Unbowed

To Arms! (1888), Edmund Blair Leighton

I had an interesting encounter the other day with an annoying little fellow, a self-important blowhard who loves the sound of his own voice. I would hardly call him a friend, though our paths frequently cross because we move in some of the same circles.

While arguing with someone else, he turned to me and blithely asked, “Wouldn’t you agree that all people over fifty become more inactive and unreliable?”

I shot him down immediately. “I am over fifty, and I am on a mission. Never in my life have I been more inspired, determined, or driven. I possess a lust for life I only wish I had known in my thirties and forties.”

Granted, I am not as physically strong as I once was, but what I have lost in strength I have more than made up for in resolve. I work harder, demand more of myself, and refuse to surrender whatever time remains to idleness or resignation.

Perhaps it is the fear of death, the specter of failure, or the burden of unfinished business. Maybe it is guilt over wasted years and squandered opportunities. Whatever the reason, I am a man possessed. There are books to read, battles to fight, places to see, and things to build. My ambitions have only grown as my time has diminished. I do not have enough years left to accomplish everything I intend to do, and that realization has made me more militant, not less.

This is not to say I don’t recognize the sort of people he was describing. I know plenty of older men who have surrendered their ambitions, grown complacent, or simply withdrawn from the struggle. But I also know young men who have accomplished nothing and are content to keep it that way.

What I suspect my tiresome acquaintance really meant was that fewer people are willing to answer his calls to action. In my estimation, the problem is not their age but his failure to inspire them. People eventually tire of fighting the same battles, listening to the same speeches, and repeating the same empty gestures without witnessing any meaningful results. A broken record is not a battle cry.

I, too, have withdrawn from certain activities and causes that once commanded my attention. Not because I have grown indifferent or unreliable, but because I have become more disciplined about where I direct my energies. I no longer allow myself to be sidetracked or dragged into another man’s quarrels at the expense of my own. My time is too precious, my objectives too numerous, and my determination too fierce to squander what remains on fruitless endeavors.

There is a profound difference between abandoning the fight and choosing one’s battles. I have not laid down my arms. I have merely stopped marching under every banner waved in my direction.

If anything, the advancing years have sharpened my sense of purpose. I have no intention of growing old quietly, retreating into comfortable irrelevance, or apologizing for ambitions that others have long since abandoned. Let others resign themselves to decline, make peace with mediocrity, and surrender their convictions. I have work to do, and I am not finished yet.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, October 31st, All Hallows' Eve