FATHER time has a funny way of humbling us. Whereas before when the skin and muscles were as taut as leather, they are now loose and flabby. What was once jet-black hair has given way to white, peppery strands that are too far in between. Reading is akin to looking through a stained-glass window. Going up a flight of stairs feels like a marathon.
Advancing age makes the body and mind dissonant; what the mind thinks, the body most often doesn’t follow. Doing a routine chore that took us a few minutes to finish now requires double the time and effort. Feats of strength and agility in the younger days have given way to slow, measured movements to avoid the risk of serious physical injury.
Our youth gave us a feeling of invincibility that sometimes bordered on recklessness, a sense that we were capable of accomplishing anything that we set our minds and hearts to do. As we got older, we realized that lofty goals must always be grounded in present-day realities. Our plans should be backed-up by deliberate, purpose-driven action.
As young professionals, most of our waking hours were dictated by the dogged pursuit of our careers. Client calls, business trips and coaching sessions filled up our calendar. Later on, we realized that it was okay to turn down an international seminar or a speaking engagement and instead spend the time with the family on a quiet, out-of-town vacation.
In our younger days, most of us didn’t seem to care too much about the world we lived in. Our attention was primarily focused on the basics: landing a good-paying job, getting concert tickets and working out. Today, we closely monitor global events as they unfold – wars, market movements and policy shifts – to gauge how these developments would impact us.
Having hit the half century mark two years ago, I have accepted the fact that Father Time has finally caught up on me. At first, this realization was unsettling as it forced me to confront my mortality. However, this moment was also cathartic, as it gave me a greater sense of self-awareness and allowed me to view and do things from a newfound perspective.
As the body is no longer as robust as before, I now try to do things at a slower but steadier pace. As I can no longer do the marathon 4-5-hour writing sessions at night, I have learned to break tasks into 30-45-minute chunks spread across the day. This approach has allowed me to pace myself and do more focused work without sacrificing quality.
I have also rekindled my passion for toy and book collecting which I had to temporarily set aside due to my workload. My son and I scour the web at night looking for good finds that we can add to our toy collection. Recently, we’ve made quite a number of purchases which have not made the missus exactly happy but strengthened the bond between my son and me.
My wife and I have also found more time to attend to our growing brood of fur babies who, as of my last count, are now 14. Taking care of them has been therapeutic for both of us who have gone through challenging times over the years. Through our pets, we have learned that being vulnerable is not a sign of weakness but an opportunity for others to help, heal and love.
And as I monitor the day’s headlines, which have been dominated by updates on the Iran war that is spreading across the Middle East, I now listen less to the prophets of doom who predict nuclear Armageddon and focus more of my attention on how I can help sustain and build on the gains of peace in our country.
But the most important thing that Father Time has taught me is to spend quality time with the people we hold dear. Despite the hustle and bustle of daily life, there are still pockets of time we can use to have an intimate dinner with our better half, help our children with their assignments, or lend a hand to a struggling colleague.
These are the moments that will be etched in our hearts and minds, and frozen in time forever.