Chapter Four

Am I Living the Good Life My Whole Life?

A fundamental question on the path of purposeful aging is, “What is the good life?”

With that question and related inquiries into whether we are living our conception of it, we continue the real conversation with ourselves and loved ones that enables us to age purposefully. This conversation is informed deeply by our cultural experience—by the way we grew up and the models of aging that were presented to us. At the same time, there is a universality to the patterns and practices of youth and later life, as we can see by observing traditions other than those we were raised in.

For example, in the traditional Hindu conception of life, people move through four age-based stages known as ashramas. (To be historically accurate, this model pertains only to men and mainly to the Brahmin or priestly caste, but for our purposes we can usefully apply it to everyone.)

First, there is the student (brahmacharya) stage, in which one devotes their life to study with a guru. Next comes the householder (grihastha) stage, in which one works and raises a family. Subsequently, after one’s children are grown up and have families of their own, a person moves into the “retiring to the forest” (vanaprastha) stage, in which worldly concerns about making money and pursuing pleasure become secondary to seeking spiritual liberation. Finally, near the end of one’s life, a person enters into the “renunciate” (sannyasa) stage, where traditionally one gives up all their possessions and dedicates their life entirely to spiritual pursuits.

The first two stages correspond pretty closely to how most of us in the contemporary world conceive of our lives. We first go to school and then get a job. If we’re lucky, we work in a field we’ve studied for, and if all goes according to plan, this includes a satisfying home life.

But things diverge a bit when it comes to life after a career—what is commonly called “retirement.” The contemporary conception of later life is not really a period of spiritual engagement. The more common cultural notion is that it’s a time for savoring life, a time that marks the passage from a life of work to a life of liberation, leisure, and sleeping late. Sure, there are “active agers” who take art or dance classes or volunteer, but still the focus is outward, with an emphasis on doing things and staying busy—a far cry from the idea that later life is when we ought to focus on becoming enlightened.

We might ask ourselves, though, given the less-than-ideal experience of many people in their later years, whether we might learn something from the traditional Hindu model. In particular, does it make sense to conceive of one’s late life as less of a reward for having engaged in paid work for so many years and more of an opportunity to engage in the personal work of spiritual growth? And if so, how can this exploration of our spiritual self enable us to more successfully live the good life for our whole life?

In Repacking Your Bags, we defined the good life as “living in the place you belong, with people you love, doing the right work, on purpose.” We have slightly modified that definition for later life to be “living in the place you belong, with people you love, doing spiritual work, on purpose.” How, then, are we to define “spiritual work”?

Our definition of spiritual work, as discussed earlier, is quite inclusive. It includes traditional practices like prayer, meditation, contemplation of relevant scriptures, and communing with nature, but it also comprises purposeful activities like helping others and working on behalf of a better world. The key is that it connects us to something that is larger than and beyond ourselves and is consistent with an understanding of what’s sacred. “God is one; his names and forms are many” is how the Vedantic monk and scholar Swami Vivekananda put it. We can find our way to the divine via any number of paths. It does require work—work we’re likely to have more time for in later life—but the specific details of that work are up to each of us.

The only litmus test is to ask ourselves whether the practice, whatever form it takes, is moving us toward a closer connection to what we take to be sacred. This doesn’t, by the way, commit us to believing in God; it simply is based on a more universal recognition that life is a sacred mystery and that the embrace of this mystery is an undeniable component of what it truly means to be human.

Unpacking the Good Life

One of the most enduring questions in the history of philosophy is “What is the good life?” The best-known ancient Greek philosophers—Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle—all took it on, as did Stoics like Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus; and the question dominates other philosophical traditions, such as those of India and China, as well. We even weighed in with our own thoughts on the matter in our first book, Repacking Your Bags. It’s a question that’s endlessly intriguing across time and place; and with more than 7 billion people on the planet, there are probably 6.999 billion different answers to it.

Part of this diversity of views is due to the difficulty of getting agreement on what a good life is. For some, it’s pleasure. For others, wealth. Still others reckon the good life in terms of power or popularity. Aristotle rejected all three of these common conceptions in favor of a view that essentially held the good life to be the most virtuous life. Plato argued, more or less, that the life of philosophical contemplation was best. In Vedic and Buddhist traditions, the good life is one that results in spiritual liberation.

Whatever the definition, one thing most everyone agrees on is that a good life is desirable. No one, except perhaps masochists, wants to live a bad life (and for masochists, a bad life would be a good life, so perhaps there are no exceptions).

As we unpack the good life, particularly in later years, in order to live the good life for our whole life, some common themes emerge. Paramount among these is living a life that sets us free—however we conceive of freedom. This results in a life that brings self and service to life. Crucial to this is a felt sense of compassion, of wanting to make a contribution to something larger than oneself, rather than feeling that it’s something one ought to do. Purpose is a verb; it is a path and a practice.

A good life in later life is one whose waning moments are not wasted on mundanities. Instead, it focuses more on what really matters and at the same time contributes to our own growth and fulfillment. Such a life requires self-awareness. Living a good life in later life is an inner journey, a path that leads to finding our highest self in the act of serving others.

How to Worry Well

When Richard speaks from the podium, he often makes the point that “three Ms”—money, medicine (health), and meaning (purpose)—are equally important to living a good life in later life. Most of his audience—and society in general—tends to fixate on the first “M,” however.

Richard has observed time and again that the number one question occupying people’s minds about aging is, “Will I have enough money to live the ‘good life’ you speak of?” Moreover, he’s also seen, just as often, that the number one reason people give for not living the good life late in life is that they don’t have enough money to do so.

This is real. But it’s wrong.

Money is essential, of course. And not having enough to pay one’s bills—especially, for older folks, medical bills—is a serious problem for far too many. But for the majority of us, it’s the perception of “enough” that plays a bigger role in the degree to which we experience the good life in later life. It’s not how much we have, really; it’s how we feel about how much we have and how that affects the choices we make.

We’ve all known people who have money but are unhappy; and more to the point, we’ve all known people who don’t have money but are happy.

So, what’s the point? Worry about money is part of living a longer life. Living on a fixed income might make us feel anxious. Seeing the mountain (relatively speaking) of one’s finances steadily decrease each month toward a molehill can be a source of understandable concern. Five minutes into any conversation about money with men and women over 60, and almost inevitably fears of homelessness and abandonment emerge.

The path of purposeful aging is not to deny these concerns; it’s not about “Don’t worry, be happy.” It’s about how to “worry well.” To worry well means, first, to be clear about our vision of the good life, and second, to be clear about how much is enough to live that vision.

And yet, it’s commonplace for people to believe they need more in order to be happy. Because money is so emotionally charged, lack of money is often the first line of defense to explain why we can’t make changes to our lives or why we’re not living what we believe to be the good life. It can be a convenient avoidance mechanism, a way to make excuses to ourselves for not being satisfied with the life that we’re living.

As we’ve mentioned earlier, the vanaprastha stage of life, those years of deeper spiritual inquiry that follow our lives as working people, is one in which acquisition of things becomes less important than acquiring a deeper understanding of connection to the sacred and the divine. While contemporary life doesn’t typically afford us the ability to retire to the forest for spiritual study with the sages, it can be useful to keep this model in mind in later life. We may do well to reel in our desires for more stuff and instead adopt an attitude of finding satisfaction from within.

True wealth, as the old adage goes, is not about having what we want; it’s about wanting what we have.

Most of us, for most of our lives, have accepted the principle “Time is money.” Thus, we seek efficiency, productivity, and action as means to greater riches. But in later life, the equation changes to “Money is time.” Our most valuable currency is the time we have left to spend. The simple fact that people will spend fortunes to extend their lives even briefly is proof of time’s value.

Spending our precious currency—time—in ways that are meaningful and fulfilling is what makes us feel wealthy. Being able to give of ourselves to others—family, friends, strangers in need—is what makes that time meaningful. The more of ourselves that we give away—the more generous our actions—the richer we become.

The Native American peoples of the Pacific Northwest had a tradition known as the potlatch, which was a ceremonial distribution of property and gifts to affirm or reaffirm social status. A tribal leader’s wealth was reckoned in terms of how much they were willing and able to give away. In later life, we may do well to adopt and adapt this tradition as our own. Instead of material wealth, the gifts of ourselves that we bestow upon others—our lessons learned, our kindness, and our gratitude, for example—are the true markers of our prosperity.

There are any number of ways to communicate values and life lessons from one generation to the next, apart from the simple practice of sharing them in person. Many people have used ethical wills, legacy letters, or living legacy videos as a means to share their messages.

Thus, the question “How much is enough?” is more easily answered: as much of ourselves as we are able and willing to give.

Purpose and a Paycheck

The story is commonplace: a life of energy and engagement in the first half, followed by decline and disengagement in the second half. You know them: older, feeling invisible and irrelevant. As Chris Farrell, author and nationally syndicated economics contributor, says, “They landed in limbo after a lifetime of achievement. Millions of older adults are living in financial limbo. Financial anxiety is not just a boomer phenomenon. Gen Xers and millennials are not going to have pensions either. And they’re going to have to work for 60 or 70 years!”

Yet, according to Farrell, the core of personal finance is not money. The foundation of prosperity in later life is exploring our values and learning how we want to live our life. And the word that best captures that exploration of values is purpose.

In his 2019 book Purpose and a Paycheck: Finding Meaning, Money, and Happiness in the Second Half of Life, Farrell recalls the wisdom of the legendary writer and broadcaster Studs Turkel on how important a sense of purpose is to people in all walks of life. In his 1974 best seller Working: People Talk about What They Do All Day and How They Feel about What They Do, Turkel interviewed people who recounted the hardships, disappointments, joys, and satisfactions they experienced in their daily labors. He chronicled the connection that arises from work—the dignity in a job well done and the sense of community that comes from working together with others.

Turkel summarized what he learned: “It is about search, too, for daily meaning as well as daily bread, for recognition as well as cash, for astonishment rather than torpor.”

Chris Farrell similarly summarizes what he has learned as a journalist interviewing countless people over decades of work: “The search for purpose and a paycheck is widely shared. We have different goals, values, and talents, but we share the desire to know that what we are doing matters.” He advises that “wise financial planning is grounded in finding a purpose. Financial planning is best thought of as money-management to support the purpose journey. A financial plan is a road map to help you achieve your goals.” Primary among those goals for everyone is connection with others.

He goes on to clarify: “We put enormous value on things, when what we truly value are experiences. ‘What is my “number” to retire on?’ is the wrong way think about it. First, ask ‘What is it I really want to do?’ then figure out the money component. If you’re going from money to what you want to do, you’ll never get there. Start with what you truly value. Also, know what you don’t want to do. With aging comes the experience of being able to clearly say ‘no.’” “No,” it turns out, is a complete sentence.

Farrell advises that a critical ingredient to add to the personal finance mix is real conversation. You need to talk about money and purpose with closest friends and committed listeners. He also advocates for the “unexpected meeting” that can shift one’s mindset about new possibilities from doom and gloom to “I could do that!”

Opening ourselves up to meeting new people can come from volunteering, from joining a book club or study group, or from leisure activities that bring us into real conversation with others. “The combination of giving and conversation allows for the kind of intentional lifestyle experimentation and thoughtful work transitions that turn purpose into reality,” Farrell says.

And as Farrell’s work reminds us, it’s never too late to do so; in fact, there’s no better time than the second half of life.