The New Age

What is a new age? 

I turned 60 on August 21, 2022. As I begin to write this I have now been in my sixties for one week. So far, so good, This time last year, right after turning 59, it was significantly less than so far, so good. I had just recovered from a mild case of COVID, my partner and I had just moved from a situation that was not sustainable. I had a new two-bedroom apartment to put together, and I had discovered that I had an inguinal hernia that fortunately was not painful, but was bothersome and unsightly nonetheless. 

Fast forward to now: the apartment is nicely set up and we love the space, the hernia has been repaired with surgery, and I have been able to avoid getting another case of COVID. 

And now I am in my sixties. 

What is a new age? The word "new" usually refers to anything that has, until recently, not been in our possession or has been unfamiliar to us. It can also apply to experiences and people. It may not actually be new, but it may be new to us. The word "age" can refer to how young or old something or someone is, but it can also apply to a period of time, as in "The Golden Age of Movies". 

The new age I speak of is this period of time (my sixties) that has, until recently, been unfamiliar to me. To be honest, it is still unfamiliar, in the same way a new home or frock could remain unfamiliar after only a week. But here is what I know about it so far:

• It is better than the first week of being 59. 
• It feels very much like the last week of being 59. 
• I prefer being at the beginning of a decade rather than at the end, because I get to make a "10 year plan". 
• It is more obvious now that I am 30 years older than my boyfriend, who is 30. 
• There are some changes to my body that I have absolutely no control over. 

***

What is a new age?

I was at a pool party in the summer with men "around my age", and I observed how some are faring better than others, whatever that means. In Los Angeles, aging well means only that you look good, that you are aging well on the outside (but not necessarily on the inside). Of course, it is reasonable to conclude that the outside reflects the inside, yes? At least when the outside has not been, uh, repaired cosmetically. 

Some of it is, of course, genetics. For instance, George Clooney and Brad Pitt will look good as they continue to age--becoming burnished versions of their younger selves. This is quite different from someone like Al Pacino, who is barely recognizable from his handsome younger self. 

For some of us, the environment and our behavior factor into how we age more than genetics. The world can take a toll on a person's face and body! But so can sugar, alcohol, drugs, lack of exercise, and bad relationships. Stress can take a toll. So can racism, homophobia, isolation, poverty, sun-tanning, and war. 

At this pool party, I observed how men of my age behaved together. I don't think any of us, myself included, "acted our age": we ate foods that we should not eat, drank more alcohol than we should drink, in some cases wore swimsuits we should not be wearing (or took them off completely). None of these behaviors were crimes, but it did start me wondering what behaviors I might want to review for myself, as a 60 year-old. For instance, is it, perhaps, time to get rid of some of my speedos? 

When we are young, we don't think about age because we usually don't have to. It is something that is so far in the future that we don't regularly make decisions based on how they will impact our golden years. Youth is one of those things that deceives us; and perhaps unintentionally sells us on the durability of smooth flesh and hard muscles. When we are young and strong, we can't imagine not being young and strong--that is how ignorant we are! But it would be helpful to imagine it, and even to care about it. Because there is a difference between not caring about when the Earth will be swallowed by the Sun (billions of years from now) and not caring about 40 years from now in our lives and bodies. For 20 year-olds, 40 years might as well be a billion. 

***

What is a new age?

Today, in my new age, I am definitely thinking about the next 40 years. I am also thinking about the next 5 years, and I am even thinking about tomorrow. That is the main difference--when I was young, I thought about the current moment more than the future--today it is reversed. But don't make the mistake of thinking that I don't enjoy today because my head is in tomorrow. My tomorrow is influenced by how I think about today--the two are connected now, not separate; my thinking of the future affects not only the choices I make today, but also how I experience those choices. I may choose to drink less so that I avoid a hangover, but that allows me to focus more on conversation with others who may be sharing the space around me. 

In the new age, my priorities are health, relationship, work, peace of mind, and community. I read once that, as we get older, priorities shift from status to connection to security. That makes sense. At 60. I don't have as much time to repair things in my life if I fuck up. Security provides a buffer against the inevitable threats that come with age, ensuring that I can respond with as many resources as possible. 

As I continue into this decade, I will no doubt experiment with different ways of expressing myself in the world (less Speedos?), hopefully settling somewhere that makes sense to both me and to others in my life. And while I navigate this road, I will also no doubt be thinking about turning 70. But I might be better off thinking less about how I want to be and more about just being. My hesitation with that is the concern that I am less likely to succeed at spontaneous expression now than I was as a younger man. 

Spontaneity, when young, is cool. It is sexy. It is hip. It inspires. In old age, spontaneity can look sloppy, inspiring ridicule. Why is that? Maybe older bodies don't move as smoothly as younger ones, but does that mean they should not move? 

Perhaps the path forward, for me, is to pay attention to the world and the people who surround me during the day, and let that stimulate my response. If I am paying attention, would my response not be both spontaneous and authentic? Authenticity does not age since it is of the moment, and I suspect that my attention to the moment, and what it offers, will shift the conversation from what is appropriate to what is authentic, and what is authentic is rarely ever inappropriate. 

I really don't want to be laughed at. 

***

What is a new age? 

There is no one template for me to follow regarding being 60. Everybody is doing it differently, it seems to me (not all of them are doing it "well"). Some are accepting the effects of age, as well as both the new limitations and opportunities, by making necessary adjustments, while others are denying the same with every dollar in their wallet. Shouldn't we feel good about reaching 60, or any age for that matter? I do, so far. But more and more it seems that the markers of age: wrinkles and wisdom, insight and patience, silence and contemplation, humor and compassion, are rarely seen, valued, or respected. Respect is at times a response to respectful behaviors--is it not? Are older folks behaving "respectfully" these days?

If you are wondering how I define respect, I lean towards a Kantian view of it: respect means not treating yourself or any other as a means, only as an end. Translation: you don't use yourself or others as a way to get something else. 

If one wonders why nobody values old folks, you might tell them it is because nobody values being old. There is little value today in being older because young people do not want what older folks have to offer, at least that is what I notice in Los Angeles. Wisdom? No thank you! Money is valued more. Patience? Fuck that! I want what I want and I want it now (it doesn't help that we can usually get it right away). Insight? Too painful, expensive, and time-consuming--why spend time in therapy when we can instead do ayahuasca and feel more enlightened the next morning?

There used to be purpose in growing older--we were the "elders", guiding the youth, caring for the young while the parents hunted or worked in the village. It is so different now, obviously, because we are no longer hunter-gatherers as we once were, at least most of us are not. We now hunt and gather money, and since youth is where the money is, that is valued more. Experienced folks are seen as "out-of-date", with nothing to offer. 

If only they knew what we had to offer. 

***

In my psychotherapy practice, clients come to me for what I have to offer them, and I am grateful to have chosen a career that grows in value with my age. And yet, I am still figuring out what value my age has for me, even though I suspect I may be going about it the wrong way. I would like my new age to be similar to David Byrne's life, who, at the age of 70, still rides his bicycle around Manhattan and performs music with younger musicians in a way that lifts the spirit. (I highly encourage you to watch "American Utopia" on Netflix if you have not already done so.) This demonstrates that as people get older, they can "be authentic" to their age and continue to be vital; inspire and be inspired by younger generations, being true to oneself AND being influenced by what is new. 

Many of the elders I admire are (or were, some are gone now) musicians or actors, mostly because they are the most visible: Annie Lennox, Bruce Springsteen, Bonnie Raitt, David Bowie, Barack and Michelle Obama, Lenny Kravitz, Pema Chodron, the 14th Dalai Lama, Jimmy Carter, and so on. I admire folks who have not just kept themselves healthy and fit as they age, but also those who remain engaged with the world in meaningful ways--you could say that they have an enduring curiosity about life. 

If there is one common denominator between all of these people I have named, it is that nobody is laughing at them. That is my gauge. 

I don't want anyone to ever look at me, as an older man in the world, and laugh at how I am acting or presenting myself. And while this may seem to be an objective gauge, measured by an outside observer, I would counter that the gauge is also internal--that I will know way before an outside observer will if I am being ridiculous. How will I know when I am acting/talking/dressing in a way that is laughable? Well, I will have to listen to my intuition, and pay attention when it signals that I am being inauthentic. 

There are a lot of people who talk to me about their desire to be "authentic". That can be a tricky ambition if they define authentic as a goal. In reality, it is a value, not a goal, meaning that it is a direction in which to head rather than a destination to get to. Let's break it down. Here is a list of descriptors--see if you can guess which ones are associated with authenticity and which are not:

• ridiculous
• silly
• mindful
• genuine
• deceptive
• attentive
• irrational
• judgmental
• compassionate
• curious

I won't bother to tell you which is which because it is better to sit with your own process of examination, but you may notice that the states you associate with authenticity all require a degree of mindfulness. In my view, mindfulness is not just being aware of what is happening inside of you, but also noticing what is happening outside of you--it is your inside world paying attention to the outside world and then noticing how the inside world feels about that--it is a response rather than a reaction, it is about the moment rather than the unknown future, it requires attention rather than distraction. Authenticity is less about who you are and more about who you are in the moment that you are in.

True authenticity is rarely, if ever, laughed at. And this is my goal. 

***

In many ways, my entire life has been both extraordinary and commonplace. When I think about it, getting married for the first time in my 60's could be extraordinary. Or commonplace. I am not sure which--what elements distinguish those categories? Maybe it depends not on how I look at it, but instead how others look at it. To me, the decision to get married now feels natural--there is nothing impulsive or spontaneous about it, but I can understand why others might look at me and think: Why now? Why him? Whereas I think, if you love someone that much: Why not?

Remember that poster you would see with poem about the lady who will wear purple everyday once she gets old? I am not even sure it was purple she wanted to wear, but that is how I remember it. The poster seemed to be saying that, ideally, you stop giving a fuck when you get old--you can do what you feel like doing and not care what others think (like wearing purple!). Sounds a little like becoming a child again, but without the supervision or carelessness. Think Ruth Gordon in Harold and Maude, and you will get the picture. She was free. She was even free to choose when she died. 

But remember that even with Maude's freedom, she choose to enter into a relationship with Harold, loving him dearly. Her relationship was not a cage, it was not a trap, it was an extension of the way she lived her life, an expression of her freedom to choose. True freedom does not mean that you go around doing whatever you want whenever you want, it means that you have the ability, resources, access, and willingness to make your own choices, whether it is to get an abortion, live alone in the woods, get married at 60, or wear purple when you are old, while also accepting responsibility for the effect and consequences of those choices on yourself and others. 

It means that you find authenticity in attention to the moment--noticing not only what is happening around you, but also what is happening inside you, and then responding to that--or not. True freedom cannot exist for me without interdependence on others, because true freedom requires outside support and mutual reliance. I am not sure what freedom will look like for me in my new age, but I can know a bit about what it will look like today, so maybe I will just start there. This is how I want to do my 60's.

This is my new age. 

Age: It's All In or Nothing

A brief break from my "This House" series...

On a recent day, a young man, who I was getting to know, was in my company. As we lay face to face in only the way that people "getting to know one another" do, I asked him if he ever thinks about the fact that I am fifty-two years of age. He told me that he does not think about it--he does not think about it at all. He then asked me if I think about it, and I confessed to him that I do indeed think about it. I told him that I think about how it would play out to get "involved" with someone younger than I, given that there is a possibility that right now, unbeknownst to me, there is something inside me, getting ready to ramp up, that may lead to my death.

So, yeah, I do think about my age.

I know it's not romantic, but I think about these things--just not in the way you might expect. Age, as a concept, is a sticky one, isn't it? Better yet, it is slippery. Over the years, the topic of age has slipped all around the place, never landing for long in one perspective. When I was a child, anyone who was in their fifties was old! They were often grandparents, and overweight, and certainly not sexy, not sexy at all. But then something happened. In the 70's people started taking care better care of themselves, at least exercise-wise. They cut back on smoking and drinking, at least compared to the 60's and earlier, and they ate better. Natural and organic foods started to show up, and aerobics became popular.

Along with these changes, many public figures refused to "get old". It seems that for many, it is no longer acceptable to "age" when you don't "have to", and many people remained active, relevant, and sexually appealing after forty. Nowadays, of course, there is procedural assistance, and many people in their fifties and older have faces devoid of wrinkles! So what does it mean to age? Is there a difference between wanting to be healthy as one gets older, and wanting to look forever young? (Hint: Of COURSE there is.)

***
I used to be very very very active, so active that it was nearly ridiculous. In my twenties, in San Diego, I would take dance classes all day, work in a bar until 3am, nap for a couple of hours until my day job at 6 am, then go back to class when I got off .

Me in dance class in my 20's

I would rehearse for shows while teaching dance and choreographing for my own group, then race up to L.A. to take more classes. In my thirties I was doing it all in L.A. while working catering gigs, often racking up 18 hour work days on events. For one job I would start at 5 am and do deliveries all day only to return in the evening to load up a party, deliver and set it up, run the floor, then break it down and return to the kitchen at 2 am. Then in my forties I worked full time at Whole Foods Market while taking 12 units per quarter in grad school, eventually adding an internship that was basically an unpaid part time job.

Me doing ALC in my 30's

All through this, I took pretty good care of myself. I always consumed below moderate levels of alcohol (and other stuff), and as I learned how to cook, I ate healthier. I have been working out since I was fourteen years old, and have cycled all my life. I do yoga and I drink lots of water, I get regular sleep, blah blah blah. But now, in my fifties, I am tired! I am not exactly sitting in a rocking chair though. I am building a psychotherapy practice in a crowded field and an economy that values physical beauty over mental health. I have no back up plan, no safety net. I still bike or take public transit everywhere, and I still work out at least three times a week and do yoga. But for me, that is slowing down! I like being at home at night, not running around town doing who knows what. There is SO much going on just outside my door but I am more interested in what is happening behind my closed door, with myself as company.

The potential of romance was a big factor in my past nutso activity level. Though I was a hard worker and loved most of what I did, I was also aware of an underlying hope that one of the many activities I engaged in would lead to meeting "The One". Can you imagine such a crazy idea? But here is the thing about that, from my much lived-in perspective: I just don't care about that anymore. The reality about the idea of The One is that it is only a story, and nothing more. This story is true for some, not for others. It was true for me until it wasn't any longer, in other words, there were a lot of unfinished first acts. There were some great loves, some shitty loves, some okay loves, and some really good sex mixed up in all of it. But for me, the only "one" for me has turned out to be, well, me. I wrote about this earlier so I won't rehash it now, except to repeat that I am not quitting--just stepping off the road and sitting on a sidewalk bench. There is plenty of room for someone to sit next to me, if they wish.

***
The story of The One has great power. In fact, you might be able to see how religion, at its core, is the ultimate story of The One, since it properly places Perfect Love right out of reach, thereby sustaining desire, hope, and pursuit. Many religious folk do their best to bring the story down to earth in their own human pairings, and many succeed quite well. My niece recently got married to the first boy she has seriously dated, and since they are Mormon, they see their marriage as being "for eternity".

As a story, this works for the Mormons precisely because it is so over the top. If you are going to invest in the story of The One, you MUST be all in or it won't work. If you doubt one parcel of it the whole thing could start to crumble--except for the Jews, whose faith is strengthened through questioning and investigation. My lovely niece is sure to have a happy marriage, happier than most, because she is wholly invested in a story that nearly erases doubt and extraneous expectation. But that doesn't make her belief the truth, or the way she got married the correct way--at least not for everybody. I am sure she loves her husband (as much as one can love their first), but the church tells her what to expect from a marriage, and I suspect that she, like other Mormon wives, fully accept this dictate*. They have to, otherwise they might look at their husbands and say, at some point, "Who am I and who are you?" Questions like that are not always great for storybook marriage, but they are fantastic for living a life like mine.

For me, the choice between options was yanked away when I realized that gay people didn't get to participate in storybook marriages. At first, I was lost, and tried to find my prince despite not being wanted in the kingdom, but now I cherish my chosen life as much as my niece cherishes her dictated life. I am "all in". But both are still based on stories. The only difference is that I am more of a co-author of my story, and at this point I have killed off the character of The One (even though nowadays the storybook marriage is available to me). It just doesn't work with my storyline.

My storyline requires regular editing, because, you know, things change! This gives me an advantage in that I don't get hung up on things being a certain way, forever, because they aren't. If you don't like that fact, then I guess you have to make up a story that makes you feel more comfortable (like the Mormons). No harm there, I suppose, unless they feel that their story needs to be everybody else's story (they do). With my story, I have the support of science, which means that it is not just my story, but the story of nature and physics. Argue with that, bitches!

That is why, when I find myself lying face to face with a young man, I cannot just stick to the story that I am also young. I do think about it! It is easy for a young person to have a story that says "age is just a number", but for someone of age, that is not necessarily true! Young folks see a sixty year old as old, while sixty-five year olds give themselves another five years before they will admit to joining that club. My question is, what are the boundaries of old age based on?

Age is not just a number, age is aging, but aging is not necessarily getting old. What aging looks like is up to the individual, biology and heredity, the culture, and the environment. I will agree with most that "you are as old as you feel". Most days I feel pretty "young", while other days I feel "older", but perhaps I am just tired--a state of feeling that I pretty much bulldozed out of my life for many years, but now openly welcome with a lovely afternoon nap or an evening relaxing at home. I do know that while I want to feel good, I have no desire to be thirty-five anymore. It is too tiring, and not as interesting to me now as it was at the time. I like my life now, and if that life includes occasions where I can take a nap one day, then lay face to face another day with someone who reminds me what it "feels like" to be younger, then so be it. It's something worth thinking about, don't you think?

*Great article here about how religion gets 'em through social consent.