My midlife reflection

“Welcome aboard Cathy Pacific to Penang. We are delighted to have you with us on this flight” said a soothing female voice over the PA system. I regressed back. It felt like a prediction that never comes true — it was definitely a moment of déjà vu played backwards, instantly familiar, and made me nostalgic for a past that I hadn't quite let go of yet. When my 50th birthday was approaching, some in my circle wanted to throw me a big bash. Their plan was to rent a hotel in the city for a couple of nights and party, party, party! I could think of nothing worse. Instead, I asked my wife and collaborator, Sue — for two things. Both I thought would be meaningful and memorable. I wanted to climb Kilimanjaro with my family. And I wanted to reconnect with my childhood friends from Hartley College, where we spent our formative years together while growing up in Sri Lanka — a country of monolithic despair!

A big reunion was organized by 88’ classmates to gather at Hartley College in Point Pedro in order to give back to a venerable institution — which stood as a flickering spark of humanity in a world that had gone dark ever since the Sri Lankan civil war. It was a wonderful and worthy effort. Unfortunately, due to personal reasons I couldn’t travel to Sri Lanka to attend that reunion. So, some of my friends thought of making a detour to Penang, Malaysia for a mini gathering — so we could reconnect. It was a very thoughtful gesture by them. This prompted me to go to Penang. Few things have such a huge impact on happiness and the enjoyment, depth and plain fun of life as the friendships we have. It could be the friendships with our partners, family members, co-workers and the people we have known for a few years now or since we were kids. Because, if you haven’t learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven’t learned anything in life. 

Some places surprise you. Even if you been travelling nearly nonstop for over 20 years, like me, there are places that snap you out of your comfortable worldview, take your assumptions and your prejudices, and turn them upside down. They lead you to believe that maybe there is hope in the world. Penang is one of those places — especially, when you are with your trusted friends from childhood. A place of controlled consensual chaos of daily commerce with addictively delicious food. We had a fun-filled, laughter-loaded few days in Penang. It was as much as fun you can have while wearing pants. I love people being in their maximum version of their character. You are born who you are.

I enjoy seeing people being themselves. It was heartwarming to see 50 year old men being reduced to 15 year old boys.Together, we learned sustenance and life lessons. Also we learned about both the place we are from and where we are going. Living apart doesn’t change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. People come and go in life, but the right ones stay — those are friends from Hartley College. I’m glad for that.

I turn 50 years of age — this month. All I can say for certain at this midlife point is that, I’m certain of nothing. Wow — growing up in Northern Sri Lanka during war, I never thought I would live to see fifty. I’m sure most of my friends may have felt the same. Our collective scarred memory is full of incidents of experiences growing up during the war in the North — whose inhabitants were frequently bombed and shelled to oblivion. As boys growing up in the midst of armed conflict, on most nights during the heavy bombardment my brother and I used to lay on the floor of our ancestral home. We soon learned to recognize at a very young age the different sounds generated by bombers during air raids — the aircraft guns; the machine guns and the return fire of Tamil fighters; the cracks made by the incendiaries as they landed; the shock waves from high explosive bombs, preceded by a seismic wave that was felt as we lay on the ground and the subsequent haunting screams of those poor souls who got caught in it.

For me, the fear I remember most clearly was feeling the shocks from bombs, each one getting closer and more intense — laying on the floor thinking that I will never have the chance to fall in love, feel the gentle touch of a woman, be a father or grow old.

Every night I thought I will never see the next day. And then the relief came when the return fire came from the Tamil side and the intensity of enemy fire began to fade away. But some nights, surprisingly I slept through it all. Such recklessness and flair for risk-taking may have helped me to be where I’m today. I’m not alone or special in this way — many of my friends who grew up in war probably can attest to this. At school, the teacher would sometimes ask us to stand and observe a moment of silence for the souls of our schoolmates who had been killed in a recent raid. It’s hard to enjoy the Western dream when your nightmares leave you racked with survivor’s guilt. 

When I was in my teens, people would say to me that I was too young. Then all of a sudden here I’m at my milestone age — the Big Five-Oh! Some kid told me recently at a family gathering that I’m too old. So, what am I? These past 50 years have given me an incredible ride. I have scars, regrets, success, gray hair and experience. I am flawed. I am prone to outbursts. I make mistakes. I bump into walls and I embrace it all. I am perfectly imperfect. I have learned to accept and love my imperfections. But one thing I have been exceptional at is listening — especially to wisdom from others. I have always been a fan of this quote by American novelist Ernest Hemingway, “I like to listen. I have learned a great deal from listening carefully. Most people never listen.” I’ve learned that there is a direct link between listening and the wisdom that we gain. These days people tell me things without even speaking to me. Anything I learn now — I regard it as precious. 

I refuse to scare people with messages that imply their best years are behind them. I am here to tell people that aging is a wonderful privilege. I have learned that resistance in life makes people grow. I’m not afraid of change. But very afraid of not changing. I do not fear failure — but, am terrified of regrets. I do not ever take criticism from someone I would never take advice from. I apologize if I’m wrong — not because I’m unpopular. I learned that good judgement comes from experience — and, lot of that comes from bad judgement. I made plenty of those. My skin colour doesn’t make me a victim and victimhood is not a virtue. Most importantly — the measure of a man comes in many ways. 

As I reflect on all the wisdom that has transpired through listening, what I’ve learned from listening and tragically losing my father when I was a teenager — is the story arc of my life. I’m just an extreme example of what a determined person can achieve. My only midlife wish is that my father was alive to see how I turned out. The killing of my father left me sinking in the quicksand of my own nightmare. He was a man of dignified reticence. It was — and, will always remain a privilege to be his son. He has an unimpeachable place in my heart. 

Not even the lapse of time will numb how horribly I currently feel about how senselessly he was murdered. Triggers of my father are everywhere — without fail, a deep ache always follows. Our shared activities in their loving and tender nature often play in my mind like a slideshow on a never-ending loop. I believe we all die twice. I can’t write it down exactly how I feel about this portion of my life — because they haven’t invented the words for it yet. This kind of pain is beyond words. He knows my internal dialogue is full of sharp and painful edges. But, I know — sadness leads to nowhere. So, I march on — because, that’s the only daily salve for my red and angry wounds.

Eventually, we will all be written and sealed in the book of life. 

This change came for me recently after my mother’s passing. Before that, all I wanted to do was to win at the expense of everything. Every day my report card comes in the form of an overnight sales email. Even when it’s positive, it’s not glorious euphoria — because I’m relieved and then thinking of how to win the next day.

But now I’m starting to fall in love with life a little bit. I’ve started to appreciate what is good and what is important in life. One is my relationship with others, especially loved ones — my wife and son. Everything else is secondary.

You can take the person out of the Stone Age, not the Stone Age out of the person. The desire to obtain status in organizational settings is, simply put, part of human nature. Our challenges may be different from hunter-gatherers’, but our hardwiring is not. Our intentions create our own reality. You can change what you do — but, you can’t change what you want. You don’t get what you deserve — you deserve what you take. There is a message I want to get out to anyone who is pursuing a dream — if it sucks while doing it that is how you know you are doing it correctly. And that person belongs to a rich history of a long lineage of Tamils who had to jump though hoops to get where they are today. Until then, don’t let any setbacks distract you. And, always value your relationships with others — especially your loyal friends and loved ones. It is binary — zero or one. Zero is everything else, and one is your family and loyal friends.

I have now gotten to a point in life where it less about competing against others but more about competing against myself. It’s much more of a lonely pursuit. I’m at that point. In fact, I think it’s deeper than that — it’s gut-wrenching, and sometimes the narcissist in me thinks I’m at a place that few are at. Sometimes it feels like no one is in my shoes. Now, in terms of daily motivation, I must motivate myself based on what I want and how bad I want it. When that battle is with myself I can’t lie — because, when I look in the mirror I know all the truth. Battling with myself — that is deep. I want to be a better person — especially at home.

I have made numerous presentations. But I’m the type of person who gets nervous — very nervous — before any presentation, I really do. Every time I ask, am I able to deliver this? But I train well for it. I execute when I train — but I always worry and I am always paranoid. “Can I still do it?” I don’t know why. I’m always nervous. I’m too competitive — I’m just too competitive. I don’t want to lose at this point in my life. For the next few years, I’m going to figure out how to make sure I can silence my doubters. I will push myself to the ultimate level. I will go through everything in my head — all the vulnerabilities, insecurities, flaws, business plans — and then give my bravado and sometimes a smile.

It took a lot of hard work, guts, focus and concentration to get here. It was not easy. People think it was simple. And, I must remind myself that, “Listen you have a goal for yourself, and if you don’t win all that you have done doesn’t really matter.” That’s one of the things that keeps me going. I have dedicated my life to this. It has been a long journey — and it’s not over. It is better to take the risk and fail sometimes than not to take the risk at all and fail for sure. That’s my Point Pedro training.

Of course, I wouldn’t have made it this far in life without my pillar of strength — my wife. My listening ear. My disciplinarian. My "life's" dance partner. My "go-to" gal! The one I go to with my big news, my last-minute plans, my grand schemes and my shenanigans. Whenever I’m defeated, sulk in the corner, engulfed in negativity or feeling sorry for myself — she would always fire me up and motivate me by saying, “This is not the man I married. Now, get up and fight.” Thankfully, she never believed in feeding misery. One of the important milestones in my journey is my relationship with her.

I appreciate everything she has endured, tolerated and sacrificed as I ascended to the top — corporately. This is why the family climb to Kilimanjaro was symbolic — and, synonymous with struggles of my life. The climb — and, my life so far has taught me that there are no shortcuts to any place worth going. Currently, I’m in that worthy place.

Each one of us has to start out with developing his or her own definition of success. And — when we have these specific expectations of ourselves, we’re more likely to live up to them. Ultimately, it’s not what you get — or, even what you give. It’s what you become. 

With every passing day, no matter the rage inside me, no matter the pain in my heart, no matter the nightmares in my head, there are some moments, some beauty, some extraordinary display of life through living, helps me breathe, helps me smile, helps me be grateful for all that I have, all that I am — and, all that I am becoming.

Now, failure isn’t an option — on both counts, personally and professionally. I’m only old — when my regrets take the place of my dreams. Turning 50 has made me acutely aware that my time on this earth is limited. At my midlife point — being a husband, father and friend — I realize this more than ever. As I struggle with this dichotomy, I’m reminded of few lines of Robert Frost’s poem, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.”

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.