Before I returned to my 10th high school reunion in Waco, Texas, I reflected on what I had accomplished. I lost a few pounds, planned my wardrobe and jewelry carefully, and coached my “then” husband on his role. All of us there wanted to broadcast our success as individuals, our education, our impressive work and that we had perfect relationships. The reunion felt like an audition for being successful twenty-somethings. I enjoyed talking to those who had changed the most: they were more vital and engaged. Little scrawny Barry in high school waited for his entrance into the clubhouse. The women hooted and hollered as the new buff, tall, suave Barry sauntered in. The guys weren’t going to pick on him now and the women wanted a chance to dance with him. Success was sweet.
I was amazed, even then, that some had not left home actually or mentally. The cheerleaders had the same 1960s bouffant hairdos atop a bit more weight and the heroes of the football team still replayed the big games and remembered high school as the best time of our lives. Nonetheless, the reunion was fun and age appropriate.
When I returned for my 25th reunion, much less care in appearance consumed my planning. I wondered if those with whom I had shared intellectual pursuits, activities in student council and tennis and those who had traveled to debate tournaments and national Latin club conferences would be there. I wondered who was happy in their careers, in their parenting and intimate lives, who was asking the bigger questions of meaning. The reunion was more relaxed. Most wanted to connect more transparently, even getting ideas from each other about how to navigate the 40s. We never had imagined the 40s.
In our early 40s some had died reminding us that mortality stood at the door. Many had divorced and were seeking success through vulnerable, real relationships, not through their previous Barbie and Ken images. Most had children and even grandchildren. I was the only one with a 6-year-old and a foot in the tasks of the 30s while consumed by those of my 40s. Many were sorting the sacrifices needed in personal lives if they chose to push for the next level of their careers. In our 20s, we thought everything was not only possible but desirable. In our 40s, we knew there were consequences to choices.
But as with the 10th reunion, some had never left Waco. The captain of the high school basketball team who practiced law asked loudly after many drinks, “Wasn’t high school just the best?” By the sad look on his face, we knew it had been for him and he had moved from “knight” to day after day living with little joy in the present. The gap was getting wider and more obvious between those who kept living the same Ground Hog Day and those who were asking:
Why am I here?
What is the meaning of my life?
Will I have an impact? What will people say at my eulogy?
Am I aligned spiritually with what brings meaning and renewal?
I work but is that my calling? Am I using my unique gifts?
How do I correct my life to align with my values? My heart’s yearning?
Is it time to stop pleasing people who ultimately do not matter and be more in control of life choices that develop my gifts and connections?
I’ve never returned to other reunions. I stay in touch with a few who are consciously moving through the decades. I remember fondly those early years: little responsibility, feelings of invulnerability, groping to build relationships about which neither boys nor girls had a clue, loving the magic of first love, and trying out different identities to see what fits.
Dr. Elaine Yarbrough is president of The Yarbrough Group (www.yarbroughgroup.com), a consulting firm in Boulder, Colo., that provides a wide range of services worldwide. Her specialty is developing women's unique leadership capacities. Over the past 32 years, she has assisted more than 500 organizations, including business, education, government, and human services. Dr. Yarbrough has published three books and numerous articles. She taught at the University of Colorado, where she received every university teaching award. She has worked in 26 countries on five continents. She lives at the edge of the Rocky Mountains with her husband; they can be found hiking and skiing. Send your questions to Elaine@smartnow.com.
I love more the deepness, joy and challenge of staying in life and building my gifts, setting boundaries to preserve self and relationships, cultivating the wisdom that those in their early years need, and laughing a lot. I struggle with age issues when our culture is so youth oriented and know that each decade requires more consciousness on the inner and outer journeys to come into our true power and to ask the final question; “What is my legacy?”
THE LAYERS
By Stanley Kunitz
I have walked through many lives,
some of them my own,
and I am not who I was,
though some principle of being
abides, from which I struggle
not to stray.
When I look behind,
As I am compelled to look
before I can gather strength
to proceed on my journey,
I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp-sites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings.
Oh, I have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections,
and my tribe is scattered!
How shall my heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way,
bitterly stings my face.
Yet I turn, I turn,
exulting somewhat,
with my will intact to go
wherever I need to go,
and every stone on the road
precious to me.
In my darkest night,
When the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
Directed me:
“LIVE IN THE LAYERS,
NOT ON THE LITER.”
Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written.
I am not done with my change
