Adolescence. Again.

“. . . I’m the bear standing in the woods with a bullseye on his chest . . .”

My late sixties present me with the most ridiculous angst I’ve felt since I was sixteen. I am no longer a child of forty, and I am not an adult of eighty. Thus, I am an “adolescent” again. Why does it come up now? It dawned on me (after my 50th—there, I said it—high school reunion, for God’s sake) that at this age, we are older, but we are fighting oldness. Gray hair is dyed, colored, and maybe highlighted; straightened and softened to disguise the crinkly, wiry, dry mass that passes for hair. Why don’t I have the soft, pretty kind like my mom did? Dunno. I’m sure it’s because my hair, an enemy of over six decades, does this because it has its own devious mind. My hair knows exactly what irks me.

KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERAI have a target on my forehead. I feel like I’m the bear standing in the woods with a bullseye on his chest if you’ve ever seen that cartoon. It’s the target for anti-aging marketers to spot me from 10,000 feet. They don’t need for me to wear the target, though. It’s written in the sneaky wrinkles around my eyes and mouth, and the other ill-mannered houseguests with stupid sunglasses that appeared on my neck and cheeks one day when I wasn’t paying attention. They didn’t have the courtesy to leave.

So, it’s not just the cosmetics products folks; it’s also the dermatologists and estheticians that swear their methods for finding the fountain of youth surpass the others’. For all the Botox treatments, eyelifts, ear-lifts (yes, they have those), and nose jobs, there are face creams and treatments to use between or instead of the unnerving, daunting “cures.” (I would share my chemical peel photos with you, but you’d probably run screaming for the Halloween bar. Yes, I had one. Why? Because I’m still in my adolescence, of course, experimenting as adolescents do.)

Since we’re talking, I thought I might share more nice perspectives to cheer you up. You may be happily getting Botox, chemical peels, and other fine facial procedures to try to fool the calendar, but I’m going to burst your bubble. Are you sitting down? Here goes: There are some telltale signs of advancing age that cannot be removed. As one of my “good” friends said, “You just have to look at someone’s hands to see if they’re old.” Thanks. Thanks so much. I needed that. I have tried to hold my hands above my elbows during pictures to keep from having those lovely blue veins pop out on the back of my hands. Sometimes, though, this is not a good strategy. As in when you’re playing the piano. Or maybe you’re doing a cooking demonstration or giving a knitting lesson. (People still knit. By hand. They do.)

More perspectives: (Spoiler alert.) Hanging, crinkly skin. Yes. Even though we go to the gym, do our due-diligence with weights, on machines, and at endless classes, we are stuck with crinkly skin that hangs off our healthy, osteoporosis-free skeletons if we’re lucky. Yes, we put on lotion. Yes, we tone and stretch. We are limber from yoga. Our lungs are aerobically healthy. Our butts are holding their own underneath. However, the skin that keeps the rest of us in has an un-ironed look about it.

So, when you’re a teenager, you’re dealing with zits, braces, and big ears. The difference is that as a teenager, the zits eventually disappear, the braces come off, and somewhere along the way you grow into your ears. As I age, my wrinkles will not disappear. In fact, they will multiply. Like rabbits. My teeth will get thinner. And my ears AND nose, longer. My hands? More gnarly. (Great word, right?)

What? Get over myself. This is a first world problem, you say? Well, yes, but it’s real to me. Adolescence. Again. Merde! I didn’t like my teen years when I was experiencing them, and I thought I was done. I’m back in them again. And I’d like to think I’m above it all! “I got this,” I say to my face in the mirror, the unrelenting mirror. “Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who is that ancient person in the shawl?” The mirror is no help. No help at all. Her best advice is to turn off the lights. Would that all rooms were dark!

I look around me at the people with gray hair. I compare. Oh, that’s dumb. At least I’m not that old, I say to myself. But my next thought is: I will be there soon. I saw a young woman today. OMG. “I used to look like that,” I say. Well, that’s nonsense. I NEVER looked like THAT. Who am I kidding? She was model beautiful. Why do I make this comparison? This thing called aging —even healthy aging, where I’m dancing flamenco and walking miles and doing yoga —is taking too much of my mental energy. It robs me of creativity. It stifles my serenity.

So as with my teens, I know that eventually, the between-ness will pass. I can achieve the next stage and relax into it—gracefully, happily, peacefully. That makes sense. If we fight the force of nature, we tend to carry an aura of angry (I hear it’s a mustard color), which by itself can make us look older and feel worse. (Who wants to look like mustard?)

I suggest that you read Atul Gawande’s Being Mortal. It’s an homage to living well even as it describes the terminal nature of our lives. We are lucky if we get to experience old age before we die. Dr. Gawande says it better, page 141. “The battle of being mortal is the battle to maintain the integrity of one’s life—to avoid becoming so diminished or dissipated or subjugated that who you are becomes disconnected from who you were or who you want to be.” I’m going to embrace the idea of maintaining my integrity by defining “a good day” in my terms and attempting to attain that. Every day. I will not worry about adolescence. Terrible twos. Teens. Twenties. Middle age. They’re stages, each with their challenges. This aging thing is just another stage. Maintaining my integrity is the goal. That’s all.

The Project Lifestyle (TPL)

We all voted and it’s unanimous. The Project Lifestyle (TPL) is a means to sanity in an insane world.

  • What is it?
  • Who uses it?
  • When?
  • Where?
  • Why does it work?
  • How does it work?

What is TPL?

Question MarksLife is a project. Webster’s defines project as: “an individual or collaborative enterprise that is carefully planned and designed to achieve a particular aim.” Hah. No more needs be said, right? We are born as individuals. Most of us collaborate along the way… especially at the beginning. The planning may or may not be done carefully, but still, the aim is to live, somehow, and get to the end. Death. There is nothing in the life project that says we need to get there in one piece even. Nor does it say how long the project will take, either in the definition of project nor in the definition of life. We’re good so far.

The Project Lifestyle as defined here will be one that accepts that each undertaking, each life event, each age, party, move, educational rung, job, business, relationship (yes, those, too), and just about anything you name has a project nature to it. Why I like the project lifestyle: There’s an end. That’s why they’re so cool. Start here. End there. Like Monopoly or something. Closure. Relief. It is over. The end, however, does not say that the project was necessarily good. No. It does say that it existed, and that it has been completed — good or bad, it’s done. That’s why people like hobbies, usually. In. Out. Done.

Who Uses TPL?

Everyone uses the Project Lifestyle. They just don’t know it. Or, they don’t know that it’s got a name, mostly because I just made it up. Anyway, the people that gain the most from it are those that realize it exists and capitalize on the good space it creates in one’s psyche. Parents use it. There is the baby project, the cute years between three and ten, and then there’s the dreaded teenager project. These projects all come to an end. Thank goodness. Then there’s the empty nester project, the retirement project, and the doddering, forgetful project spent mostly looking for stuff that they just had a minute ago.

Mini projects are tucked into each of the parent projects above: birthdays, discipline projects, organization projects, PTA projects, lessons and so forth. Adults with or without children have things called jobs. Those are projects. Entrepreneurs have projects. Retirees have projects: the figuring-out-how-to-retire project and then the-deciding-what-the-heck-to-do-while-retired project based on how well you did the job project or the how-to-fund-your-retirement project. Politicians, plumbers, pediatricians. All have projects.

When Do You Use TPL?

The Project Lifestyle can be used at any life stage. Early on (kids have projects like tying shoes and later learning Pokémon). Teenagers have projects: finding a boyfriend or girlfriend, hanging out, learning to drive, or the increasingly expensive and difficult getting-into-college project. Yes. But when the letters come back, you’re in OR not. The project of getting in is over. Then it’s the getting through-college-in-one-piece project. Then it’s the finding-the-job project. Then it’s the finding-spouse or finding-house project. Or not.

Each project begins and ends. That’s why so many people like their hobbies. They’re little projects that get done a little at a time, but they get done, and people are happy from the result. David Allen of “Getting Things Done” fame says people often don’t start projects because they’re too big. Yes there’s that. So the life project is an amorphous thing that Clutterhappens to us if we let it, and often there’s no formula or system to it. The unplanned life project is usually not very satisfying. The David Allen secret is in having projects be a series of steps, so that the question isn’t “How do I make a frictionless freeway?” (which would likely put anyone’s mind in a dither) but rather ask: “What’s the first step?” For instance simply answer the question, “What is friction?” Then, “What’s the next step?” Answer the question, “Why would a frictionless freeway be cool?” And so forth.

Where Can You Use TPL?

At a table, in a stable; in a room, on a broom. In the air, on a stair. You can ‘project’ anywhere.


Why Do Projects Work?

To have one big long, blobby, unending, winding, circuitous road with no signs gets you nowhere fast. Plus it makes you nuts. Projects are great. They have lids. They’re contained. They begin. They’re (hopefully) organized and get more so with practice! With luck, projects and the tasks in them are prioritized so the more important ones get done first. OR at least they get started first, so momentum is now shoveling snow from the path, and progress is being made.

So there are actually people that have degrees in project management from the Project Management Institute. You don’t need a degree, though, unless you want a career in it. Otherwise, everyday people can adopt The Project Lifestyle and reap the benefits. It’s a question of starting. Start one. Start another and another. Then finish the first one. Then the second and start another. BUT FINISH.

Or consciously quit, but don’t abandon. Don’t let things die. Kill the unfulfilling project consciously: With a hatchet. A broom. A hammer. Be sure you want it gone. Or finish it. Visit the projects list and the action steps on the various projects often. If there’s one that never moves from visit to visit, consider a resounding, meaningful, ceremonial death.

How Do You Start a Project Lifestyle? Buy David Allen’s Book, Getting Things Done. Or buy other how to books. Read and listen to books written about and by people you admire. Seth Godin has several books on powering through and staying in. He also visits conscious quitting.

Projects rock. They’ll save your sanity. And that’s a good thing.

The Business of Belief

I have just read The Business of Belief by Tom Asacker. Who knew there could be so much wisdom in such a small book? At 121 pages, it’s a quick read, and yet, the profoundness of each entry made me want to read it again. And again.  So I did.

Here are some quotes:

  • “Say no to short-term comfort producing activities, and say yes to fear, passion, and leadership.”
  • It’s a simple fact that if you Google your passion, there will probably be thousands of entries of people who have done what you want to do. FUGGEDABOUTIT. Asacker says, “…the real risk isn’t found in the data. It’s the risk of not fully living during our one trip around the track. It’s the risk of regret. So ignore it.”
  • “We all become the stories we tell ourselves.”

Tell yourself a great story, and your mind and your actions will start to believe it. Another trite but effective way of putting it is: Act as if. I would like to hear your reactions.  How have you changed your fear quotient lately? Is your passion for your current life a 7 on a scale of 1-10? Or is it a 10? Oh, heck. I hope it’s not a 3!

I’m hovering around 8, and I’m trying for 9, maybe 10.  How about you?2013-10-15 23.56.12