It is not the young man who should be considered fortunate, wrote Epicurus, but the older man who has lived well. Because the young man in his prime wanders much by chance,  vacillating in his beliefs, while the old man has docked in the harbor, having safeguarded his true happiness.

I’m reading a charming and poignant book my friend Janet Hamilton, a fellow pilgrim and author of the wonderful blog As the Road Wanders, sent me from California. Janet is someone very much worth reading as she pieces her life together following the sudden death of her lover and best friend.

I was touched by the idea of the old man docking in the harbor, safeguarding the happiness he has earned and learned. Epicurus believed that old age was the pinnacle of life, not the end, the very best life gets.

The book, Travels with Epicurus: A Journey to a Greek Island in Search of a Fulfilled Life was written by author Daniel Klein, now in his seventies.

When his dentist told him he’d need tooth implants if he wanted to avoid wearing old-fashioned denture plates, he made a decision.

Rather than going under the drill, he headed to Greece to see if one of his favorite philosophers, the sage Epicurus, could teach him about the pleasures available only later in life, and so often ignored or overlooked by the American obsession with youthful buying power and a culture that hides from reality.

In our country, aging is about pills, doctors, pharmacies, nursing homes, and entitlement programs. It is, of course, so much more than that.

Klein’s book is really about living well at any age.

I couldn’t quite organize running off to the Aegean, but I did manage, well before it was too late, to run off to a farm in upstate New York, the safe harbor in which I have docked and plan to spend the rest of my days.

The idea of fleeing doctors and health care is very appealing to me.

I don’t wish to stay alive at all costs by any means, but I’m not sure yet the boundaries.

Some pains and troubles can come with aging; it is also a time of beauty, reflection, and peace. A glorious time, really; I am so much happier being old than I ever was being young.

Suddenly, I seem to have everything I ever wanted – love, the freedom to write what I want, a life amidst nature and surrounded by dogs and other animals.

I have finally learned not only what I want but what I don’t want.

Day by day, I shed the troubles, conflicts, ambitions, and confrontations of youth and try to make sense of the things I have learned and seen.

I have also managed to find true love and contentment in my seventies; there is nothing I don’t have that I want or need for the first time in my life. I safeguard my happiness.

I am learning when to fight and when not to fight.

For years, I have quarreled and argued with the intrusive and often rude people who have come to dominate so much of the Internet and bring their anger and judgment into my life and the lives of others.

I resent them for mucking up this astonishing new universe with their hatred, cruelty, and grievance. I was present for the birth of this culture, a media critic filled with idealism. I resent the people who polluted these dreams.

I always thought it was my duty to argue back and challenge them; it took me years to realize they were answering the call of my own anger and hurt. I think of birds way up in the trees, talking only to one another.

Now when I get a nasty or cruel message, I delete it. I don’t need to answer or argue at all, and a longtime discomfort has gone away. I don’t want to spend one minute of my precious remaining time in anger and frustration.

What a small decision, but what a big decision.

Why didn’t I know to do that years ago? Because I was young and could never walk away from a fight, I could not let anything go. I know now that is a very easy and rewarding thing to do.

It matters very little to me whether people like me or not. That’s not what I need any longer.

Finally, and at long last, I’ve found that doing good – small acts of kindness – brings me the peace and meaning I’ve always sought.

I’ve found that love was sitting right there all this time, just across the street, just waiting for me to be open enough to receive it.  You don’t stop laughing when you grow old; you grow old when you stop laughing, wrote George Bernard Shaw.

It’s easy to forget when you are older that it’s not about how old you are; it’s about how you are old.

I can look out at the wars and conflicts raging elsewhere, sit down and meditate, and secure myself in my safe harbor.  I accept the responsibility of guarding my happiness for as long as I have it.