Keep Dancing With Life

Challenges in life don't always arrive with a warning.

Sometimes they sneak up on us.

A phone call we weren't expecting. A health problem. The loss of someone we love. A friendship that quietly disappears. A change in our finances. A spouse who needs more care. A move we never planned to make. A retirement that turns out to be very different from the one we imagined.

At first, we may wonder, "Why me?"

But perhaps there is another question worth asking:

"What can I do with this?"

I have come to believe that the challenges we encounter in life can become invitations to grow, change and discover something about ourselves we didn't know was there.

That doesn't mean every challenge is a gift. Some things that happen to us are painful, unfair and simply difficult. We don't have to pretend otherwise.

But we can decide what we do next.

And as we get older, what we do next often begins with communication.

One of the greatest challenges of aging can be becoming disconnected from other people.

We retire and lose the daily conversations that came with work. Friends move away. Some pass on. Family members become busy with their own lives. We may become less mobile. We may stop driving. Technology changes faster than we can keep up with.

Suddenly, the world can become a quieter place.

That's when communication becomes more than exchanging information.

It becomes a lifeline.

A phone call can remind someone they haven't been forgotten.

A coffee with a friend can turn an ordinary Tuesday into something worth remembering.

A conversation with another older adult can reveal, "I'm not the only one going through this."

And sometimes, talking about a challenge is the first step toward finding a way through it.

When we were younger, many of us had an interesting relationship with work.

We worked hard because we expected something in return.

A paycheque.

A promotion.

A pension.

Recognition.

And if we were honest, we often thought we weren't being paid enough!

But some people discovered something else along the way. Work wasn't simply about earning money. It was a way to dance with life.

Work introduced us to people we would never otherwise have met.

It gave us problems to solve.

It gave us opportunities to create.

It occasionally pushed us outside our comfort zones.

And sometimes, without realizing it, we became rich in ways that never appeared on a paystub.

We became rich in friendships.

Rich in experiences.

Rich in stories.

Rich in confidence.

Rich in knowing that we could make a difference.

Retirement changes the rules.

Nobody is necessarily handing us a job description anymore. There may be no boss telling us what needs to be done on Monday morning. There may be no paycheque waiting at the end of the week.

But life hasn't stopped asking us to participate.

In fact, it may be asking us to participate differently.

That challenge you've been facing might be an opportunity to learn something new.

That health limitation might require you to discover a different way of doing something you once took for granted.

That empty calendar might be an invitation to reconnect with people.

That problem in your community might be an opportunity to volunteer.

That story you've been carrying around for years might be worth writing down.

That person you've been meaning to call might be waiting to hear from you.

The dance continues.

We just have to learn the new steps.

And sometimes we stumble.

That's okay.

Nobody expects an eighty-year-old to dance through life exactly the way they did at thirty. The music has changed. Our bodies have changed. Our responsibilities have changed.

But we can still dance.

Perhaps the real danger isn't facing challenges as we grow older.

Perhaps it is deciding that because we are older, we should stop trying new things, stop meeting new people, stop asking questions and stop imagining what might happen next.

Don't let a challenge convince you that your story is over.

Let it remind you that there is still a story being written.

Talk to people.

Ask questions.

Tell someone what you're struggling with.

Listen when someone else tells you about their struggle.

You don't always need to solve the problem. Sometimes being willing to sit beside someone while they face it is enough.

And don't underestimate what can happen when two people start talking.

A problem becomes a possibility.

An idea becomes a project.

A stranger becomes a friend.

A setback becomes a new direction.

A difficult chapter becomes a story you eventually tell with a smile.

We spent much of our working lives trying to become financially rich.

Perhaps retirement gives us the opportunity to concentrate on becoming rich in other ways.

Rich in relationships.

Rich in experiences.

Rich in curiosity.

Rich in purpose.

Rich in laughter.

Rich in stories.

And rich in the knowledge that, despite everything life has thrown at us, we are still here.

Still learning.

Still connecting.

Still contributing.

Still dancing.

So, when the next challenge arrives, don't immediately ask, "Why is this happening to me?"

Take a breath.

Pick up the phone.

Talk to someone.

Then ask yourself:

"What might life be inviting me to do next?"

You may not like the music.

You may not know the steps.

You may even step on someone's toes.

But that's all right.

The music is still playing.

Keep dancing.

A Cup of Coffee, a Good Friend, and the Surprises of Life

No one asks the coffee bean how it became so rich.

It simply became something wonderful after enduring pressure, heat and time.

Life is much the same.

Most of us have been through a little roasting of our own. We have endured pressure, experienced disappointments, lost people we loved, changed direction, started over and occasionally wondered what on earth was going to happen next.

Yet here we are.

A little older. A little wiser. Perhaps a little more grateful for the simple things.

And one of those simple things is sitting across the table from a friend with a cup of coffee between you.

The best conversations don't happen when we are watching the clock. They happen when we put down the phone, look someone in the eye and ask, "How are you today?"

Then, and this is the important part, we need to actually listen to the answer.

We live in a world where communication has become remarkably easy. We can send a message to someone on the other side of the world in seconds. We can email, text, post, comment, like and share.

Yet sometimes, with all these ways of communicating, we seem to have forgotten how to talk.

A real conversation takes time.

It requires curiosity. It requires listening. Sometimes it requires silence.

And occasionally it requires another cup of coffee.

Funny how a two-dollar cup of coffee can leave you feeling like a million bucks.

But friendship isn't just about looking backward and remembering the good times. Good friends also help us look forward.

That brings me to another thought I've been considering lately: perhaps there aren't recurring themes in our lives as much as there are recurring choices.

We choose whether to reach out.

We choose whether to answer the phone.

We choose whether to accept an invitation.

We choose whether to remain curious about what might happen next.

And we choose whether to leave a little room in our lives for surprise.

As we get older, it is tempting to think we know how the rest of the story is going to unfold. We have lived long enough to recognize patterns. We know what usually happens. We have learned to be cautious.

But what if the next chapter contains something we couldn't possibly have planned?

What if a casual conversation over coffee introduces you to someone who changes the direction of your life?

What if an old friend calls after years of silence?

What if you say yes to an invitation, you nearly turned down and discover a new interest, a new group of friends or an entirely new adventure?

What if a stranger hears something you have written or something you have done and says, "I think you should meet someone"?

Life has a funny way of opening doors we didn't know were there.

Sometimes the most interesting things happen when we stop trying to orchestrate every moment.

So, when you imagine your future, don't visualize only the things you have carefully planned.

Leave some room for magic.

Imagine yourself laughing with friends about the bizarre chain of events that somehow brought you to an unexpected opportunity.

Imagine the phone ringing with an invitation you never expected.

Imagine meeting someone who becomes an important friend.

Imagine discovering that something you thought was a small decision turns out to be the beginning of a much bigger adventure.

And don't forget the coffee.

Because friendship often begins with something remarkably ordinary.

"Want to grab a coffee?"

That simple question can become an afternoon conversation.

The conversation can become a friendship.

The friendship can become an adventure.

And the adventure can become one of those stories you tell for years.

Perhaps that's one of the secrets of getting older: we don't have to manufacture magic. We simply need to remain open enough to recognize it when it appears.

So, call someone.

Invite them for coffee.

Ask how they are doing, and then give them enough time to tell you.

You might discover that they needed the conversation as much as you did.

And who knows?

You might even discover that the next surprising chapter of your life begins with two people sitting across a table, two cups of coffee, and a question as simple as:

"So, what have you been up to?"

The Coffee Shop

"Isn't it strange how you can find metaphors for life almost anywhere?

Take a neighborhood coffee shop.

Everyone arrives carrying something invisible. Worries. Deadlines. Loneliness. Excitement. Hope.

Some stay five minutes. Others linger for hours.

No one asks the coffee bean how it became so rich. It only became something wonderful after enduring pressure, heat, and time.

Life is much the same.

The best conversations happen when we stop watching the clock, look someone in the eye, and simply ask, "How are you today?"

Funny how a two-dollar cup of coffee can leave you feeling like a million bucks.

Remember Your Halloween Adventures?

Do you remember your best Halloween?

Not the Halloween when you got the most candy.

Not necessarily the Halloween when you had the best costume.

I'm talking about the Halloween you still remember.

Perhaps you were six years old, wearing a costume your mother made at the kitchen table. Maybe you were a ghost, a cowboy, a princess or something that was supposed to be a monster but looked more like a pile of old blankets.

Perhaps you remember going door to door with your friends, carrying a pillowcase that seemed enormous at the beginning of the evening and somehow wasn't big enough by the time you came home.

Maybe you remember the house with the best candy.

Every neighbourhood had one.

There was always a house where you knew you were going to get the good stuff.

And there may have been another house that gave you an apple.

An apple!

You probably didn't appreciate the nutritional wisdom of that homeowner at the time.

You were on a mission.

Candy was the currency.

Halloween was an adventure.

And that's what I want us to remember this Halloween.

Because there will be thousands of little adventurers heading out into our neighbourhoods today.

Some will be tiny.

Some won't be so tiny anymore.

Some will be dressed as superheroes. Some will be witches, ghosts, firefighters, princesses, monsters or characters from movies and video games we don't recognize.

Some costumes will be homemade.

Some will look as though they cost more than the house they are visiting.

Some children will be shy and barely whisper, “Trick or treat.”

Others will announce themselves as though they have been elected mayor of Halloween.

And there will be teenagers.

Some of us may be tempted to think they are too old to be going door to door.

I would suggest we give them a break.

Maybe Halloween is one of the few nights when they are still allowed to be kids.

Maybe they aren't quite ready to give up the magic.

Maybe they are creating a memory they will carry for the next 70 years.

We don't know what we don't know.

And that includes what is happening inside the head of the child standing at our door.

Perhaps that costume took weeks to put together.

Perhaps the child has been looking forward to this night for months.

Perhaps they are nervous.

Perhaps they are having a difficult year and tonight gives them a chance to forget about it for a few hours.

Perhaps this is their first Halloween in the neighbourhood.

Perhaps this is their last Halloween before they decide they are too old.

We don't know.

But we can make the few seconds they spend at our door memorable.

We can smile.

We can say, “Great costume!”

We can ask their name.

We can let them choose their candy.

We can laugh with them.

And when the teenagers arrive, we can resist the temptation to say, “Aren't you a little old for this?”

Instead, perhaps we can say, “Happy Halloween!”

Because here's the thing.

One day, those children will be sitting where we are sitting.

They'll be the ones answering the door.

They'll be the ones buying the candy.

And they'll remember the people who made Halloween special.

Maybe they'll remember the grandmother who always had the best treats.

Maybe they'll remember the man who complimented their costume.

Maybe they'll remember the house where someone handed them two pieces of candy instead of one.

We may never know that we have become part of someone's childhood memory.

That's a pretty wonderful thought.

We spend a lot of time talking about what we leave behind as we get older.

Money.

Houses.

Photographs.

Possessions.

But perhaps one of the most important things we leave behind is much smaller.

A memory.

A smile.

A kind word.

A moment when somebody felt welcome.

Halloween gives us a chance to do that.

So, this year, when the doorbell rings and you hear that familiar chorus of “Trick or treat!”, remember the child you once were.

Remember the excitement.

Remember the costumes.

Remember the pillowcase.

Remember running from house to house with your friends.

Remember believing that the world was full of possibilities.

And then open the door.

Welcome the adventurers.

Because that's what they are.

They are heading out into the darkness, knocking on doors they have never knocked on before, meeting people they don't know, wearing costumes that allow them to become somebody, or something else for a night.

They are discovering.

They are exploring.

They are making memories.

They are having an adventure.

And isn't that exactly what we were talking about?

You don't know what you don't know.

Those children don't know what adventures life has waiting for them.

Neither do we.

So, let's encourage them to explore.

Let's give them a little candy and a lot of encouragement.

And perhaps, while we're at it, let's remind ourselves that we don't have to stop having adventures just because we've accumulated a few more birthdays.

This Halloween, don't just hand out candy.

Hand out a welcome.

Smile at the little ones.

Smile at the not-so-little ones.

And when you close the door after the last trick-or-treater has disappeared into the night, take a moment to remember your own Halloween adventures.

You may discover that the magic was never really about the candy.

It was about being young, being curious, being brave enough to knock on a stranger's door and discover what was on the other side.

That's something none of us should ever outgrow.