THIS THING ABOUT TURNING "60" AND CHRONOLOGICAL TIME!

Two centuries ago, old age was sixty or less; last century making it to sixty-five was considered an achievement.  My da made it three days past his fiftieth birthday, dying on January 3, 1958.  I became less enamored of chronological time after that, as I realized he feared no man physically, but was afraid of life psychologically, and carried that distinction with great courage to the end, dying of multiple myeloma, then a rare form of leukemia.  Sam Walton of Wal Mart died of the same disease.

 

My wife, Betty Ann, turned sixty on January 17, the happiest most engaged person I have ever known in life, a person who has never lived in chronological time, but has always thrived in psychological time.  Through her I have learned psychological time is real, and chronological time is an aberration.  Permit me to explain.

 

Psychological time is a commitment to the moment, a decision to do this or that, now, not later, and to thrive with zest in that moment as if it is your last.  Psychological time is about living; chronological time is about existing.

 

Consequently, when living in psychological time, it is all about giving, while chronological time is being always obsessed with getting.

 

Psychological time is about "being" in the moment, while chronological time is about "becoming" something or someone else in the future.

 

Psychological time is living comfortably and happily in the present, whereas chronological time is either nostalgic for the past or anxious about the future.

 

Psychological time is about what we can do "now," whereas chronological time is about avoiding doing it now, and putting it off until tomorrow.  Those living in psychological time, therefore, don't hesitate to contribute when a need arises outside the purview of the norm.

 

Paradoxically, we only live in psychological time but often are obsessed with chronological time, as that is our culture, our programming, and often our fate.  So, by the time we are sixty, if we are lucky, we recognize the difference.

 

My wife, Betty, has taught me this, and so I wrote her this poem for her sixtieth birthday:

 

At 60

    The sky is bluer, the days are brighter, the seas calmer, the horizons closer, friends and family warmer, and the past and future have found comfort in the present.

At 60

    Love and life are attractions, nights and days subtractions, friends and enemies contractions, careers and companies per tractions, wants and needs distractions.

At 60

     Moods and memories, angers and passions, dreams and dreads, fears and longings, loves and hates simmer with the wisdom of time's smile.

At 60

    Joys and sorrows, knowledge and ignorance, degrees and pedigrees, positions and perks fade into the afternoon company as aged old friends.

At 60

    Parents and grandparents, partners and mates, children and grandchildren, genealogies and theologies, populations and peoples connect to hold new meanings.

At 60

    What was and will be, what could and can be, what changes and stays the same, what flows and does not fail to interrupt sleep.

At 60

    After a lifetime of laugher and cheer, enlightenment and endeavor, some ups and some downs, promotions and commotions, loves and losses, if you are Betty Ann, best in the land, you retain your beauty inside to match your glow outside, as you are the sun, the moon, the stars, and the earth to your husband, and the love of his life.

 

Happy Birthday with love,

 

Jim

 

Postscript: twelve of my thirteen books I have written with you, but until I sat down and wrote this poem did I realize that all these efforts are about love in psychological time.  This is what you have taught me.