What does it mean to live and work well at 60? (Asking for a friend!šŸ˜‰)

Full disclosure, I turned 60 this year. Do I feel any different? No, and yes.

I don’t feel old, but most of my colleagues would probably say I’m not young.

So, I may not be young, but I’m definitely not done.

At 60 most of us are in the thick of our working lives, hopefully thriving, but perhaps noticing a quiet (or not so quiet) shift in your inner compass with questions like:

šŸ’­What matters now?

šŸ’­How do I want to live, love, contribute and grow from here?

šŸ’­What haven’t I had a chance to do yet that I really want to do/learn/discover/see?

ā€˜What does it mean to live and work well?’

Seriously great question, always. And, another opportunity for re-purposing.

Robert Kegan calls this the self-transforming mind. When you’re no longer trying to master life, but to partner with it. Letting go of the illusion of control, and leaning into complexity with humility and grace.

Here’s what I’m noticing…

🧭 Making a contribution really matters

Maybe more than ever. The desire to leave the world better for my being here hasn’t waned, in fact, it’s sharpened. Helping, mentoring, coaching, supporting, challenging. In the words of David Whyte, ā€œThe antidote to exhaustion isn’t rest, it’s wholeheartedness.ā€ I want to give what I’ve got, fully.

I often talk with professionals in coaching conversations facing a point in their working life where to their astonishment they are re-visiting, and sometimes discovering, what they once cared about passionately is not so important to them now. The observation is often accompanied by a feeling of being anomic and sometimes even feeling ashamed. Some talk about a sense of being lost, or falling. ā€˜What will my family/partner/colleagues think?’ they ask. When I enquire more it’s the fear of negative assessments or the judgement of others that lies behind this question. Our identities can be deeply connected to our professional work (and by proxy so can our partner’s). And, we are of course much more than what we do. So often it’s what we care about that defines us, and certainly what we care about that motivates us and drives our work and actions.

The pressure to be exceptional, constantly on show, Instagrammable and always explaining what we’re doing, is real and exhausting. Social media can both stimulate and feed a hunger for external validation, leaving us addicted to comparison and dopamine.

For this reason I love the ending of Middlemarch by George Eliot who says about Dorothea:

ā€˜ā€™But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.”

So – a hidden or quiet life can be a good one with a legacy largely undocumented. Not a new idea, but hugely grounding and refreshing as a reference point.

šŸ’Ŗ Health and fitness? Not optional.

Strength, flexibility, stamina, proprioception (look it up!) These are major investments now. My niece’s husband who happens to be the CrossFitĀ® UK & Ireland Community Support Manager tells me, ā€œFor as long as possible you want to be able to get out of a chair, up off the floor, and ideally out of a hole.ā€

I feel like throughout my career I’ve got at least metaphorically good form on the last one especially šŸ˜‚.

Seriously, there is a case for making some changes as the years roll by. I gave up running some while back (so many injuries!) and took up ballroom dancing (fewer injuries!) More recently I took up salsa dancing. An additional benefit is the number of young people you meet who are keen to learn to dance too, looking to learn a new skill and meet people. A young man said to me recently, ā€˜When I first came, I’d never been to anything like this before and you were so kind and helped me!’ He chatted about his work, moving to Manchester, how tough it had been and how he’d enjoyed meeting a group who welcomed him in. You just never know the impact of a conversation, listening, perhaps making an introduction for someone.

Dancing, as Michael Mosley reminded us, is one of the best things you can do for neurogenesis. It boosts memory, mood, balance, and brain health. Plus, it’s fun and a great way to meet people. I travel with my dance shoes now. There’s almost always a club or class nearby. ā€œSee you on the dance floorā€ might be my new favourite farewell.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/articles/1Hpr6R1f4M7f8Qc6fPGH2hg/why-dancing-is-the-best-way-to-enhance-your-brain-and-fitness

🧠 Commit to learning something new

Neuroplasticity isn’t only incredible, it’s a call to stay curious, keep stretching and surprising yourself. Learning a language, a musical instrument, a martial art, bee keeping, dancing (again!) Let yourself be a beginner. And remember it’s the practise that counts. Carol Dweck’s ā€œGrowth Mindsetā€ is a solid companion here. And the process of learning can build compassion and empathy too. As we experience the falls, setbacks, failures, mistakes, misunderstandings and very small wins that go with the territory we can be kind and encouraging to ourselves, and remember our children spend most of their days in the uncomfortable space of not-yet-knowing. So cut them some slack next time you see them after school and they’re tired and a bit grumpy.

This year I gained my Paddle Canada Level 1 Sea Kayaking. It was a challenging few days off the coast of Vancouver learning how amongst other things how to flip my kayak and shake the water out of it whilst treading water and scramble back in without capsizing. It’s good to feel confident going out on my own on the water, facing the swell and holding my nerve and also assessing when it’s not safe due to wind or current or my energy levels.

The point isn’t just to stay ā€œrelevant.ā€ It’s to enjoy being alive – because none of us know what’s happening next.

When most of your deep dialogue has happened at work, it can be a shock when those opportunities diminish either because you take a new role (with fewer opportunities for the pressure and excitement that goes with it), or because your contact group changes and perhaps becomes smaller. If work no longer gives you the deep conversations you long for, the options are to go find it or build it. This can take time and effort, and you may have a few false starts. Remember new learning opportunities will open up new doors for deep conversation. If you care about it, persist!

✨ The Feminist Tradition of Mentoring: Wisdom, Wildness, and Paying It Forward

I’ve been lucky enough to have had a brilliant mentor in my life, Elsie, who I first met when I was a main grade lecturer, and she was the Principal of the college where I taught. Her encouragement, sharp mind, wicked humour, and no-nonsense wisdom have stayed with me over decades.

She helped me find my voice when I was full of ideas and frustration. She gave practical support when I needed it most, including looking after my young son so I could attend interviews or grab hold of career-changing opportunities. He still calls her his ā€œalmost Grandmaā€. Now 86, she’s retained her wild side and still reminds me of Dennis the Menace’s Gran – full of spark and rebellious kindness. I am forever grateful to her and I tell her. Our lives are immeasurably richer for her generous mentoring, always with humour, always grounded, and always real.

Mentoring isn’t just something nice to do, it’s radical, necessary and feminist! For those of us who’ve benefited, the baton is in our hands now. We have both a gift and a responsibility to carry it forward, to support younger women with their ambitions, frustrations, and hopes. To challenge where it matters, to show up with practical help when we can, and to cheer them on unapologetically.

So, if you haven’t already – take on the mantle. Be the support, the challenger, the door-opener, the calm in the storm. Be the woman you needed once, and maybe still do.

šŸ“£ Be a positive rebel.

It’s easy to slip into a place of justifying inaction and silence on things that matter. Early on in my career a tutor wrote in one of my reviews, ā€œHelen is not someone who chooses the easy path if she sees injustice.’’ He was right, and for sure on one occasion speaking out cost my job. It was 22 years later when the police knocked on my door with a copy of a letter I’d written raising serious concerns about practices in a school and asking me what had happened as part of a public inquiry.

Whether it’s challenging toxic behaviour in the boardroom, calling out subtle injustices, or simply refusing to go along with what’s not right, this stage of life brings a deeper responsibility. Not just to speak up, but to be an upstander.

And as BrenĆ© Brown puts it, ā€œIntegrity is choosing courage over comfort; choosing what is right over what is fun, fast, or easy.ā€

I don’t do it for drama or disruption, but to help create a fairer, kinder world for our children and everyone else’s too. Quietly or boldly, we can rebel with purpose. Because living and working well includes leaving things better than we found them.

šŸ™ Practising thankfulness

If we have a dry home and bed, enough food and clothes, something to do that we care about, someone to love and things to look forward to, we are so, so fortunate. It’s easy to get caught up in grief, uncertainty and loss. As we get older – inevitably we experience more grief. Our parents pass on, and then so do our friends and we’re suddenly aware life can turn on a sixpence.

Bonnie Ware’s work on the regrets of the dying enable us to hear from those nearing the end of their lives what they wish they’d known, decisions they wish they’d made.

Not in a morbid way I often pause to think, ā€˜If this year was to be my last, would I be glad I’d done what I’m doing now?’ It’s a helpful practice in awareness and prioritising, helping me recognise what to gently let go of, and what to move towards. Practising thankfulness every day is a great way to orientate towards appreciation of what we have and can cherish.

šŸ’ž Letting go and staying close.

Watching your children step into their adult lives is breathtaking. We watch in awe sometimes. They don’t need you in the same way. And while that’s a win (of course!), it’s a loss and can leave you quietly aching. I’m learning to be close in a different way, to listen more, to support without steering (unless I’m asked), and to cherish their adult selves as the remarkable people they’ve become. BrenĆ© Brown says, ā€œYou can’t selectively numb emotionā€, and so we feel it all. I’m learning how to stay close without holding on. Life really is all about holding on and letting go and knowing when to do which (Rumi).

Khalil Gibran’s words on children have been favorites for many years in our multicultural home and help re-orientate and ground us:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

These words help me find the balance between presence and freedom.

So, leaning into the journey takes time, as always. It may include rewriting what purpose looks like and perhaps redefining productivity. I’m recommitting to what really matters. Treasuring deeply every moment and relationship love and life have offered.

And in the quiet moments, I come back to Rilke, who wrote:

I want to unfold. Let no place in me hold itself closed,

for where I am closed, I am false.ā€

So here’s to unfolding.

Whatever age you are, perhaps pause and think –

what does living and working well mean to you, right now?

(Asking for a friend… šŸ˜‰)

#Coaching #LivingAndWorkingWell #SelfTransformingMind #RobertKegan #BreneBrown #DavidWhyte #Rilke #Neurogenesis #MidlifeAndBeyond #MichaelMosley #Purpose #LearningAtEveryAge