This year, I am starting my ninth decade of life. And I am proud of each of them.
More often than not, people in my age look back on their lives.
It’s nothing new. Solon, a Greek lawgiver, and a philosopher, (they all were), divided life into ten seven-years cycles. The last one, between 63 and 70, was created for the lucky ones who lived long enough to complete his blueprint. Then came the time to depart on the ebb tide of death. You didn’t expect to live much longer.
Buddha’s teaching described 5 periods. The last one, death, crowned his eventful life. At the age of 80, he entered the meditative stage and died.
I divided my life into thirty-year trimesters. The first is formative. The second is productive. Third is the time when a person gets to taste the fruits of his or her life. For better or worse.
My father died at the age close to the age I am now. Naturally, for me, it’s a time for reflection. He lived in different times, and under different conditions. He went through hell during WWll, smoked, and his medical care was inadequate. But his, and ours, family life was as perfect, as it could have been. When he passed, my mother held his hand.
So, in my eighties, I look back on my life. How was it? What were the good moments? Which were the bad? What would I change having the opportunity to do so? What would I tell the younger me? Or, if someone asks me?
To be continued.