Courage of the 4th age

Some years ago when studying for my marketing diploma we considered the end of life opportunities that occur when a rich seam has been exploited and abandoned by the market leaders in favour of something new. For the few specialists who remain there can be a rich market in serving those loyal customers who prefer the old ways. In time their specialism is replaced and their skill and craftsmanship dies out.

For the last three years my father has suffered from advanced dementia and is being cared for in a home. My mother suffers to see him so diminished and frail, so rambling, sleepy or contrary. She clings to her life’s memories of happier days and sorrowful times. At the drop of a hat she recounts tales of long ago believing she’s telling me for the first time. She’s desperate to give away what little money she has left in random acts of kindness saying “There’s no pockets in shrouds”. Table talk is of preparation for departure and as she reviews the obituary columns each day she sometimes sounds envious that another friend has passed away before her. Mum’s days pass with a necessary monotony. Change, at 91, is not only difficult, it’s unthinkable. There is massive comfort in the familiar.

In my early days as a coach, heavily influenced by corporate demands, my primary interest was in how to facilitate change. How can I help this workforce to engage with greater commitment so that they perform better, faster, cheaper and ‘turn on a sixpence’ as the organisation around them ‘adapts to the market’ with another restructuring like a savage game of musical chairs. It literally took a body blow to realign my interests toward health. Now my outlook has changed completely. I recognise that it’s a full time job becoming who we are rather than marching to a drumbeat that’s not our own.

Life is precious, life is brief. Too many of us are so busy on the treadmill that we do not marvel at the beauty surrounding us. Either we never learn to sing our unique song or we’re afraid to listen to it. At every stage, life’s challenges demand courage, from infants learning to walk under the loving eye of devoted parents, to students leaving home for the first time, feeling both excited and a little nervous at the year ahead. Their parents too must change as they adjust to an empty nest. Elderly relatives have to confront their own mortality and perhaps surrender their independence when no longer able to look after themselves. Even the life transitions that we all face require courage let alone the life changing events incurred through injury.

Demographics determine that more of us will reach a 4^th age of health challenges and dependence. Being close to this situation has helped me to appreciate the rich seam of serenity that our elders display and the imperative to live mindfully and appreciatively of this beautiful world, while we can. Lives fully lived display a universal craftsmanship where the challenges are met with courage that inspires us. Let my coaching now assist us in learning from, and contributing to, the legacy of good example so that we hand on the precious skills of courage, inquisitiveness, joy and love that will inspire future generations and whose essence can never die out.

Paul Curran

After the Rain

September has started well. Today is calm, sunny and bright, a welcome change from recent days. Reports speak of the wettest August on record, a miserable experience for children who have only a few precious weeks of holiday between school years. It’s disappointing also for those families whose Bank Holiday plans were comprehensively washed out, at least here in Northern Ireland.

There are as many ways of observing the seasons as there are people alive but I’m struck by my own reaction to the weather. I’ve always plenty to do; my days are always busy come rain or shine but I recognise the zest that accompanies a sunny day.  Mundane tasks are discharged with ease where yesterday they engendered drudgery. Today brings a sense of possibility, of promise. All will be well. Somehow it’s easier to ‘live in the moment’ when the world is sunny and bright.

However, to expect only sunshine is unrealistic. The joy of a sunny morning is proportional to the dreariness of the previous wet afternoon. The satisfaction of a meal is related to the hunger that precedes it. The romance of a new relationship is intoxicating after years of loneliness. In all manner of ways we use the bad times to calibrate the good. It’s an inversion of the saying ‘You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone’. But because these sunny disposition experiences can only account for a small percentage of our lives, it is vital that we learn to ‘live in the moment’ whatever the circumstances so that we can live life to the full. It’s perhaps also important to look beyond the immediate, to the underlying cause and to take responsibility for doing what we can to create a better situation.

Often such work requires introspection – If these dreadful summer rains are due to climate change, how might I have contributed? If these dreadful chest pains are due to angina, am I aggravating the situation through my dietary choices? If a spouse has left, what was my role in the disintegration of the relationship?  Life’s greatest challenges and most painful moments can be pivotal learning opportunities for us if we let them. Significant change requires significant emotional adjustment and the ‘emotional time constant’ is highly variable among individuals. Those with a wholly pragmatic disposition may appear cold or superficial to others but both approaches are arguably necessary firstly to get the transition underway and secondly to embed the acceptance that sustains it. ‘Living in the moment’ through significant change is likely to subject individuals to a rollercoaster of emotions as described by Kubler Ross’s change curve.

Here, in the shadow of Slieve Donard in the Mournes, townsfolk smile as they tell you  “If you can see  the mountains the rain is on its way, and if you can’t see the mountains it’s already raining”. In general our waterbutts are at least half full here and we’ve learned to enjoy a sunny day when it comes along. For myself, I’m learning to live in the moment come rain or shine. I don’t want to live in the past, nor to worry unduly about the future but will choose a way of life which I believe creates the best chances for my grandchildren to enjoy the beauty of this world as much as I have. I’ll also choose a way of life that creates the best chances for me to be here for them.

Today in Newcastle is sunny and warm. Inevitably change, and further learning,  is on the way but for now I’m singing - “I can see clearly now the rain has gone.”