This week I watched a video of a talk given by Jeff Sandefer, one of the authors of "A Field Guide to the Hero's Journey," (as opposed to those on a fool's errand).
Mr. Sandefer is an amazing man. He is a brilliant man, educated with many others who have risen to high recognition in different fields of business.
One of the assignments given to Acton School of Business students is to interview role models, three of which must be over the age of 60. As one who is nearing that age in a few years. Those over 60 have all said things similar to the following three questions:
1. Have I contributed something meaningful?
This question relates to finding our passion. Never stopping that search. I feel that I can look back and witness my meaning in life and what I've contributed to. I have always shared my gifts and talents with others. If someone has needed assistance, or a meal, or a resource, a lesson, I have done all within my power to help them. Through this, I've developed skills of my own. Each time I've helped, I've learned something invaluable or built a bond. I've been the recipient of the kindness of others. It is often hard to put my hands on what my "passion" is. I think my passion is humankind. I think I am personally expanded by what I gain from reaching out to others. I hope that others would say I have contributed something meaningful to them. As I move forward, in an older age, I believe (or at least hope), that I can continue to develop and grow. I hope I can find new passions and use them for the good of others.
2. Am I a good person?
This pertains to setting moral boundaries. What are those things I will never do? What are those things I will ALWAYS do? Each of us must make those distinctions. I have set my own personal ethical guardrails based on the teachings of my parents and other family members, my husband's advice and guidance and the teachings of my church and religious leaders and heroes. We see many n the world who either never set up those guidelines or have stepped over them. This often comes slowly, small step by small step until they can no longer even see the line. I remember hearing a speaker talk about holding tightly onto the iron rod (a staple symbol in my religion, but I think others understand it, as well). Sometimes, people will slowly loosen their grasp, claiming, "I'm still holding on!" They they see the soft grass, next to the path and think, "I'll be more comfortable walking there. I can still hold one with one finger." Then they are not holding on, but justify it because they aren't far...they can still SEE the rod. Soon the are far way, thinking, "My friends and family are still holding on, I'm not far, I can run back any time." You know the rest of the story.
That first step away from our moral guidelines is critical. It takes great courage and often strength to make the decision NOT to step away, but this is what we'll see when we look back at the end of our lives. What was that moment of decision, how did I decide, and where did it lead me? Even now, I look back a lot. I look at where my decisions have led me--those good and bad. I know that I will continue to look back but always want to look forward to the ultimate place those things will lead. I want to be in the right place, at the right time, feeling joyous at those things that will lead me to exaltation.
3. Who did I love and who loved me?
Who we surround ourselves with is critical. I was once given the great advice that I should choose my friends wisely, that those around me will help me keep my covenants or will help me break them. There have been times in my life when I haven't chosen wisely. When I finally awoke to the real wisdom in this advice, my life got better. My choices to surround myself with a loving family and friends who were going in the direction I wanted to go have made all the difference. As I look forward to being with my deceased son and daughter across the veil, I am able to make better choices. I have been able to winnow down my life to those things that really matter. I know, personally, that the family is the essential building block of eternity and that the hugs of a grandson and the final clasp of a young adult son matter more than anything else in the world. I have learned the lesson of what matters most the hard way, but I think God that I have learned it.
So, as I head into the next 20 or 30 years, I believe there is much more to learn and do. I will keep these three questions in mind.
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