Reunion Reflections

Today I flew to Newark en route to my 30th Princeton reunion.   On the plane I sat across from a man from the class of '57.  How did I know this?  He was wearing a black and orange blazer with little '57 emblems all over it, and an orange sweater underneath.  I can hardly wait to see what my class's "uniform" for this reunion will be - registration starts in a couple hours so I won't have to wait long!  Here are some of my classmates in our 25th reunion jacket:  

 

So during the flight I read Oprah magazine and the June issue is all about aging.  More than a dozen women aged 13 to 64 provide their reflections on aging, emphasizing the joys of their current age, no matter the number.  An essay by novelist Jane Smiley was particularly enjoyable and thought-provoking for me.  She starts by describing a train ride in the UK where the passengers all appear to be decades younger than she, and while she suspects that they regard her simply as an uninteresting older woman ready to retire, in fact her mind is "full of memories that are as real to me as the present:  I am 64, but also 40, 35, and 26."  (Why she assumes that negative judgment from her co-passengers could be a topic for another post!)

As I fetched my rental car and drove the hour or so to campus, serenaded by the local public radio jazz station, I related directly to Ms. Smiley's reflection, accessing my own memories of Princeton - at 18 and arriving for my freshman year from Fargo, ND; at 21 and graduating triumphantly; in my 40's and traveling to Princeton several times for business (staying at the iconic Nassau Inn and eating much better than I did as a student!); and of course my reunion trips - at 41 for my 20th, at 46 when I brought my sons to my 25th, and now at 51 for my 30th.  And the best part is that the memories don't just stand alone - I have more ability to see them in context, to perceive patterns and derive meaning, to have more compassion for the self that I was at all of those times and that I am now, and to joyfully anticipate reuniting with friends over the next few days.

Ms. Smiley goes on to share that a woman older than she once told her that when she turned 35, her "life would change from a river to a lake, shifting from a constant forward flow to a wider exploration."  I love that image and think that it contains great wisdom.  It made me imagine that the condition of and our experience of our lake might vary depending on our situation and present ability to deal with it.  In hard times it might feel as if our lake is suddenly full of whitecaps and we're struggling to stay afloat.  At other times we may feel that we're treading water doggedly, or perhaps floating or bobbing more lightheartedly, even blissfully.  When we are in a period of exciting transition or progress, it may feel as if we're slalom water skiing, leaning in and creating a gorgeous spray.

We are always connected to our past and anticipating our future, yet of course all we have is the present moment, which slips continually into the past.  We do well when we productively integrate our past and mindfully experience our now, opening and connecting both inwardly and outwardly.  And of course we are not alone - we profoundly affect and are profoundly affected by the people and places and situations around us all the time, too.   Everyone and everything affects our "lake" and vice versa.  Whether I am interacting with family, friends, colleagues, clients, or even people-watching as I've been doing in this funky coffee shop over the past couple of hours, I am awed and humbled to consider each one's uniquely complex history, current consciousness, and potential.  I am grateful for this moment, I am grateful for connection (it's my word for 2014 in fact – for more info, click this Gretchen Rubin link: http://tinyurl.com/jvus59o), and I can't wait to see my old roommates and friends tonight! 

Diving Back In

I’m at my mom’s in Juno Beach, Florida, for a couple days this week, and this morning we took a walk along the beautiful beach.  All bodies of water are different colors and the ocean here is an amazing blue-green, perhaps best described as aquamarine, which Wikipedia defines as a shade between green and blue and clear.  See, for example, the lovely uncut aquamarines below:    

 

Anyway, I was wearing my bathing suit and the morning sun was very warm, so I decided to take a little swim before going back inside.  Every body of water has different tides and weather and wind conditions too, and the waves today were a few feet high, breaking at an angle toward the beach, and kind of irregular.  These were not dangerous conditions by any means but I couldn’t help flashing back to my very scary swim in Mexico late last year – that’s the last time I’d actually swum in an ocean – and that particular body of water was truly not fit for swimming, as I described in my January post titled Bonus Hours.

This morning, though, I was reassured that there were quite a few people around – some fishermen nearby and other morning walkers enjoying themselves as they browsed for shells.  So in I went, cautiously and slowly, standing waist-deep waiting for one of the big waves to pass in order to swim out during the approach of the several smaller ones that followed.  And it was lovely.  I floated, swam a bit, opened my eyes underwater (beautiful aquamarine world!), and the whole time kept an eye on my colorful towel lying on the beach in order to monitor my distance and drift.  It was not a long swim but it was an important one.  And as I negotiated the waves to get back out of the water I realized that my heart was pounding hard. 

The experience made me think about how important it is to move forward from disappointing or negative experiences with a constructive and optimistic attitude, in a way that doesn’t close doors or eliminate options but rather educates and empowers us to take on similar and even bigger challenges in the future.  This can mean diving back into the waves, skiing the double-blacks with your 18 year-old, calling a client prospect just one more time, bringing up a difficult topic with a loved one vs. avoiding the conversation, taking the lead on connecting with relatives or friends or colleagues, being a proactive parent.  It means putting yourself out there and imagining bigger.   Not the most natural posture for someone who tends toward introversion, like me, but over the years I’ve decided that I prefer it to the alternative. 

Daniel Pink, in his recent book, To Sell is Human, contrasts saying Yes with saying No.  They each have benefits and drawbacks.  Saying “Yes” provides adventure, while saying “No” provides safety – both positives.  However, lots of yeses tend to lead to opening and growth (along with uncertainty), while lots of nos may lead to more control and predictability, but also a smaller personal world.