When I think about beginning a new year, the snapshot in my memory that always pops into view is the one from long ago: Father Time—long white beard, bent with age, and a sash with the new year’s date on it. That snapshot is black and white, so I know it is truly old, perhaps from the newspaper.
My family has been blessed with no losses this past year. Now, my brothers and I are officially the last generation of my family line. This past year, we have celebrated the births of two new babies—two new nephews for me! After Christmas, my brother invited us over for dinner with his two daughters, who now have three children each, all under five years old. The word to describe the activity was surely “chaos.” As my brother and I laughed about the noise, we also longingly talked about looking forward to having all six of his grandchildren together with my two grandchildren. If six create chaos, what will eight do?
I was fortunate to spend time with a mentor of mine, Robert Johnson, a Jungian analyst and author. The Jungian understanding of life is that it comes in three distinct stages. Robert, then quite advanced in age, spoke consciously about entering the fourth stage: actively preparing for the end of his life.
My experience is that most of us do not prepare for the end of life. We all know it is coming, but we pretend it is not. I had one of those realization moments recently when I was discussing buying a new car. During the conversation, I realized that this could be the last car I buy. To put a timeline on it: I am 76. I usually drive a car for about 15 years. That takes me to 90, at which point I want to stop driving. (I may not stop, but from this perspective, it sounds like a good idea.) That thought quickly jumped to: by that time, I will likely be living at Kirkwood and will neither want nor need to be driving.
Of course, life comes at us fast. Life changes in an instant. My plans may not come to fruition, but that does not mean I stop thinking about or planning for the future. Certainly, one aspect of my future—and yours—is that this earthly life will end.
To live consciously with this knowledge does not mean being morose in the meantime. Quite the opposite! I choose to live every day celebrating the gift of life I enjoy. That includes the chaos of grandchildren, the excitement of a potential new car, and the grief of saying goodbye to old friends and loved ones. All of that and more is what makes up the gift of this life. A gift to be celebrated in this New Year and every day.
Peace.
