When I was younger I believed that wisdom
came naturally with old age; that it was a kind of garnish – like the pepper
sauce that comes with steak, or the ketchup that arrives with French fries. It
was something that led to a deeper understanding, and thus happiness (or at
least contentment.)
Nowadays I’m slightly wiser myself. And
I’ve met scores of older adults who are dissatisfied, anxious, and lack what I
consider to be wisdom.
It’s easier to focus on trivial concerns
and dodge the bigger questions. But come to terms with the big questions and
the trivia will take care of itself.
(See proverb 73 for more allegory)
Be honest - how much of your life do you
spend avoiding unpleasantness? If you can even quantify the amount of time you
put into trying to fend off old age, sickness, death, break-ups, or other
heartache, then you’re spending too long on it.
Life is short. We will die, along with
everybody we know. Love does not last forever and always ends in pain. Old age and
illness come soon – sooner than we expect.
Once you can read these truths with
equanimity then something amazing has happened:
you have become free. Every
moment that you used to spend concerned with the future is now a moment with
which you can enjoy the present. You have become wise.
This wisdom takes work. Simply living
doesn’t do the job. Hiding from inevitability is a waste of time. Look again at
the statements above. If you think they’re untrue then ignore them; but if you think they’re true then reflect on
them, turn them around in your mind, give them some space to mature, and see
what happens.
This is not a call to become depressed by
existential angst. It’s a call to embrace the inevitable so that we can relish
each moment of this short – too short – life.
Proverb 73
A
professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him.
When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise
jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the
jar was full. They agreed that it was.
The
professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He
shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf
balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed
it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the
jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the
jar was full. The students responded with an unanimous "yes."
The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the
table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty
space between the sand. The students laughed.
"Now," said the professor as the laughter subsided,
"I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf
balls are the important things--your family, your children, your health, your
friends and your favorite passions--and if everything else was lost and only
they remained, your life would still be full.
The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your
house and your car.
The sand is everything else--the small stuff. "If you put the
sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no room for the
pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time
and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are
important to you.
"Pay attention to the things that are critical to your
happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take
your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to
clean the house and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first--the
things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."
One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee
represented. The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may
seem, there's always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend."