The Offerings of Age
A trip to the nail salon, closing doors, and a culture of matriarchy
As a rare treat, I took myself to the nail salon the other day.
“My nails have been chipping and breaking a lot,” I told the man, who studied them with an experienced eye. “I think it’s from getting the gel polish a few months ago. They’ve been weak ever since.”
“I’ve had customers using gel polish for ten years with no problem,” he said.
“Well mine didn’t used to be like this,” I protested.
“Flaky nails happen when you get older,” he said frankly.
I bit my tongue and handed over my money, but I was irked. Not only because three months ago my nails were just fine (did ageing happen that quickly?) but also because he implied that I was getting older.
The thing is, I am getting older. We all are. I wondered why I was so offended by the idea of it. Was it that I assume weak nails are a sign of really old age… like 60?1 Was it because when I looked around the room, the women who were clearly older had nary a grey hair in sight? I’ve deliberately chosen not to dye my hair to cover the greys that have crept in, but does it make me look older? (And why do I care, anyway?) Was it because I just wanted a nice quiet salon experience with no personal commentary?
It was probably all of the above- but this experience, and its subsequent pondering of my own attitude towards getting older in a society that encourages women to deny it, happened to coincide with several ideas about ageing that have crossed my desk in recent months.
Ageing and Choice
This really excellent essay, on the Consolations of Middle Age, struck me with its reversal of popular ideas - or rather, its return to more traditional ideas of ageing. Its author, Elizabeth C. Corey, writes,
The first consolation initially sounds odd, given our culture’s celebration of choice: Our own choices are now quite constrained….One young man told me recently that making decisions about his future was like stepping into a void. Another reported feeling that a life course had been predetermined for him, up through his college graduation; now he felt entirely unmoored. So although at times I envy the youth, beauty, and energy of my students, increasingly I am glad not to stand where they do.
My husband and I speak to university students and young people fairly regularly, and we say jokingly but in all seriousness, that we do not miss dating. For us, the awkwardness and uncertainty outweighed all the possible delights of budding romance. Give us an ordinary—even boring and predictable—evening any day of the week. We feel for our friends who are getting older along with us and haven’t yet met someone to settle down with. The uncertainties of life are difficult enough when you have boundless energy to bring to them.
And yet for some people, getting older involves wondering about all the choices we didn’t make when we were younger. In her essay, “The ghost ships that surround us”, Gina writes about the “ghost ships” of other lives we might have had, had our choices been different.
There’s nothing to do but salute them from the shore. Once choices have been made, paths taken, ships boarded, there’s not much to do but to gaze upon what wasn’t as something that could also have been good and beautiful, or hard and harrowing (or all of those things); as points in the geography of your life where you took a different turn. Maybe one day life will bring you back round to that same point, and you’ll be presented with an opportunity to make a different choice. Even if not, though, they still matter. They still signal where you, presumably, chose the thing that seemed best from your vantage point as a mere mortal, in the absence of omniscience.
When I first read her words, I was struck because I’ve found that the older I get, it seems that more possibilities open up to me, not fewer. But upon reflection, I realized that this is precisely because of the choices I have made, the doors I have closed, the ships I let sail away.
The Choice of a Spouse
On the one hand, the possibility of marrying an array of different men is no longer available to me. (Thank God.) I suppose there might be “ghost ships” of different lives had I married other men, but they do truly make me shudder and so I try not to think about them. On the other hand, in closing the door to endless potential husband possibilities, I have found an entirely new set of possibilities waiting for me.
We’ve committed to each other “until death do us part” and now as we age together, we have the joy of choosing what our lives will look like. For me, the stability of marriage offers a firm foundation to explore new things in other areas of life. I can muster the energy to go to a networking event, knowing that even if I have a miserable time, there is someone to come home to, someone I can laugh or cry with about my experience. The same is true for all sorts of things: pitching articles, attending job interviews, trying new hobbies. In the past, “being single” pervaded all of these, in obvious or subtle ways. Would I meet my future husband at this event? How would I provide for myself if I didn’t get the job? Was my future tied to the success of my article?
(Of course, for many people, “being married” and “getting older” do not coincide; but for me, they have.)
The consistency of one closed door has boosted my confidence in knocking on others.
And of course, confidence in one area can lead to more in others.
Knowledge of Limitations and Growth in Confidence
Corey writes,
A second consolation of middle age might likewise seem unattractive at first: We now possess a clear view of our own aptitudes and deficiencies. All hopes of careers in gymnastics or basketball are off the table for those in my generation; and, as the joke goes, when Mozart was my age, he had already been dead for fifteen years. I know with certainty that I will never play the piano music of Liszt, write a novel, or take up mountain climbing. More seriously, and much more importantly, I also know the character of my own mind and have few illusions about my capabilities.
Corey’s words hold a healthy tension with the idea that “it’s never too late.” For instance, you can start exercising regularly at 73 and become a champion rower at 93.2 These things do happen, albeit not without effort. Henry Oliver has written an entire book about “Late Bloomers,” explaining that “different sorts of people realise their abilities at different stages of their lives. This is consistent with recent research on the ages at which different cognitive functions peak throughout our lives.”3
I like the tension between these ideas: with age, you both know your limits, and you know it’s never too late. I think for me one actually leads to the other.
I know my limitations: I know that I’m never going to be an athlete, or even, really, athletic. Thank God I can now stop worrying about it! I can satisfactorily close the door on that idea. At the same time, I can know that it’s never too late for me to decide I want to exercise regularly without the pressure of wondering if I’ll be “athletic.”
One gift of ageing seems to be the ability to just have confidence in being oneself. It’s possible to both “have few illusions about my capabilities” and pursue the things I find interesting and enjoyable for their own sake, rather than because others pressure me to do so. Writes Corey:
We know (or can predict) the things people say behind our backs, but we care far less, or not at all. So much of early life is consumed in aspiration and anticipation, worry and comparison. In middle age, we can finally let go of the need to see ourselves always through the eyes of others.
An Oldster Magazine interview with entrepreneur Chip Conley affirms this view in more frank language.
My 50s were also a decade when I realized I have “no more fucks left to give.” It didn’t mean I didn’t care about life—it just meant that I was more judicious about what I did care about.
Precisely because we’ve seen how much of our lives were wasted in comparison or peer pressure or unrealistic aspiration, the ageing person experiences real freedom in stepping away from it all.
The Choice of Work
Another benefit of getting older and knowing ourselves and our capabilities better is that we are free to go deeper rather than wider. It’s analogous to marriage: once you make the choice, your field has narrowed down to one. But now with that one, the possibilities are hugely varied.
When we know what we’re good at, we can stop focusing on all the other things we might be good at, or feel that we ought to be good at, and instead hone our skills in a more focused way.
And in another happy tension, those honed skills can open up new possibilities yet again.
Henry Oliver notes:
Late bloomers don’t often know what they’re preparing for. They work blindly towards their goals. Their career paths are meandering, exploratory, restricted, or full of failure. They learn in this phase, developing the skills and knowledge they will use later, but they don’t always have an end point in mind.
Vera Wang was an Olympic level ice skater and then a Vogue journalist for years with no thought of designing clothes. When she made the switch, she had accrued all the skills and contacts she needed.4
It brings to mind, ironically, the geometric shape of an hourglass. The narrowing of options leads to wider choice - and back and forth again. Vera Wang narrowed her career into a fashion magazine, then widened it again by wanting design wedding dresses. The two things aren’t totally disparate, but they’re not a straight line, either.
The Choice to Share & Serve
One of the joys of ageing includes the possession of wisdom that comes from seeing how things can relate over time, often in non-linear ways that were unimaginable in youth. And that joy expands with the ability to share it. Corey reflects:
The consolation is not just that I no longer have to make the choices these young people face. It is also that I can assist, counsel, and listen as they sort through their own decisions. Whatever wisdom I possess is born of long experience, free of the emotions that swirled around a given moment of life. By middle age, one’s fund of experience is ample, and pivotal moments have been analyzed and rethought over many years. We therefore have insights to share with those who follow us.
Particularly for women in our culture, perhaps this sharing of wisdom can be seen as something to look forward to. In her essay “Reclaiming the Matriarch: A Call to Women for Personal Fulfilment and Generational Impact,”5 Lucy Dearden writes about one possible aspiration for all ageing women: becoming a matriarch.
“Any woman, upon aging out of their fertile phase, is eligible for the role of “matriarch.” To accept this mantle is to act as a keystone for one or multiple communities, such as family, friends, colleagues, or neighbours. An icon of the post-fertile female, the matriarch is an advocate for the female embodied experience in all of its continuity. Her duties include imparting wisdom, coordinating intergenerational narratives, and influencing female destinies.
Children are not a prerequisite for entry into the matriarchal, “venerated older woman” role. Instead of kin, you can have your clan. By being visible and active in your community, you are in a position to listen to those around you, provide support, and earn influence. You can become a virtuous model for others to look up to.
Our modern culture celebrates youthfulness and forgets that most of human history has venerated age and the wisdom that comes with it. Is it crazy to think that another woman in another generation might actually feel peaceful rather than offended at being reminded of her age?
Instead of spending my time wondering if I’m really old yet, or whether or not to dye my grey hairs, what if I embraced this vision of ageing in all its fruitfulness and possibility?
It certainly sounds much more appealing than worrying about my flaking nails.
Tell me: how do you feel about ageing? What have you learned in the process so far? Share your wisdom in the comments.
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My 60+ year old readers are laughing and saying: remember when you thought 40 was really old age? Believe me, the irony is not lost.
Thanks to Oldster Magazine for this link.
Thanks to Haley Baumeister for the link in her perpetually excellent weekly roundups.
I am turning 40 next month, which I realize is not that old, but is a middle-mark, in any case. I have been finding in the past 3-4 years that I am really enjoying reaching an age at which one has had a significant amount of experience in many areas. My confidence has grown as well as my self-knowledge. I love developing both skill and experience and it is very satisfying to see that grow and see myself able to offer help to younger people rather than just peers.
This was a great piece! I agree that making big life choices like marriage can be very freeing in the fact that it closes many doors. I guess it’s a refinement of choices.
People close to me often comment that I seem much happier since getting married, not in the sense that I’m brimming with joy and enthusiasm every day - I’m definitely not - but that I’m just more rooted and confident. Before I met my husband I did a lot of stuff that looked cool on paper but in reality I felt very unmoored and insecure about what I ought to do with my life. So whilst I still think that fundamentally the available choices reduce as we get older, that is often a good thing!