Examples

                After retiring, I wondered what it was I was supposed to be doing.  When I was teaching, it seemed like I was contributing something small but tangible to the struggle for a better world.  Absent that, it was unclear to me what I could contribute.  I like the freedom of reading and thinking what I want instead of having other people dictate what I have to respond to.  I like spending more time talking and hanging out with the people I choose to instead having to interact with people I really didn’t care much about.  I liked being retired, but I still wondered what I should be doing. 

                Working my way through the idea of deep epistemology has helped me reframe that question somewhat.  I no longer think of it as what I should do, but how I should be.  At this point, it seems to me that like older men in some Buddhist traditions, my true goal is to work on myself, not for any reward or external affirmation, but because the benefit of age is reflection.  In my working life, my mental reflexes were too amped up to be truly reflective.  Like most men growing up in this culture, I was set on solving problems and doing battle with those who opposed the way I saw the world.  There was never a shortage of either of those provocations.  I judged my contributions to the situation by winning and exerting control.  I suppose that is what youth demands – or at least my youth demanded it.  I tried not to be a complete jerk, and, in my telling of it, at least, my battles were mostly trying to speak truth to power and injustice.  Power and injustice always seemed to win.

                From the perspective of retirement and deep epistemology, I see things differently.  I can be calmer now than I was before.  I still care as deeply about the outcomes, but they aren’t really my outcomes anymore.  Accepting my age means accepting a different role.  I think people who still want to direct things in their 70’s and 80’s are missing the point, not because they don’t “get it,” but because they are wasting their hard earned perspective on moment to moment chaos.  (Of course, it helps that nobody really cares what I think anymore).  Reflection is so lacking in this culture, where the pressure is to act and react instantly.  The way I see it now, our job – or at least my job – is to be an example of virtuous and mindful action.  I want to set aside being clever and aggressive for the opportunity to learn how to be an example of the things I always said I believed in.

                In cultures that have some sense of filial piety, they value age for the perspective, perhaps even the wisdom, it brings.  At the very least, we should be in a position to reflect on what we’ve seen and done instead of just reacting to the next stimulus in an endless stream of new stimuli.  One of the cultural consequences of deracinated and disembodied consciousness is that we lose our sense of mortality – not in some mawkish or fatalistic sense, but as the grounds of our being in the world.  Time is only meaningful to living things.  The gift that time bestows on us is to see what is important and what isn’t.  It is important that we reconnect to our bodies and the rest of the living universe. 

                I don’t plan on being a good example all the time, nor do I expect to overcome my rash and impulsive nature.  Cut in front of me in line and I’ll give you a demonstration.  But I can be an example of becoming to those who care or want to notice.  I can’t open a web site to market it or make money off it, but I can make this phase of my life richer.  Maybe I can help as part of a larger conversation about how we reimagine democracy and virtue.  I can at least listen and wait for a pause in the action for a chance to share what I know.  If that doesn’t happen, I can wait some more.  When I was a kid, I wanted to be a wizard.  That ain’t happening, but the disguise of wizards is often playing the role of an old fool. I’ve got that one down.