Optimism
I consider it part of my job to have a deep familiarity with current research on aging, from physiological, psychological, spiritual, and social perspectives. Lately I’ve been going down the rabbit hole of longevity. It’s a particularly hot topic in Silicon Valley among the tech bros. Sifting through the hype to find the actual science isn’t always easy.
Based on some anecdotal conversations, the mere mention of the idea can illicit an emotional response. “I don’t want to live that long,” several people told me, without even establishing how long that long is. Books like The Blue Zones give us insights into communities around the world where centenarians are fairly common. As a ballpark number, many use the age of 85 and beyond as the benchmark of exceptional longevity, although there are many who believe living to 120 and beyond is within our reach.
I think the aversion for some could be the mental models we hold of what old age looks like. If our expectation is that steep declines in physical health, mental acuity, and social relevance are inevitable, I can understand why some might say “no thanks.” If your family history includes examples of aging relatives who had dementia, or who became burdensome to other family members, I agree that living longer doesn’t sound enticing.
But that’s not my mental model.
I see the growing consensus around what leads to longer life spans as a means to extend the best years of my life, not to simply tack on more sad, lonely years at the end. There is growing evidence that we can, to some degree, actually reverse the physiological indicators of aging.
I fully intend and expect to be physically fit, mentally sharp, and socially relevant long after the rest of my age group cohort are parked in their rocking chairs watching Wheel of Fortune. Whether I achieve that or not is yet to be determined.
Obviously, there are many circumstances over which I have little control. Everyone dies. Every time I get on my bike, I’m one distracted driver away from the Big Adios. The longer we live, the higher the likelihood of contracting a fatal illness–at least that’s the conventional line of thought.
But I do have control those most basic habits that contribute to a longer healthy life span—commitments to staying fit, eating a mostly plant-based diet, consistent, sufficient sleep, etc.
Increasingly, there is a psychological attribute included in this list of healthy physiological practices—optimism. I think of optimism as the expectation that:
• There are many enjoyable and meaningful experiences yet in store for me
• I will make a significant impact in the future
• I still have some control over my destiny
It’s the opposite of the victim mentality—the belief that happiness and significance are out of my hands. I hear this almost daily from my peers, especially on social media.
“The world is going to hell in a handbasket. Why would I want to stick around?”
“My dad died at 60. I don’t stand a chance.”
“I was fired two years ago and can’t find another job. No one wants an old fart like me.”
For many people the stereotypes of older adults play off this pessimism. Is it common that we all turn into grumpy old men and women as we age? Perhaps. But is it a requirement? Absolutely not.
I have not always had a predisposition toward optimism. On my paternal side, I am descended from a long, proud line of cranky, stubborn, bitter old men. And to be honest, their example alone has been reason enough to choose a different path.
But I also have the example of my maternal grandfather, who lived an active, meaningful life well into his nineties. As I reflect on his life, I realize he may have been the most optimistic person I’ve known personally.
In their old neighborhood, he was the last man standing. Once a week or so, he’d pick up his toolbox and a ladder, and make the rounds, changing light bulbs, fixing leaky faucets and such for the elderly widow neighbors. My grandma would always announce, “He’s off to see his girlfriends again.” He served others, not as a duty but as a lifestyle.
Their life had quite difficult. Events such as the Depression, World War II, burying a child, and relentless rural poverty had taken a toll. They lived in what might generously be described as a shack on a meager social security check. But he kept active with a huge garden, growing much of the food my grandmother would freeze or can, which they would eat year round. Every spring he announced, “This will be the best garden yet.” He went fishing several times a week, fully expecting that this would be the day he’d catch “the big one.” And he laughed. Often.
He was a packrat, convinced that his junk collections were worth a lot of money. As a kid I was fascinated to watch him eat. No matter how simple the meal was, he ate slowly and savored every bite as if he were in the finest restaurant, thanking Grandma for her wonderful cooking.
There are examples throughout life that changing our circumstances begins with changing our attitudes. It’s not uncommon for me to see a reluctance to create a Second Rodeo that is ultimately rooted in a pessimism about the future. Many, too many, hold the belief that our best days are behind us. One of the key skills we try to teach is the ability to reframe our thoughts. I want people to see that their opinions about the future are not necessarily facts.
If upon reflection, you realize your beliefs about aging and the idea of decades of life still to be lived are getting in your way, give us a call. We are here to listen and help you redirect your thoughts and ultimately, your life.
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Originally published at https://www.yoursecondrodeo.com/blog