Midlife Transition

One way of looking at the changes that take place in a man’s life over the years has been studied and reported in a book called Quantum Change by William R. Miller and Janet C’deBaca.

THE STUDY
They collected dozens of “before and after” tales from interviews, letters, and telephone calls. The stories they tell all reflect two types of quantum change – sudden insights and epiphanies. The authors successfully assert that as a person is guided to a new place of authentic truth within himself or herself, peacefulness and inner strength ensue, and a positive shift in core values results.

The Findings
The findings show something quite interesting. Before the change, the top values in most men’s lives are: wealth, adventure, achievement, please and being respected.

It is not surprising to find these on the list. Men have been conditioned to be the breadwinners of the family and to be the hunter/gatherers who PROVIDE. And to provide, one must accumulate wealth. Society measures worth and influence by wealth and accumulation. Though the need to provide and to create a secure future doesn’t go away with age, other priorities take precedence.

In the original group of men studied, values after the ‘change’ shifted dramatically, placing spirituality as the number one value! After that came personal peace, family, God’s will and honesty.

Midlife Crisis as a Quantum Change
A midlife crisis can be such a change. Whether it is precipitated by the loss of a loved one, an unexpected accident, a job loss, an illness or just the raging shift of hormones, the good news is that a quantum change is possible.

In my experience counseling men of middle age and beyond, I have seen time and time again the validity of this study. As we approach closer to death than to birth, we begin to ask the eternal questions. Why am I here? What is the purpose of my life? We see parents and friends leave this world and come to truly understand that we ‘can’t take it with us’ and so, we realize deeply that our priorities need to shift.

FEAR OF TRANSFORMATION

Sometimes I feel that my life is a series of trapeze swings. I’m either hanging on to a trapeze bar swinging along or, for a few moments in my life, I’m hurtling across space in between trapeze bars.

Most of the time, I spend my life hanging on for dear life to my trapeze-bar-of-the-moment. It carries me along at a certain steady rate of swing and I have the feeling that I’m in control of my life. I know most of the right questions and even some of the right answers. But once in a while, as I’m merrily (or not so merrily) swinging along, I look out ahead of me into the distance, and what do I see? I see another trapeze bar swinging toward me. It’s empty, and I know, in that place in me that knows, that this new trapeze bar has my name on it. It is my next step, my growth, my aliveness coming to get me. In my heart-of-hearts I know that for me to grow, I must release my grip on this present, well-known bar to move to the next one.

Each time it happens to me, I hope (no, I pray) that I won’t have to grab the new one. But in my knowing place I know that I must totally release my grasp on my old bar, and for some moments in time I must hurtle across space before I can grab onto the new bar. Each time I am filled with terror. It doesn’t matter that in all my previous hurtles across the void of unknowing I have always made it. Each time I am afraid that I will miss, that I will be crushed on unseen rocks in the bottomless chasm between the bars. But I do it anyway.

Perhaps this is the essence of what the mystics call the faith of experience. No guarantees, no net, no insurance policy, but you do it anyway because somehow, to
keep hanging on to that old bar is no longer on the list of alternatives. And so for an
eternity that can last a microsecond or a thousand lifetimes, I soar across the dark void of “the past is gone, the future is not yet here.” It’s called transition. I have come to believe that is the only place where real change occurs. I mean real change, not the pseudo-change that only lasts until the next time my old buttons get punched.

I have noticed that in our culture, this transition zone is looked upon as a “no-thing,” a no-place between places. Sure, the old trapeze bar was real, and that new one coming towards me, I hope that’s real too. But the void in between? That’s just a scary, confusing, disorienting “no-where” that must be gotten through as fast and as unconsciously as possible. What a waste! I have a sneaking suspicion that the transition zone is the only real thing, and the bars are illusions we dream up to avoid the void, where the real change, the real growth occurs for us.

Whether or not my hunch is true, it remains that the transition zones in our lives are incredibly rich places. They should be honored, even savored. Yes, with all the pain and fear and feelings of being out-of-control that can (but not necessarily) accompany transitions, they are still the most alive, most growth-filled, passionate, expansive moments in our lives.

And so, transformation of fear may have nothing to do with making fear go away, but rather with giving ourselves permission to “hang out” in the transition between trapeze bars. Transforming our need to grab that new bar, any bar, allowing ourselves to dwell in the only place where change really happens. It can be terrifying. It can be enlightening, in the true sense of the word. Hurtling through the void, we just may learn how to fly!

From Essene Book of Days, copyright 1990, Danaan Parry

In the words of T.S. Eliot:
…In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.
In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.
In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not.
And what you do not know is the only thing you know
And what you own is what you do not own
And where you are is where you are not.–(East Coker, #2 of Four Quartets)