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Our lives unfold in a period of time between our birth and our death. At some point we begin to let go of the part of us that does not live forever, and start being what remains. Here lies the shapeless border between the first and second halves of our lives.

In the first half of life, we develop our survival apparatus, both physical and mental. We begin to crawl, then walk then run. We learn to speak and develop our rationale. By the time we are 20 years old if not before, in our period of human history, many of us are doing something in exchange for money. We acquire skills, some work related, others not. We are mostly too busy to observe that the functioning machine we embody is not who we are, its an operating system.

The wonderful Fr Richard Rohr likes to suggest, and I’m paraphrasing, that ‘only with great love or great suffering is the breakthrough made’. Fr Richard has written a wonderful book, Falling Upward, that first got me pondering the first and second halves of life. Our modern world has us in a fever of getting stuff done. Even relaxing paradoxically requires great effort. Falling in love, the death of a loved one, becoming a parent, some personal catastrophe…these are the events that bring us face to face with our selves.

It happens when it happens, and to varying extents in each one of us. If we’re lucky we’re the Grateful Dead! Mostly we circle the pool, or tread the edge of the ocean, dipping our toes one after another into it, occasionally throwing ourselves into it and swimming but keeping the shore in sight.

But we all make progress, despite ourselves. We hear the clock tick, we breathe in and out, grateful for each breath and heartbeat. We learn to take our time; what’s the hurry? We take the achievement drive down a gear or two. Although we enjoy good company, we grow increasingly comfortable with solitude.

I don’t suppose I’ll ever in this life completely let go of this false self, the first half life, wildly achieved persona. I am grateful I can increasingly see it for what it is, recognise my fondness for and even pride in it. This frees me to begin becoming acquainted with what remains.

copyright March 2024 George Bacon