It was a personal reference to Aesop’s fable about the old man, the boy and donkey. Follow the  link if you’re not familar with it.

I put it there because I was painfully (and daily!) aware that 300 different people had exactly 300 different expectations of me.

The “donkey” for me was the things I was trying to achieve in my ministry. There was my dreams, my hopes, my goals, my values… and then there was those of the “crowd”. Now in a position like a pastor’s, you’d think you’re basically there to do what everyone “needs” you to do in the moment. Well, there’s a place for that – the crisis. But most of the time, most of the people I served weren’t in crisis (even if they thought they were!).

And I began to go nuts trying to please all of the people all of the time. And the stuff I did well, the stuff that bore fruit in people’s lives and in mine, the stuff I was made to do … it all fell by the wayside.

Until one day I reread this fable again and Aesop spoke to me across the centuries. I got clear on what I was meant to do, what my focus was and what my values were. And to the best of my ability, I followed them.

Eventually that lead to me leaving professional ministry and launching my own life coaching practise – where I’ve been far more fruitful. But even before that, I was feeling better defined and more present for the real crises and needs that my talents could serve.

So. What’s your donkey? What are people telling you to do with it?

What do you WANT to do with it?

So do it.

I had an epiphany in the shower this morning. (Alright stop that laughing. It’s not a euphemism). I guess I have a lot of epiphanies in the shower; it seems to be a place that’s relaxing enough to have them. (I still hear sniggering, people. Look the word up in the dictionary; I’m trying to be serious here).

I’ve always thought of myself as someone who loves the New. New what? New anything! New innovation, new music, new clothes, new ideas, new movies, new tech, new foods, new discoveries, new books…

This morning I found myself thinking back to a series of books I’d read in the 1980s and really enjoyed. I’ve forgotten the names of the author and the books, but I began thinking “If I could just get a copy of those books and read them again!”

Then the question hit me like a blast of cold water: “When did I begin looking backward instead of forward?” When did I start longing for ‘old’ experiences instead of new ones?

The answer is sometime in the last 2 years. Suddenly I would hear an old song on the radio and think things like:

• Dang! Why did I have to go and lose my Police albums when I moved back to Melbourne?
• Man, I haven’t heard that song since I was 16! Where can I get a copy?
• Hmm, I’ve never actually owned any Roxy Music albums; I should get a copy of Avalon.

Or I’d think of old books I once enjoyed and kick myself for selling them to a 2nd-hand bookstore in 1990. Or (on a more sombre note) I’d remember somone whom I’d wronged in the 1980s – and there were a few – and wish I could find them to say sorry.

It must be mid-life. You approach (or hit) 40 and you start to reassess. The past catches up with you. New things don’t always have the same novelty or hold the same emotional resonance for you as things from your youth.

Ironically, when I want to reconnect with, recover the details of, or purchase “something” from the past, the very first place I go looking is the internet – which (arguably) fits into the NEW category.

• I go to online music stores or LAST-FM for access to classic or obscure songs
• I track down the name and author of an obscure sci-fi book by searching fansites and forums, then put in a request with Bent Books or Booktopia
• I google search for that long-lost friend or wronged-acquaintance, or look through Facebook or Linked-In.

So I reassure myself that I’m not going senile after all!!

• What do you find yourself looking back and longing for?
• Did this begin happening when you hit 40? Earlier? Later?

We were talking in the last post about this experience for 35-55 year olds of feeling numb, succumbing to the status quo, losing their edge, giving up on trying for an ideal life or world. I joked in the comments about future sociologists dubbing this experience Midlife Disaffected Syndrome – a better phrase (I thought I knew what disaffected meant, but a quick check in the dictionary showed me I didn’t!) might be Midlife What’s-For-Dinner Syndrome. I dunno; you got a better one?

To overcome this numbness, I see people in midlife make some questionable decisions. Some justify it. Some grow to like it.

Some return to the risk- and thrill-taking of youth as if the answers lie there:

“Well, at least I’m feeling something now!” 

      “And your kids now think you’re an idiot. Congratulations…”

[Hm. Was that a little harsh?]

Anyway, I reckon the cure to the numbness is fivefold – and I don’t mean to be simplistic here, I’m just making a call on what I see at this moment:

1. remind yourself of what you once wanted life to be 
2. re-enage with a sense of true purpose,
3. revive some of the dreams,
4. uncover the negative values and even wounds dealt in your childhood and work through them,
5. seek greater depth in relationships (rather than greater thrills)

Care to comment?

Sitting with a coaching client yesterday, we got talking about one of the unhappy truths of midlife: the experience of becoming old enough to not strive anymore, of losing your passion (like your car keys), of giving up the Dream, of settling for the status quo (no not that crappy old band!). 

Not everyone experiences this, but sadly it happens to enough people to be called common.

One of my friends described it thus: when we were young we threw ourselves into everything. It was like driving the car full speed, taking the corners wide, running red lights. At that age everything is thrilling: relationships, career, sports, setting up home, making the dream happen. But driving like that, when you hit the brick wall, when the relationship comes undone or there is a career setback (etc) then …

…CRASH!

You really get knocked about, sometimes even thrown through the window of the car!

Usually you pick yourself up and find a way to try something else. And yet while you can look & act functional, something’s been taken away: a little bit of trust in others, a little bit of your shine, a little piece of hope, a slice of self belief, a bit of your faith, a piece of courage, generosity, openness, adventurousness.

A few of these crashes and you drive differently…

Now at 35, 40, 45, 50 years old – we drive the car of life more sedately, more carefully. We travel the same well worn roads day in, day out. We barely notice the road anymore, responding unconsciously to well-known traffic signals and conditions.  We never venture intentionally onto unknown territory and avoid it when we can.

As young people we looked over at those in mid-life who were rusting out and said “That will never be me!”. The thought we avoid having now is “Oh, crap, I’m one of them.”

We have settled for “numb”.

It might seem like I am criticizing people experiencing this. I’m not. It’s not failure or weakness to discover this is the truth of your circumstance.

But it is sad. 

It’s also an opportunity to truly begin living again.

Because it’s at this stage of life that we are (more than ever) capable of taking giant leaps toward our dreams and making them reality, of bonding deeply with other human beings, of repairing the damage done childhood & adolescence, of making profound contribution to the planet.