Fruits are most welcome when almost over; youth is most charming at its close; the last drink delights the toper—the glass which souses him and puts the finishing touch on his drunkenness. Each pleasure reserves to the end the greatest delights which it contains.
Life is most delightful when it is on the downward slope, but has not yet reached the abrupt decline. And I myself believe that the period which stands, so to speak, on the edge of the roof, possesses pleasures of its own.
Or else the very fact of our not wanting pleasures has taken the place of the pleasures themselves. How comforting it is to have tired out one's appetites, and to have done with them!
“But,” you say, “it is a nuisance to be looking death in the face!”
Death, however, should be looked in the face by young and old alike. We are not summoned according to our rating on the censor's list. Moreover, no one is so old that it would be improper for him to hope for another day of existence. And one day, mind you, is a stage on life's journey.
Though I am pleased to come across some notable exceptions, I usually feel as if I am surrounded by a cult of youth. Even when I myself was younger, and it was easier to get swept along with it, the steady worship of brash vitality never quite sat right with me.
Here we were, glorifying in our noise, consumption, and gratification, and we thoughtlessly dismissed those who had been refined and tempered by their years.
Just as everything in this world has its rightful place, so every age of our existence serves a certain purpose, offering its own distinct set of blessings and burdens.
Yes, there is something liberating in the enthusiasm of growing up, even as it is frustrated by the lack of insight to harness it well. Yes, there is something serene in the hindsight of winding down, even as it is hampered by always being out of breath.
Aging need not be a curse, if only we understand it within the deeper and richer context of human nature. As Seneca says, the trick is in knowing how to use it.
There is a certain excitement in beginnings, and also a certain serenity in endings. There is the thrill of the chase, and then the satisfaction of a job well done. The struggle to win something is followed by being at peace with the victory.
In one sense, the running about we do in youth can be driven by a frantic urge to acquire, and yet old age offers the opportunity to no longer be ruled by such longing, to find contentment in being at rest.
I recently had an odd epiphany of sorts, where I was taking a moment alone to recharge my batteries, and my mind drifted to the bigger picture. Have I done all that I wanted to do in my life? Hardly, but part of that path involved learning that I didn’t need most of those things to begin with.
Am I satisfied with what I now have? It came to me that, for all the things I might prefer, I find myself with everything that is necessary to be happy. It isn’t much by most people’s standards, but it is more than enough for me.
What remains is coming to appreciate most fully what is already on my plate. As much work as might still be done on the inside, nothing more needs to be added from the outside.
Increasing age can be a sort of reward if I learn to live my life in that way, though it can just as easily become a curse if I refuse to heed the lesson. Then I will merely go from being a grasping young man to being a bitter old man.
Maybe the relief is precisely in not being a slave to desire, in not wanting anything at all beyond my own immediate peace of mind. It is like the sigh upon finishing a hearty meal, or the harvesting of that perfectly ripened fruit.
Won’t the fear of dying get in the way? It will only do so if I have left something essential undone, if I have neglected those many chances to live with understanding and love. When I feel that the moment is disappointing, and I am aching for something else, it means that I was asleep during class.
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