The 60's were the emancipation years for Africa and those lucky enough to be educated at the time were suddenly granted an opportunity for leadership.
But I digress...
There was a time when the official retirement age in Kenya was 55 years old. The life expectancy was about 49 years old in 1964 when I was born, so its likely that most workers did not live long enough to retire and get a pension. Things haven't progressed much. The current (2022) life expectancy is still under 70, close to 67 years old depending on which source you use, so the current retirement age of 65 isn't helping much.
But again, I digress...
I do feel older. I feel that I've done my share of work. I actually feel as though I should have retired by now. My thirties and forties were super busy. And as I reflect, I wonder what all the rushing was all about. At the time, in my various jobs, the entire planet revolved around what I did. Nothing anyone else was doing was of any importance. I've run close to 30 full marathons in my life, and I'm tired.
But 58 feels good. While I couldn't sit still for five minutes without rushing here and there, I feel so good just sitting on a chair, in peace and quiet, meditating. My mind's still switching channels quickly, but I don't feel the urgency to run and get anything done so quickly. I'm more concerned with doing it right.
I'm not religious in any sense, but I have a sense of wonder, a feeling of the numinous, of awe and wonder at nature. That mankind has been able to get out of the trees and manage to shape the environment to his (and her) will is mind boggling. People are super smart. And many of them are way smarter than I will ever become.
And that's OK.
My small little corner of the planet feels comfortable, and knowing that I will only enjoy it for a little while yet, makes it all that more comfortable. Everything is amazing. My computers. My pens. The paper that I write on. The books I'm surrounded by. The people I meet. The walks I take. The water I drink. The air I breathe. The exercise I do. I'm lucky.
I feel that I must do something personal, truly my own in the next couple of years before I hit super 60. And of course I'll get there. My hero, Ed Whitlock, ran a sub-3 hour marathon at age 73. Now, if I can do one last marathon, before age 65, and make it count, wouldn't that be something? And at the same time, finish that darned book I've been writing since I was about 40. That must be a record. Even if I get to 300 pages of semi-interesting material, that's over 7,000 days to write 300 pages, which is about 23 days to write a page. Which is less than 3 lines per day. Believe me, by the fifth year, I'd forgotten the start of the story.
And that's OK.
Because the many shorter stories still count. And my critics are most welcome, because I won't stop.
It's a little past midnight as I write this, it was supposed to be a simple reflection on this milestone. As I remember how lucky I am to be here, now. And to be thankful that I am fit and healthy. And today (since it's already the day), I will spend time thinking of this. That will be my gift to myself. To engage in silent and peaceful meditation. And to be thankful.
Cheers!
