Humans ripen in 19 years. At age 19, barring biological challenges or excessively deleterious conditioning, our ferocious hormonal transformation gives rise to a strong, energized, enthusiastic pre-adult. At 19, we eat more, love more, feel more, and crave more than at any other age. At 19, we feel invincible.
At 19, ego imprints genetically preprogramed feelings of invulnerability and limitless possibility onto our self-image to create a filter of false perception. If not quickly dissolved, that filter can skew our choices and deflect our aim away from more prudent pathways.
If self-perception must congeal eventually, why not at age 19? Because 19 isn’t just a stopover on a fascinating, ever-changing trail of aging. No, due to the confluence of physical, emotional, genetic, and cultural forces that converge on typical 19-year-olds, 19 has become more concept than milestone – it has become a set of emotional and behavioral parameters to which ego prompts us to compare all our subsequent experiences.
One reason ego chooses 19 on which to hang its metaphorical hat is that 19 marks the beginning, however subtle, of our decline toward, and denial of, death. At 19, we generally run faster, jump higher, and laugh harder than any at any other time. At 19, a gymnast’s backflip has the highest loft and fastest spin. At 19, a driver has the quickest reaction time. At 19, we can hold our breath longer, spit farther, and drink more. Nineteen rocks.
Even if all that were true (people vary in their maturity and abilities, after all), so what? Why should it be a source of chagrin or despair if my backflip is imperceptibly slower at 22 than at 19? No more reason than aging and death should be such a source.
Ah, there’s the meat. Aging and death: two aspects of human life that ego loves to weaponize to create fear and resistance, so it then can recommend soothing behaviors. Soothing, after all, is all.
That’s why ego picked 19 to highlight. As soon as, say, age 25, ego will start reminding you about how you performed an action or handled a situation at 19. Man, that all-nighter wiped me out. Wish I was 19 again. Man, sweeping this sidewalk is wearing me out. Back when I was 19, man… I need a drink.
Like most folks, I’ve resisted growing older for most of my life (since age 19, if you must know). My resistance during my twenties was, I think, mostly unconscious. I would suffer at each untaken risk and begrudge (again, mostly unconsciously) each success I witnessed others achieve.
My resistance to this finite life continued in my thirties. My family had begun to accumulate, and with it my sense of responsibility and inadequacy. I remember being in a perpetual state of awe at what I simultaneously considered my greatest fortune and my heaviest burden. My family became my meaning – my life’s purpose. But that meaning was both enlivening and overwhelming.
Why overwhelming? Because I had been conditioned to mistrust my ability to succeed – in any task. I was both a “natural” and a “not quite good enough” at whatever I tried. I sang impressively, but I was no Frank Sinatra. I danced gracefully, but I was no Gene Kelly. I tumbled adequately, but I was no Olympian. I got good grades, but I was no Einstein.
I acknowledge that those judgments, regardless of how they were initially implanted, were self-imposed after age 19. Still, we’re all more victimized by our early conditioning than we like to admit. Self-imposition aside, those judgments were generally unconscious and irresistible, especially without any mentors to set me straight.
As I entered my forties and fifties, my inadequacies mounted. I had quit on many of my life “goals.” I had quit acting and singing, thinking it was irresponsible of me not to “get a real job” to support my growing family. I had quit law school for much the same reason, as irrational as that sounds to me today. I had quit my pursuit of a master’s degree that would have allowed me to practice as a physical therapist, a decision that I regretted for decades. My time as a physical therapy aide was some of the most rewarding of my working life. But check it out: successful, well-liked physical therapy aide, but never a physical therapist. A “natural” but also “not quite good enough.”
I turned 67 at my last birthday. I’m no longer overwhelmed by regrets about what might have been. Yes, I’ve amassed some traditional symbols of success (degrees, work experience, training, etc.). More importantly, I’ve learned how to view the twists and turns of my life as a series of experiences and life lessons, rather than as a series of missed opportunities. I’ve decided that every experience is neither good nor bad, unless someone (usually me) imposes that unnecessary value judgment. I’ve learned that each experience is worthy of appreciation, and that most experiences carry valuable life lessons.
How did I learn all that?
I learned it by very gradually expanding my awareness wider than my ego-inspired, self-abusing thoughts. I can’t say that I expanded my awareness intentionally, so much as I slowly became aware that I had more mental capacity than just thoughts – especially negative thoughts. Yes, I meditate, and yes, I read and listen to mentors more often now. But mostly I just relaxed and occasionally let the sunlight in. And I definitely smile more.