I’ve been having this conversation with my 20 year-old. Looking for ways to guide him into these next 2-3 years of his life. And looking for ways that celebrate who he is. School is not an easy path for him — though he has new excitement about a music program. The jobs he has worked haven’t lit him up. He didn’t stick with them. He is slowly acknowledging that a job does relate to a few more choices — some moola helps with the basics of freedom that he wants.
In a recent parent moment of hoping to say something helpful, I landed on, “your twenties are a time to experiment, to try things, to see what you love, to learn a bit about what you don’t love.” He smiled. Like he was being seen in a way that he wants to be seen. I smiled back, glad to have spoken something honest, and that he could receive (phew).
Well, lately I’ve been thinking a lot about these increments of living. Twenties. Forties. Sixties (which I occupy). Eighties. It’s my search for the bigger, yet more simple story that guides. And, because I’m me, I prosed it. Phew.
If the 20s are for experimenting,
trying things,
learning what you like beyond the context of your parents,
the 40s are then a time to thrive with what you love,
accomplishing things,
and learning through a few rough mistakes or disappointments,
which makes the 60s a time to experiment again,
this time with what is simplified,
and comes from essence,
and then the 80’s, should those happen,
well this is a time to offer kind eldering to the others,
and enjoy a cup of tea reflecting on it all.
Oh yes, the 60s are a time to experiment again —
no longer chasing every possibility,
but choosing with care,
a little more wisely and a little less wildly.
More unhurried now,
lingering, wondering.
And the curiosity — not the slightest bit smaller.
What really matters now?
What’s possible?