eBook
Available on Compatible NOOK devices, the free NOOK App and in My Digital Library.
Related collections and offers
Overview
"Philosopher Schmid (High on Low) instructs readers on the art of aging gracefully and contentedly by embracing gelassenheit, a German concept denoting a relaxed attitude. Schmid provides 10 steps toward 'experiencing life's plenitude and accepting its temporal limits', including cultivating a 'reverence for habit[s]' that make life more comfortable, accepting pain and tragedy as inevitable, and strengthening interpersonal relationships. He lists numerous advantages to advanced age, including a wealth of life experience to draw from, fond memories to reflect on, and the "universal right to be passive" and even occasionally sad. On a metaphysical level, Schmid recommends mindfulness, a 'wholehearted trust in life', and, for the sake of 'peace with our own finitude', belief in the continuation of one's existence after death. This can be interpreted as an immortal energy that carries on in the absence of our physical existence, or as a more traditional belief in an afterlife. Schmid's counsel is wise and he does not avoid the difficult topics, particularly admirable when conversations around aging and death often remain taboo."—Publishers Weekly
Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940152521757 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Upper West Side Philosophers, Inc. |
| Publication date: | 02/15/2016 |
| Sold by: | Smashwords |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 235 KB |
About the Author
Bestselling author, Wilhelm Schmid is the most significant and popular contemporary German moral philosopher. In his many books on topics such as 'happiness', 'love', the 'meaning of life', and 'balanced living' - to name only a few - he has been endeavoring to create a philosophy of the art of living for our time. He lives in Berlin, Germany, and travels around the world giving lectures and workshops on the philosophy of the art of living. He has been awarded the German Prize for Outstanding Services in Conveying Philosophy to the Public (2012), and the Swiss Prize for his philosophical contribution to the Art of Living (2013).
Read an Excerpt
What We Gain As We Grow Older
On Gelassenheit
By Wilhelm Schmid, Michael Eskin
Upper West Side Philosophers, Inc.
Copyright © 2014 Insel Verlag BerlinAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-935830-31-3
CHAPTER 1
Thoughts on the Stages of Life
What actually is life? Something intensely palpable, then again not; ostensibly always the same, then again ever changing; full of variety at times, then again mundane and repetitive. It brings desire and happiness, and also pain and misfortune, and no one knows how this allotment works. It makes us long for intimacy and relationships, which we then flee, and it calls for mindfulness, only to have us mindlessly drift on again. Polarity is a core feature of life. It oscillates between opposite poles such as anger and joy, fear and hope, longing and disappointment, becoming and passing, which were long accepted as ineluctable fate. Constantly something is born while something else passes on. Every becoming goes hand in hand with a passing, and every passing with a becoming, and the same goes for the becoming that is aging. In modern times, however, living with this polarity has become questionable. How can we learn to face it with gelassenheit?
It helps to be mindful of the different stages of life if we wish to do justice to the particulars of each. They seem to resemble the different times of day: some of us get up and hit the ground running, while others are not 'morning persons' at all; still, in this stage, we often cannot wait for the day to begin. With infinite time and endless possibilities on our hands, in the prime of life we enjoy the challenge of rising to the occasion and getting on with our work, accomplishing the day's business with ease, until, unawares, we suddenly find ourselves on lunch break. Then it is already afternoon, which can drag on forever. We become sluggish, feel a bit drained, and a gaping void opens up unexpectedly. How to get through it? The day's nadir is punctured by the sudden realization that it is drawing to a close and that there is still so much to do. But — no need to panic, we will have plenty of time after dinner. After dinner, however, it is more important to catch up with family, friends and acquaintances, until we are exhausted and ready to turn in.
Similarly with the stages of life, even though they may unfold quite differently for each of us (and may need to be parsed more subtly and in greater detail). Acknowledging them, giving them the time and attention they deserve (and will claim anyway) is the first step to gelassenheit. The first quarter of life corresponds to the early morning. And although getting up may be a pain, our first few decades seem rife with infinite possibility: we can be anything, we feel immortal in the boundless space of possibility, and it is up to us to explore it through play, trial and error, and education. We are energized by what appears to be an endlessly open horizon, it is a time of pure possibility and potential 'know-how': in this life stage "I can do this" means "I could, if I only wanted to."
From the start, however, our life is prone to aging — almost imperceptibly at first, and then in spurts that can take us by surprise and be quite difficult to manage. It begins in the womb without our noticing it; then, at three, we cannot wait to be six, and at six we want nothing more than to be twelve, and at twelve we are dying to be eighteen. As we put the turmoils of puberty behind us, we begin experiencing the passage of time in a new way. The years that dragged on forever for the child zoom by for the adult, and there is barely any time or space left for gelassenheit. By that point, some of us know exactly what they want and rush to get ahead; others are still searching and would prefer making a U-turn: "I'm scared of getting older," a twenty-year-old tells me. Sometimes, puberty seamlessly transitions into a serious existential crisis, early disappointments in relationships and failed projects can lead to a so-called quarter-life crisis.
A lot happens in the first quarter. It is a period of virtually endless experimentation, and the experiences we gather in this life stage will come in handy later in life. The transition to the second quarter of life occurs on the fly, and it is only in the late morning, around our thirtieth birthday, that the suspicion creeps in that, contrary to appearances, the horizon will not remain open forever. And while this intimation cannot be pinned down to a specific year or date in our life — the range tends to be pretty wide here — for the first time we find ourselves asking: which of our projects are still realistic?
Time is of the essence when it comes to getting on with long-term projects such as starting a family or reaching career goals. These external pressures, however, tend to be dwarfed by the pressure we put on ourselves to finally commit to the decisions we have made and to seriously work on realizing our ideas and goals in our relationships with others, ourselves and the world at large — so long as we wish to accomplish anything at all. Saying good-bye to the conditional ("I could if I only wanted to") is the hallmark of this life stage. Now is the time to prove our mettle and to show the world what we can really do. "I can do this" now means actually making it happen, if need be over the long haul and against major obstacles. Sheer excitement about the tasks at hand trumps any doubts we may have about being able to rise to the challenge. Our profound sense of being firmly grounded in life, powerful and invincible (even if occasionally stressed out), makes it easy to forget that we are getting older.
Somewhere between forty and fifty, then, and in full swing, we cross the noon meridian, the midpoint of our life (assuming our life expectancy to be eighty, ninety or a hundred, which is not at all improbable in contemporary first- world societies). From now on, the number of years left will always be smaller than the number of years gone by. Aging is ever on our heels, like a stalker who does not keep a safety distance and cannot even be indicted for it. Getting body, mind and spirit naturally in tune with this new life stage may be rough sailing — not unlike the storms of puberty — and may drag on for years. At a time when, following a sumptuous midday meal, we feel full with life and a bit sluggish, this may come as a shock. At such a time, gelassenheit is probably only possible if we are truly willing to trust the process and simply let aging happen.
Midlife crisis and menopause completely change our perspective on life: up to this point it was prospective, open-ended and future-oriented ("What will my life be like? What do I want to achieve, and what can I do to get there?"); now it becomes retrospective, tapering off toward the front and getting progressively rear-heavy ("What has my life been like? What have I created and accomplished?")
When we were young, we were not at all interested in contemplating or talking about aging, dying and death; now, conversely, we cannot help thinking about these issues, unless we consciously work on suppressing them. As we enter this new life stage, with its unique physical and spiritual characteristics, our outlook changes accordingly. All of us are anchored in our individual viewpoints, which are subject to the influences of our unique situations, work environments, experiences and relationships. So dominant is each individual perspective, in fact, that assuming someone else's is almost inconceivable; and even though it may at times be possible to empathize with or mentally put ourselves in another's place — an older or younger person's, for instance — this new 'adopted perspective' will never truly become ours. Thus, our newly gained, 'broader' midlife perspective, too, which may appear to have overcome the limitations of youth, will perforce necessarily be limited: to our own current life situation. And so, even as our overall understanding of life's finitude ostensibly increases with age, it cannot but remain fairly theoretical given that the end of life is still something that is looming in the distant future.
CHAPTER 2Understanding the Idiosyncrasies of Aging
As we get older, the second step to Gelassenheit consists in learning as much as we can about the idiosyncrasies of this life stage, in being open to whatever it may bring, especially its challenges. The third quarter of life holds the promise of years — maybe even decades — of activity made all the more joyful and rewarding by our realization that the possibilities still open to us are steadily decreasing in number. As we get older, we witness the fount of our possibilities drying up. And so, with all our might we begin to protest: this can't have been it! Some think they can salvage their dwindling options by abandoning ongoing projects and ending existing relationships in order to start over one last time.
Life's afternoon, too, has its particular kind of 'expert know-how'. Now, more than ever before, "I can do this" means: I know how the world works, and I can do the familiar routines in my sleep. This way, I can compensate for being past my prime (compensation). In fact, my mental abilities seem to have increased, for I can direct and focus them much better now (concentration). I no longer have to try my hand at everything; instead, I can prioritize and be more judicious in my choices (selection). And whatever I do, I can do it expertly and reliably (optimization). This fourfold 'know- how' (compensation, concentration, selection, optimization) is a matter of intuition, which is the result of years and years of experience — both good and bad — and which we can continue fine-tuning. Acquiring new skills can certainly complement experience, but it can never replace it. In the business world, companies would do well to draw on their older employees' wealth of experience, which they will be happy to share with their younger colleagues. In an ideal world, the younger generation's bustling creativity will be wed to their elders' circumspect prudence. If this could succeed across society, then this might help to cool down our overheated modern world and bring about a different kind of modernity.
The superior 'know-how' of the third quarter of life should not only affect everything related to work but all areas of life, particularly the way we treat ourselves and others. Shouldn't we hope that with age we might become 'masters of living', as the medieval mystic Meister Eckhart was nicknamed? Wouldn't this constitute life's very fulfillment and the true purpose of the art of living? But only those who have completed their apprenticeship accede to mastery, which is why there cannot be perfect mastery when it comes to the art of living. To the very last, life remains a learning project. We never cease having to take on board new experiences and new challenges, social shifts and technological advances. This kind of knowledge, as we well know, can never reach the point of indubitable certainty. Already the Stoic philosopher Seneca observed: "It takes a lifetime to learn how to live."
What we now have to accept are the visible signs of aging. Being a friend to oneself in this life stage means befriending the disconcerting symptoms of senescence that begin to show. In the course of the third quarter, aging is particularly noticeable in others — but what about ourselves? Our hair begins to thin and grey, the lines in our face become more pronounced, our ailments become more frequent. Our body starts feeling rusty if we don't work it out. And even though it may be a blessing to be able to alleviate the painful side effects of aging, doggedly fighting the process only deepens the lines in the warrior's face. Forming new relationships gets harder, which is why we appreciate the intimacy and familiarity of existing bonds all the more and cultivate our friendships with greater care and attention. The emotional storms of the past have blown over, life flows gently along, to the point of occasional boredom: been there, done this, nothing new under the sun.
As we turn sixty, then, we are startled into the realization that life's afternoon will soon be over and that it might be wise not to put everything off until the evening. The immortality bubble inside which we have felt safe and secure for the longest time, and which has of late started showing the occasional crack, has now irrevocably popped. Now we know our life's possibilities: we have lived them. For many years, they lay before us shrouded in fog, only gradually coming into view. Now many of them lie behind us, and we live the reality they have accrued with or without our doing. Should there be further possibilities left, now is our last chance to realize them. Certain questions become more pressing then ever: what do I want to hold on to? which doors are still open? what do I still need to do? what is important to me, and what should I no longer put off? should I completely upend my life one last time and be stressed out again? how much time do I have left? which projects are still feasible? how can I make sure that I understand a world that is so rapidly changing? do I have enough strength left for all that? and if so, for how long?
Now gelassenheit means befriending the inconspicuous little word 'still'. Its increasing frequency in our lives unmistakably points to the accelerating process of aging: "You still look good for your age!" "How fit you still are!" "How impressive that you can still do the math in your head!" "How bold of you to still be dressing like a young man!" "Are you still doing okay?" The key is not to get upset about these and similar remarks, they mean no harm; on the contrary, they are supposed to comfort, uplift and encourage. Besides, the simple truth is that even though what these remarks speak to may still be the case, it won't be the case for long. In this life stage, 'still' reigns supreme. We can still call a friend and chat with him, we can still offer an apology we feel we owe, we can still return a favor and say thank you for whatever and to whomever.
More and more frequently, we think back to the past and recall missed opportunities and painful losses, momentous encounters and opportunities taken, key situations and memorable experiences that shine more brightly now that the present appears to be growing darker. The realization that we are not as strong as we used to be might lead us to believe that life boils down to a gradual loss of strength. Yet forcing our body, mind and spirit in this stage to accomplish tasks that no longer come easy will only accelerate the depletion of whatever resources we have left. Certainly, every once in a while things will be looking up again, even over extended periods. On the whole, though, it will be more like the story of the mouse that got caught by a cat: "Things are looking up," the say the mouse as it is being dragged up the stairs and into the house.
This stage can last a long time. In affluent societies, for more people than ever before the third quarter does not at all mean the beginning of the end. For it is followed by a fourth quarter, which used to be but the tail end of the third: now, however, we transition from an agile to a fragile, accelerated senescence, which typically sets in somewhere between seventy-five and eighty. A chasm opens up between those who must now live with major disabilities and those whose radiance reaches its peak. One way or another, however, there comes a point when our abilities begin to erode, either seamlessly, or abruptly and painfully. Should we really embark on new projects now? It's over. Our versatility wanes, our possibilities plummet, until eventually only the last one is left — before disappearing in turn, even though this may take a while. What we may have once poetically imagined as the 'evening of our lives' may turn out to be a fairly prosaic affair due to all sorts of disability. Mastering them will be a challenge, as modern culture does not prepare us for them.
Now we ought to learn to slow down, to budget our resources, to be more considerate toward ourselves, perhaps to spend more time alone than we used to, review our lives and acknowledge death, which no longer looms in the distant future. Aging brings hardships that the young cannot possibly know anything about, such as finding one's way through the increasingly complex mazes of the latest technology, or overcoming as simple an obstacle as getting in and out of the bathtub, which we used to be able to do with ease.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from What We Gain As We Grow Older by Wilhelm Schmid, Michael Eskin. Copyright © 2014 Insel Verlag Berlin. Excerpted by permission of Upper West Side Philosophers, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.