this planet who are able to stop in the middle of an argument and say, with sincerity, “You know, I get it now. I am wrong and you are right.” No matter how “right” you may be in some abstract sense, that ain’t gonna happen, dude. Don’t try to find out whose at fault. The blame game is like playing catch with a nuclear hand grenade. No matter where it lands, all players get zapped when it goes off. Give people enough emotional space to turn around, to cross over to your side. Appeal to their humanitarian tendencies. Most people will work with you if approached with a request for help. An old Army sergeant once said to me, “Ask, and ye shall receive. Demand, and you can go fuck yourself.”

5. Get political. Party organizations love people like us. We generally have more discretionary income, more free time to volunteer, and are better educated about the issues than the younger generations.

6. Get theological. Study the great thinkers of your religious tradition and compare them with writers from other faiths or denominations. Knowledge is connectional, and critical analysis of comparative ideas about God, life, and eternity is always appropriate. The objective here is to clarify and explore, not to prove who’s right. Earlier in life, our generation excelled at letting people “do their own thing,” but we lost some of that flexibility in the last decades of the twentieth century. Perhaps this is a good time to pick up Sartre and Heinlein and Jonathan Livingston Seagull once more.

7. Get spiritual. Spirituality is a belief system in action. Pray & meditate; return to church or find a new one. You’re looking at the doorway to eternity, so you might as well see what others have said about the journey. Do something from your religious tradition. (If you’ve never dabbled in spirituality, or haven’t recently, you might be surprised how cool some of them are today!) Try working my Eight Scenes in a Peaceful Life exercise, or do variation on the vision quest.

8. Get comfortable. Work as long as you want, but be prepared to phase down later. Do less as needed. You get to say when “later” occurs. You might never fully retire, and that would be okay, too, if you’re enjoying the work. Or you might hang it up at sixty-two. The choice is yours, based on personal preferences, economic considerations and health issues. Learn to relax without guilt. No matter whether you’re working full time, part-time, or fully retired, playing isn’t sinful, indolent, or unproductive—it’s a vital, brain-saving activity. Enjoy simpler pleasures. Go fish. And playing cards helps, too. Watch sporting events, live and on TV. See good movies, read good books. Cultivate a love for art, music, gardening—anything that takes you out of the humdrum to a higher place.

9. Get creative. Find meaningful creative activities. Write that book, or your memoirs. Get online, or expand your online life.

10. Get them together. It takes a community. Gather with your extended family for meals regularly. Celebrate everything possible, especially holidays. Also, learn to let others do for you. Especially your children.


“Give Peace a Chance…”

Our generation, which produced unsung military heroes and a grassroots anti-war movement, will leave behind a paradoxical legacy of service and rebellion, competence and corruption. Richard M. Nixon was far from an ideal leader, but his rush to infamy began with a rather thoughtful speech at the 1968 Republican Convention. As he accepted the nomination for president, Nixon reached across generations and told Americans to stop shouting and start listening to each other. Most of the television audience had no clue that Nixon would be listening via illegal wiretaps, but the point is well taken regardless of how poorly he followed his own advice.

As I cross the line into senior citizenry status, the last thing I want in the last third of my life is to go around nursing grudges or feeling superiority. I don’t have to agree with people or approve of the choice they make in order to treat everyone with dignity and compassion. Confident living begins with a commitment to center oneself in a life of compassion, because all people are worthy of respect. It is joyful way to live in the last phase of life.

So, if you are ready after sampling some preliminary ideas, let’s get busy learning how to relax, let go, and keep active in the golden years to come. The long autumn of life stretches ahead of us like a color-splashed forest path, extending as far as the mind’s eye can see. Take the hand of someone you love, and let’s all go there together.

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[1] Ecclesiastes 1:2, 8. If you ever want to get seriously depressed, read the first chapter carefully. Had the author been a member of my generation, somebody would have taken him aside and said, “You’re bumming me out, man…”