Bedlam Farm Blog Journal by Jon Katz

“We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone – we find it with another.” – Thomas Merton on aging.

I’ve followed Thomas Merton for decades, but lately, his quote about aging has become one of my favorite Merton quotes.

I’ve done little value in my life by doing things alone, and I have great success and value in finding the meaning of life, good or bad, by helping others.

Getting older is simultaneously exhausting and exhilarating; I go from one to the other. “Do not brood over your past mistakes and failures,” cautioned a famous Indian Swami,” as this will only fill your mind with grief, regret, and depression.”

True, at least for me.

Regret of the past and fear of the future were exhausting, dangerous, and depressing.

Regret and fear both nibble around the edges of the mind, and we feel the weariness and hopelessness that comes with it. Years did slip by without my realizing it. Several times, I gave up.

But I’m very much aware of it now.

Two of my life lessons are that I can’t change the past and that I can’t know the present.

So why not focus on what makes me happy now? That is the search for a meaningful life with another human being and doing as much good as I can for others. Stepping outside of myself and thinking of other people was transformative.

It can be a friend, a therapist, or a child. In my case, Maria came into my life almost the day I was beginning to give up and helped me find the meaning of life together.

We have loved, bled, feared, grown, wept, and cheered life together. We have figured out what it means to be happy, shed the ghosts of the past,  comfort each other when we are sad or wavering,  and come to accept our right to happiness.

I recently confessed my many sins and shortcomings to my long-time therapist, Peggy, when she interrupted me: “Jon, you did what you needed to do to survive, and so did the people around you who let you down so badly. It’s as simple as that. Blaming yourself or letting anyone shame you is just a waste of your time and of what remains of your life.”

That was good advice, and I took it. I’m not in therapy now; I’m living life, not stewing over it.

I didn’t really understand that when I committed in the open to changing my life and working to be healthier, I was also opening the gates to an army of haters, doubters, cynics, and troubled people.

They aren’t bad people, no worse than me; they hate and fear that anyone can be sincere about changing or helping others. If that is possible, then their whole existence is in doubt.

Once that became clear to me, I was free to move on.

Many other good people also loved, supported, understood, and befriended me. Why was I listening to the one but not the other? And which one did I want to be? Rather than argue my worth, I just chose to live it. No one can take that from me.

My wobbling was my part of being broken. “It’s almost over,” my heart kept saying, “What did I do with all of the time?” Aging has allowed me to rethink my life and live it wisely.  It doesn’t matter now what I did 50 years ago or what was done to me.

It matters what I do now.

I commit myself to being a better human being, meaningfully using the remainder of my life and supporting others and myself. That is up to me, not anyone else.

What matters is what I think, not what other people think. In the new era of instant and accessible communication, that is threatening and uncomfortable for many people. That’s too bad, but it’s my life, and I am at peace.

I’m on a path. There is no turning back; there isn’t time or reason.

Cicero wrote, “It is not by muscle, speed, or physical dexterity that great things are achieved, but by reflection, force of character and judgment.” Many of those things are new, but I’m with Cicero. That is how things are achieved.

I have done more meaningful things in the past few years than in all the years before and learned how to be open and honest in a complex and divided world. I am doing things that, in small but meaningful ways, have left a lot of people’s lives a bit better off than they were, including my own. I work hard on character and judgment.

That lifts me and affirms my life—small acts of kindness and consideration. I have a reason for being.

That was a mindblower to me, what some people call a game changer.

Today, I’m unplugging my computer, the center of my cultural universe, and heading to Vermont to replace its insides with new ones.  I’m also doing this to myself, but not with tools.

I need some space to breathe in silence and to think, to be alone with Maria; we are always plotting the next stop in life.

A young tech assured me that this trip meant my computer would most likely outlive me. That’s good, I said, laughing. Maria will get and use it when I’m gone.

(My computer is getting its open-heart surgery.)

I find myself—this is bewildering—in the best place of my life. I’m moving spiritually, and that is good for me. I see myself as I am, for better or worse, and accept myself. I am almost free now of guilt, regret, anger, and fear, most of the time at least.

I now have a shield to deflect the slings and arrows of life. It’s been a long and good trek; more is to come. Along the way, I’ve gained some perspective and many scars.

I am liberated to live anew and put it together in the way I have always wanted. People can cheer that, fear it, and hate it, but it is, after all, up to me, and here, our friend Cicero was right. It’s about character and judgment—mine.

Let’s see what happens. I’ll return on Thursday, full of myself and ready to go; the blog will not be refreshed until then. The trolls are no longer getting my attention. My flowers are; I can’t wait to get back to them. I’m learning what is essential and what isn’t. I won’t waste a minute of my life in anger and fear.

Please think of the hungry children and adults at the Cambridge Food Pantry. They are out of four very inexpensive things that they need. The post below explains what you need to know.

I hope you’ll try it and that it will make you feel as good as it makes me.