Coming of Age
I learned to surf at 41. When I say it out loud, it actually sounds kind of crazy. Most of my friends are thinking about college funds and planning for retirement. I, on the other hand, am shopping for two-piece swimsuits and building a beach house.
This divergence of lifestyles (read: life) probably started a long time ago, when I moved to Manila and then later decided not to have children. But the differences became even more evident in the last couple of years when I moved even further away from the status quo to a small seaside town.
Never in my most outlandish dreams would I have thought that I’d leave city life. I had shaped my identity in the urban cradles of New York, Paris, and Hong Kong, my pulse beating at the same pace as the quick footsteps on the pavement, ears immune to sirens and honking cars. Now, I’m discovering myself in San Juan, where my daily rhythm is determined by the sun’s cycle and I am lulled to sleep by the crashing of the waves. I left the complexities of the city structure full of social requirements, imposed vanity, and convoluted priorities for a life of profoundly satisfying simplicity.
Not to say it’s been easy. As Heather Havrilesky writes, “Living simply today takes work … It takes work to overcome the illusion that we will arrive at some end point where we will be better–more successful, adored, satisfied, relaxed, rich.”
But it’s been an easy choice. The expected existential crisis at midlife filled my mind with the questions I needed to ask to bring me to where I am now. What does success look like? What riches am I after? I read books and listened to podcasts on aging and death, curious of the fate that lay before me. They led me to a paradox of simultaneously embracing life and denying death.
Caitlin Doughty wrote in her hilarious book Smoke Gets in Your Eyes, “the great achievements of humanity were born out of the deadlines imposed by death.”
Now that I'm halfway to the finish line and distanced from distraction, I’ve found clarity on what matters most to me: being a kind person, a dependable partner, a responsible community member, and if possible, a creative contributor to culture. I’m dedicating each day of the rest of my life to being those things.
I also just want to enjoy life with what I've got: both old-person habits and a young-person attitude (then again, who’s to say what is “old” or “young”?). I sleep and rise early, I make an effort to eat well, and watch the sunset as often as possible. I also try a lot of new things like surfing and writing that many my age would consider risky and vulnerable.
In his book Die with Zero, Bill Perkins says, “How fast your body’s health declines depends on how in shape (or not) you are now.” I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been right now. So am I extending my life? I’m driven to improve and accomplish the challenges given to me by chosen physical activity of surfing. This high-risk sport has made me feel more alive than ever and I want to continue for as long as I can.
Another layer of complexity (or simplicity, as it were) in this life is my yoga practice. The years I’ve been practicing yoga have taught me a lot about acceptance and to take accountability for my choices. So if I die today, I am ok. Of course, there are many things that I would still like to do but I am at peace with whatever happens. I did not need a dramatic instance to alter the course of my life. Yoga slowly helped me with that. They say that the practice yoga is like a mirror, showing you your true self. I believe this to be true, and I have made life choices based on this.
These days, I barely look at myself in the mirror. I don’t think too much about how I look, nor do I care as much about what others think (and the beauty is, many in San Juan feel the same way). My age is no longer determined so much by how I look but how my body feels. The aches from the rigor I put it through and the lengthier recovery time when I get injured are signals that although I have the will to do things, I should proceed with caution. I take these more as warnings than a stop sign. Ok, so maybe I don’t have full acceptance of my limitations just yet.
But I love who I’m becoming. I’ve come of age in my forties as more creative, expressive, generous, and real than I have ever been. Rather than be on the downward slope of the hill, I feel like I am still climbing up. There’s so much ahead. Like tomorrow, after a brief stint in the city, I look forward to changing into my swimsuit and paddling out into my life, full of adventure, fresh air, and salt water.
