OOPS #13: Wildflowers and Warm Eggs
As we grow older, many of us begin to think differently about time — not simply how much of it we have left, but what it means to use it well. In this reflection, I explore the gradual shift from a life driven by busyness and usefulness towards one that also makes space for joy, attention, connection and the ordinary pleasures of everyday life.
The amazing Gill Phillips from Whose Shoes turns 70 this week. We celebrated early by recording a podcast together about how we are both navigating this new landscape of older age. Gill is still working pretty much full time, changing the world as she goes. I mostly work on a voluntary basis now, with rather more flexibility in my days.
The idea was that, being a few years ahead of Gill, I might have some useful tips about how best to traverse our seventies. But of course, when the microphones switched on, I couldn’t think of a single tip. Instead, we found ourselves having a lively and stimulating conversation about the whole business of getting older, with a few unexpected twists and diversions along the way.
At one point, I found myself talking about mortality. Retirement brought the end of my life suddenly into sharper focus. I realised, with a slight jolt, that my timeline for adventures was shorter than I had somehow imagined. Hopefully Jack and I still have ten good years of travelling ahead of us — though perhaps fewer if illness swoops in. I still want to help change the world too, but time now feels more pressing than it once did.
I worried afterwards that this might all sound rather morbid. But it doesn’t feel morbid to me. It feels realistic — and oddly clarifying. More like a call to make the most of every moment that remains. Wasting time seems faintly absurd once you properly understand that it is finite.
The question, of course, is what “making the most of our time” actually means.
As Gill and I talked, I realised how much I have changed as I’ve grown older. I have always been driven to make good use of my time. That drive fuelled a busy career setting up charities and not-for-profits which, in different ways, created more choice and better local support for people wanting to live their own lives. It was also the mainspring of our busy family life as we supported Laura, Rosie and Chris towards independence, careers and families of their own.
When I retired, I spent six months trying to recreate my purposeful working life — and another six months dismantling it again as I realised I had somehow become busy without joy.
For most of my life, making good use of time meant being productive, useful, effective. It meant building organisations, solving problems, supporting people, making things happen. I still value all of that deeply. But I think I am slowly learning that a life well lived is not measured only by how busy or useful we are.
In the life I have gradually reconstructed, there is still a place for trying to change the world — with WIGO perhaps one of the main fruits of that — alongside loving family and friends and travelling while we still can. But there is also a new place for paying attention to the world around me and actively seeking moments of joy.
Walking the dogs. Noticing the seasons changing. Spotting tiny wildflowers hidden in the undergrowth along our disused railway line. Collecting warm eggs from the chicken coop.
These, too, now seem to me an excellent way to make the most of my time.
