Most of us know our chronological age. It can be easily calculated from our registered birth date. But how many of us feel our age?
The other day, I asked my parents, How old do you feel? My father, who was going on 78 at the time, said he felt like he was in his early 60s. My mother said the same. Usually, they felt younger than their chronological age.
I am 48 years old. But I do not feel 48. Most of the time.
Physically, I feel older than my age. The ease with which I pick up aches, sprains, and strains and the acuteness with which I feel them remind me of how old I am. I have to remind myself constantly to warm up before I get physical. When I was young, I never warmed up. I could start cold.
Feelings-wise I fluctuate between my 6s and 60s.
Some may rightly point out: How can I feel 60 when I have not reached that age? Reading, resonance, empathy, sympathy, inference, and imagination help me simulate what that might feel like. It doesn’t have to be accurate. What is important is the sense of it.
Why up to the 60s? I imagine I should be an assuredly responsible, mature, and benevolent adult by then. That’s what I reach for when I am professionally and socially engaged. Given my roles and responsibilities, I have no choice. I have to be authoritative, supervise, listen, lead, and make numerous decisions daily. I must exercise restraint, act maturely, think long-term and strategically, and behave emphatically to do all that well.
Assuming a future self allows me to imagine better, improved versions of myself to manifest in the present.
Why down to the 6s? Because of Han Christian Anderson’s story, The Emperor’s New Clothes. It is one of my favourite stories. I read many picture book versions of it when I was young. Below is the story (Obtained from Wikipedia):
There is an emperor who has an obsession with fancy new clothes, and spends lavishly on them, at the expense of state matters. One day two con-men visit the emperor’s capital. Posing as weavers, they offer to supply him with magnificent clothes that are invisible to those who are incompetent or stupid. The emperor hires them, and they set up looms and pretend to go to work. A succession of officials, starting with the emperor’s wise and competent minister, and then ending with the emperor himself, visit them to check their progress. Each sees that the looms are empty but pretends otherwise to avoid being thought a fool.
Finally, the weavers report that the emperor’s suit is finished. They mime dressing him and he sets off in a procession before the whole city. The townsfolk uncomfortably go along with the pretense, not wanting to appear inept or stupid, until a child blurts out that the emperor is wearing nothing at all. The people then realize that everyone has been fooled. Although startled, the emperor continues the procession, walking more proudly than ever.
I imagine the boy to be six. He hasn’t yet lost his innocence. He hasn’t yet learned deceit. He hasn’t learned to go along with other people’s delusions. He calls it as he sees it.
That is how I feel when I am in my 6s. I see people in authority miming and walking around naked — metaphorically, of course. I find it challenging to unsee and go along with pretences or collective hallucinations. I call it as I see it. It’s not that I don’t care about appearing inept or stupid — we all are occasionally – but I am incapable of caring. That’s the 6s.
The thing about the 6s is that I do not reach for them; they emerge when I am confronted with the inept, stupid, corrupt, or malicious. I wish we could be 6s with each other more often.
When I am in a book-devouring phase, I feel like I am in my teens to twenties. That was my most intensive reading period. I easily read undistracted for several hours at a time. When I manage to pull it off, it takes me back to the mood and feel of those days.
Most days, my chronological age melts away, and I vacillate between feeling I am in my late 20s or mid-30s. Being in the company of people younger than me helps maintain the illusion. Funnily enough, living with my 18 and 15-year-old sons somehow does not disrupt my delusion of imagined youth.
Some days, I am surprised to realise I am as old as I am. As if I have just noticed something always there. The only time I feel precisely my age is when I have to declare it, for example, filling in a form that asks my age, not just my birth date. Otherwise, I am ageless and can assume all ages.
Truth is, I feel a different age every day, depending on the day, whom I meet, how much sleep I get, what work I have to do, etc. Generally, I feel old on Monday but feel progressively younger as the weekend approaches. That’s when I generally feel youngest.
One thing is certain: I rarely feel my age. I usually feel older or younger and everything in between. It’s not about how old we are but how old we feel. When it comes to feeling our age, the truism that age is just a number best describes it. That is how it should remain.
