Risking It All for 90 Seconds

 It’s not the likelihood of the fall, but the weight of its consequences that demands caution

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI: A Man Falling on a Busy Road

Summary: During a trip to Geneva, Salim chose to jaywalk instead of waiting 90 seconds at a pedestrian signal. Mid-crossing, he tripped and narrowly avoided an oncoming car. Embarrassed but unharmed, he later reflected on how easily the incident could have ended in serious injury or worse. Salim’s experience is a reminder that decisions with low probability of adverse outcomes can have potentially outsize life-altering consequences.

The incident occurred during a one-week trip to Geneva — an event that, with slightly different outcomes, could have had lifelong repercussions. A small twist of fate, and Salim would have endlessly wished to turn back time, altering the moment that upended his life.

Salim had enjoyed the familiar routine of visiting Geneva and taking the train from the airport to Gare Cornavin. Stepping out of the station, he felt a sense of comfort as familiar sights greeted him: the Hotel Bernina directly ahead and, to its right, Les Brasseurs, where he’d enjoyed many dinners on past trips. Salim often remarked how much easier it was to travel to places he knew well, requiring little preparation and offering a sense of ease.

It was a pleasant evening in early December, uncharacteristically mild for Geneva. Since his arrival, there had been no rain. That evening, at a dinner with colleagues at Little India, Salim had savored his favorite dishes: onion bhaji with tamarind chutney, saag paneer, and, mindful of his blood sugar, just a small portion of rice. Feeling content, he strolled along Rue Lausanne back to his hotel. Rue Lausanne was bustling, as always, with cars streaming in both directions and Tram №15 periodically rattling past.

To reach his hotel, Salim needed to cross Rue Lausanne, a road with multiple stoplights to ensure safe pedestrian crossing. But for reasons he couldn’t later recall, he decided against walking to the nearest crossing. Perhaps the idea of waiting 90 seconds for the pedestrian signal to turn green seemed like an unnecessary delay. Instead, he glanced left and right, judged the traffic, and decided he had enough time to cross.

Things didn’t go as planned. As Salim hurried across, he tripped and fell — right in front of an oncoming car he’d initially deemed far enough away. In his calculations, he hadn’t accounted time for a fall, the need to scramble up, or the panic that would follow.

Luckily, Salim managed to get up in a hurry and reach the opposite curb in time. When there, his first thought wasn’t about potential injuries. Instead, he was mortified by being the object of a socially awkward situation. Desperate to avoid attention, he briskly walked away, pretending as though nothing had happened. It was only after putting a few blocks between himself and the incident location that he began to check for injuries. His knees stung, and his durable blue jeans had torn at the right knee — a testament to the severity of his fall. When he finally reached his hotel room, a body scan revealed scraped knees and a bruised left palm, the latter having borne the brunt of his fall.

Salim couldn’t help but reflect on how much worse things could have been. He might have sustained serious injuries, necessitating medical care in a foreign country. If he had not gotten out of the way quickly, the driver of the oncoming car might have had to slam on the brakes, possibly causing another accident. Worst of all, Salim himself could have been struck by the vehicle.

And all this for the sake of saving 90 seconds.

Those 90 seconds, insignificant as they seemed, could have brought about a lifetime of regret. Even though none of the worst-case scenarios materialized, the incident served as a sobering lesson: saving a few moments isn’t worth the risk of catastrophic consequences. The cost-benefit analysis was clear — even if tripping was an unlikely event, the stakes if it did happen were too high.

To this day, Salim occasionally revisits that memory. He wonders about the thoughts of those who witnessed the scene. Did a mother tell her child to learn from “that man” and always wait for the pedestrian signal? Did someone shake their head, believing Salim deserved the scare for disregarding safety rules? Whatever their thoughts, Salim will never know. He is just thankful that he got away easy.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

Aging Together: A Journey of Friendship and Pickleball

 

Growing old together means you’ll always have someone to remind you where you left your glasses… because I’ll probably be sitting on them.

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI: Aging Together

Summary: In a retirement community, a group of us ‘aged people’ arrived around the same time, sharing the journey of settling in and embracing new activities like pickleball. Over time we will grow older together. Though we’re all beginners now, our skills and interests will mature differently, and our paths will diverge. Yet, our true connection lies in aging together. Slowly, our chats will turn from playful banter to comparing aches and pains of old bodies, eventually becoming watchers on the sidelines observe the new arrivals go through a similar drill.

Recently, moving into a retirement community marked the start of a new chapter for us. Although I’m still working, we made the transition for a couple of reasons: to settle into a place where we want to retire while we’re still active and capable of handling the challenges of a big move, and to escape the long, cold winters of our previous home.

We’re now settling in, and part of this process involves engaging in the variety of activities offered by our new community, a 55+ retirement community. While we do that, I’m starting to realize that, as I age, I’ll be sharing a unique journey with fellow retirees — especially those who, like us, arrived around the same time.

We’ve started to establish new routines and friendships, including our introduction to pickleball — a game that we newcomers are all learning to play. For now, we’re united by our inexperience and eagerness to try something new, making each misstep and missed shot part of the fun (and, occasionally, the cause of an audible curse).

As we get our feet wet together, I realize that, over time, some of us will progress faster than others, and our skill levels in pickleball will start to vary. Some will join more experienced players as they advance, others may be content staying where they are, and still others may decide it’s not their cup of tea and move on to try different activities.

But regardless of where our pickleball skills take us, one thing will remain constant: we will age together. Gradually, our conversations will shift from discussing games and learning new skills to comparing aches and pains, sharing doctor recommendations, and reflecting on changes we never anticipated. Over time, as we become less active players and more spectators, our courtside chats will evolve into quieter observations from the sidelines.

Our shared aging would be woven into the life of getting older in this community. None of us arrived here in our youth — we are all here precisely because of the stage of life we’re in — old. Our being here is contingent of being over 55 and we are required to provide evidence for it (e.g., the drivers license).

Our shared aging is part of the fabric of life in this community. None of us arrived here in our youth — we’re all here precisely because of the stage of life we’re in: older adulthood. Our residence here is contingent on being over 55, something we even had to verify (for example, with a driver’s license).

As us, the old people get older together, our days will be marked by shared experiences, and mutual support that the process of aging requires. In the end, this gradual, graceful aging will be our common bond, reminding us that while each of us may have our own aches and individual journeys, we are also on a journey together. Towards that, pickleball is just an excuse for greater adventures.

As we, the older generation, continue aging together, our days will be shaped by shared experiences and the mutual support that growing older requires. In the end, this gradual, graceful aging will be our common bond, reminding us that, while each of us has our own aches and individual journeys, we are also on a shared path. On that journey, pickleball is just the beginning of adventures yet to come.

Ciao, and thanks for reading.

Retirement…

 

…is a rug being pulled
from under the feet,
thrown in the air,
landing with a thud
on a sagging butt.

After the fall,
if no bones are broken,
it’s time to rise—
for an old dog to learn new tricks.
Maybe Pickleball,
so when someone asks,
"Hey, what are you up to?"
you can wag your tail and say,
"I’ve picked up a new
play today."

Buffering existential crisis

 

You don’t find oak trees having existential crisis. ‘I feel so rotten about myself. I don’t produce as much acorns as the one next to me — Adyashanti

Arun Kumar

Arun Kumar + AI

For some, the cognizance of mortality is a cataclysmic event. Although its precise consequences are unpredictable and could be either positive or negative. They might lead to debilitation, foster spiritual development, or serve as a wellspring for creativity. In one way or another, the event can end up turning one’s life upside down. It disrupts our assumptions, challenges our purpose, and forces us to confront our finite existence.

In the presence of mortality, even seemingly simple acts like reading, learning, and working take on a questioning hue.

The cognizance of mortality is like Dementors — it can slowly drain happiness and vitality.

The cognizance of mortality makes us wonder about the meaning and purpose of life. Balancing mortality and life within us can be challenging, if not insurmountable.

The dysfunctional union of mortality and life is the beginning of the existential crisis and makes us question life’s meaning and purpose. Why are we born with a beginning and an end? What purpose does our finite existence serve on this Earth? If all is going to end in the loss of the self that we cultivate with much effort and diligence, what is the point of the journey and all the effort it entails?

While being born was not our choice, we must carry on despite existential crises. To be able to live with a semblance of sanity, we have to find (and build) a meaning for our existence. While doing that we also need to accept the fact that the meaning we construct may not last forever.

We must acknowledge that circumstances change, and the protective moat of meaning we construct may eventually run dry.

For instance, aging or other factors — social, cognitive, or physical — may necessitate us to retire and make us question our identity. The loss of a loved one may bring questions about existence anew.

Change can also be as subtle as our evolving values; what was meaningful yesterday may lose its impact today.

When change occurs, successfully navigating the transition involves rebuilding our inner moat and finding a new meaning and purpose for life.

Ultimately, a recipe for a peaceful life involves skillfully confronting changes and fortifying our moats against existential crisis.

With all that the cognizance of mortality can gift or curse us with, what brings it on to begin with?

Our awareness of mortality fundamentally stems from our awareness of the future. Our capability to think about the future, in turn, is part of the matrix that our consciousness is.

One hallmark of our consciousness is the ability to perceive the flow of time — to know where we were, where we are, and where we might be tomorrow. It is remembering the past, knowing the present, and thinking about the future.

Consciousness is a double-edged sword. It granted us an advantage in the game of natural selection for survival and reproduction. It also gifted us with knowledge of the future.

It is in the future where mortality lurks, and it is our ability to think about the future that its cognizance emerges from.

I guess consciousness is no free lunch. At least some of us have to pay a price for its gift.

Ciao.

Of interest:
Building a framework for Living — A laminated guide
Paradox of Living
The ailment of existential crisis
Taming Mortality

Retirement: A modern-day conundrum

It’s paradoxical that the idea of living a long life appeals to everyone, but the idea of getting old doesn’t appeal to anyone — Andy Rooney

Arun Kumar

AI Generated Image

Natural selection has gifted us with certain psychological traits that do not always benefit the majority of the aging population in the present era. Indeed, there are a few extraordinary individuals, such as Fauja Singh who completed a marathon at 100, who age remarkably well. However, they are not the norm. As I grapple with my own physical discomforts, like an aching knee, or with financial concerns, like a dwindling net worth reflected in my monthly bank statement, I find myself caught between inspiration and disheartenment when I hear or read about these exceptional cases.

However, this narrative isn’t about envying centenarian marvels. Rather, it’s about how the rapid pace of human development over the last 10,000 years, since the advent of agrarian societies, has left us unprepared in certain aspects of modern life, particularly, the average person now lives well beyond their reproductive years and is ill-equipped to handle the challenges and hardships of old age.

An inherent aspect of life is its need for energy. Every living entity is in a constant state of needing sustenance. A continuous intake of energy is necessary to maintain the structure of living beings against the relentless force of entropy, which persistently attempts to scatter their constituent atoms back into the cosmos. In this sense, living beings are akin to vehicles needing a pit stop for refueling or smartphones requiring a power source for recharging. Anything that ‘operates’ requires regular replenishment of energy.

For humans, the acquisition of energy was once achieved through hunting and gathering, with energy being the fruit of our labor. Those days are now in the past. In the present era, we need money to procure energy. Supermarket aisles are now a proxy for forests, and instead of wielding a spear or a bow and arrow, we must ensure we don’t venture out into the wilds of the supermarket without our credit cards. With our money, we now hunt in the aisles of the supermarket. But make no mistake, like the effort required for hunting and gathering, having money is still our time and labor. Being part of the work force is a prerequisite for procuring money.

In our later years, when our cognitive or physical abilities may be declining, or when we can no longer compete with the younger generation, or when our skill set becomes obsolete (like being proficient in FORTRAN, which might draw blank looks today), it is time to retire from the workforce. Retirement halts the steady inflow of money. However, to meet our ongoing energy needs, it’s crucial to have a reserve of funds saved up that we can gradually draw from to sustain our energy requirements and ourselves.

On a side note, in the present era it is not only food, but we now need accessories to service our living bodies and the money required for them could be larger than the need for food. The place to buy food may be miles away so we need money for public transport or to have a car. We need a home, clothing, and since now there is leisure time at hand, we need a TV, an internet connection. The list goes on and on — the things we need start to need their own things, like home and car require insurance or a smartphone with a plethora of accessories.

The point is that after we leave the work force (let us call it retirement), and a steady stream of cash flow dries up, we need to have enough saved up to meet myriad of resource requirements for the years we are going to live.

If you are lucky enough to live in a country with a good safety net, or if you have a steady pension from your working days then good for you. Even if those options are there, it is still good to plan ahead and save for retirement years. There is plenty of advice out there to start saving early, let the compounding do its magic and see the savings grow. In trying to do that, however, some of the psychological traits that natural selection has gifted us are no longer helpful.

Two big impediments in saving for retirement are our tendency to discount the future and predilection for choosing the path of least resistance. Both these psychological tendencies were a beneficial trait in the past and gave us an edge in either securing or conserving resources.

Consider the concept of discounting the future. Natural selection operates within the confines of the present environment. It lacks the foresight to select traits that could potentially be beneficial in future scenarios. When faced with the decision to utilize available resources now or conserve them for later, the general tendency is to opt for immediate use. After all, the future is unpredictable. This survival strategy, particularly in an uncertain environment, aligns with the adage, “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.” It underscores the logic of prioritizing immediate, guaranteed resources over uncertain, future ones.

In the context of the present era, another psychological impediment that natural selection has bestowed upon us is our inclination to choose the path of least resistance. Given that energy is a valuable resource, in the past, one often had to risk their life to obtain it, efficiency and conservation in its use is a beneficial trait to have.

The traits of discounting the future and choosing the path of least resistance may have been advantageous in a different environment, however, it is no longer the case. In the present era, where we often live well beyond our reproductive years and need to accumulate sufficient savings, these traits may not be as beneficial. They could even pose challenges on our journey towards financial stability and longevity.

Indeed, discounting the future can make it challenging to save money for future use. With a plethora of enticing gadgets available and constant marketing efforts promoting the latest and greatest products, the desire to keep up with the Joneses can be overwhelming. These propositions can be too attractive to resist. Saving for years in retirement takes a back seat.

Similarly, preference to opt for the path of least resistance can lead to less healthy lifestyle and other detrimental choices in today’s world. For example, why put in the effort to exercise at the gym when it’s much more comfortable to indulge in leisure? Resisting immediate gratification is a challenging task. Such choices make for a shorter health span when old.

These examples highlight the challenges of some deeply ingrained psychological traits that were once advantageous in a different environmental context with drastically different living conditions. These are elephants in the room that need to be tamed. How, and is it going to happen?

It is possible that 10,000 years since the advent of agrarian society to now is not enough time to get over these detrimental psychological traits. After all, natural selection, and evolution, traditionally, operate on much longer time scales. So perhaps, given enough time we would leave these traits behind and be better planners.

It is also possible that such a change will never happen. Exploitation by marketing geniuses, presence of dopamine or serotonin receptors will always keep the flame of instant gratification burning. If that happens then the adverse psychological traits are here to stay and need to be socially managed.

Whatever the future may be, for now we are caught in the cycle of living longer, requiring energy as a resource do that, and needing money to continuously procure that resource. If we want to live our old days in comfort, we had better heed the advice and start saving early.

Ciao.

Falling in and out of a trance: A tale of (almost) buying a home

 

It is hard to imagine a more stupid or more dangerous way of making decisions than by putting those decisions in the hands of people who pay no price for being wrong — Thomas Sowell

Arun Kumar

AI Generated Image

Yesterday, I experienced a transition from a trance-like state to a moment of sudden awakening and realization. It felt as if I was on auto-pilot, guided by a force beyond my conscious control, similar to being in a hypnotic or religious trance. Then, something snapped me out of it.

In this trance-like state, I behaved out of character, performing actions that were not typical of me. This state could be likened to a form of dissociation, where I felt detached from my actions. It was as if I was observing my actions from an outsider’s perspective, aware that the actor was me, but his actions were beyond my control.

Then, the dream shattered, and there was a sudden shift. I “woke up” and was abruptly thrust back into reality, confronting the world with a sense of surprise and confusion. This return was a jarring reconnection with reality, a stark contrast to the trance-like state I had been in.

The feeling that follows a sudden transition from a state of two disconnected selves to a state where they coalesce is strange. The process brings a feeling of disorientation like waking up in an unfamiliar place, unsure of where you are.

This state of trance was not induced by intense focus or deep meditation. It occurred during a scouting trip to the low country of South Carolina in search of potential retirement locations.

The trip involved visiting retirement communities to get a feel of what they are like and see what home models they had to offer. However, during our explorations, the mindset subtly shifted from merely looking around to considering it perfectly acceptable to spend $500K on a second home and then deal with the logistics of managing two homesteads separated by five hundred miles.

Two factors precipitated this transition.

When visiting a retirement community where new homes are still being built, the first stop is the model homes. These homes are showcased to attract you like a bee to a fragrant flower. The model homes appear far superior to the homes we ordinary mortals live in. The idea of living in them feels like a quantum leap in the standard of living, akin to moving to an imaginary life in heaven. Your eyes glaze over, and your mind is transported into a trance where reason has no place.

The other factor relates to the real estate broker accompanying you, who earns money only when a home is bought or sold. Given this, it is in their best interest to make you buy a home with the least amount of their time invested. While you are already slipping into a trance-like state, they are adept at applying subtle psychological tactics to nudge you further over the precipice of rationality. They do this by hinting that if you do not buy the home in the next few days, the price will skyrocket.

Another trick they employ is to make you feel that if you miss a particular house that you demonstrated a little admiration for will not come along. They play on your fear of missing out (FOMO).

The agent may highlight the uniqueness of a home, its features, location, or price to create a sense of scarcity. They might suggest that such opportunities are rare and if missed, similar options may be hard to come by anytime soon. Their strategy is designed to create a sense of urgency among the entranced, pushing them to decide quickly. The sense of urgency, combined with the trance-like state you are already in, makes you susceptible to signing a contract before what was supposed to be just a scouting trip is over, unless…

…unless something snaps you out of the trance and you blink with a sudden realization of the uncharacteristic folly you were about to commit. All I needed was to get out of the setting, disassociate with the real estate broker, who is part hypnotist, part manipulator, and have a cup of coffee at Starbucks sitting on their patio and feel the breeze in my face. In that simple act the trance broke and in a moment of clarity, I realized the importance of stepping back to remind myself why I was here and not getting into the logistical challenge of buying a second home.

Without carrying any regrets, tomorrow I will be heading back home. The place has a potential to settle down after retirement, however, buying a home can wait for another day.

Ciao.

Reflections on a Journey: The 100th Post

 

Fall seven times and stand up eight — Japanese Proverb

Arun Kumar

AI Generated Image

If you happen to be reading this post then as the title says, this post is a milestone for me. It is my one hundredth post since I ventured on a journey that started on 5 Aug 2021. Almost three years and now a hundred articles later, the achievement that I am most proud of is that through thick and thin I managed to stay with the endeavor and made it here.

It all started with getting older and the prospect of retirement in the near future, a thought that almost derailed me with the fear of suddenly being time affluent and not knowing what to do with it. Leaving work, and whatever psychological crutches it provided, was a terrifying prospect. It is not that there was much of an attachment left for work, its politics, or for what I was doing there, it was more the thought of not knowing what I would be doing if I were to leave.

The thought of not knowing what awaits if I were to leave this room, step through the door and enter the next one, was terrifying.

And then there was the growing realization of my mortality. The combination of the two was not playing out well.

Deep within, I happen to be a growth-oriented person and relish the rush of coming up with new ideas, connecting disparate and seemingly isolated facts and bits of knowledge. These traits have served me well in my research career, and in my own little way, I have been successful in research pursuits, its outcomes, and I am proud of it.

The same growth mindset, however, did not help with the prospect of sudden time affluence at hand after retirement and not knowing what to do with it. Without conscious recognition, somewhere along the way the work became all consuming, became identity and there was not much to do outside of it. The prospect of becoming a comfort-minded retiree whose portfolio of engagements includes gardening, watching TV etc. was not an inviting image of my future self.

I am not alone in being terrified at the prospect of retirement. Medical advances have increased the life span to the extent that life after retirement could be a 30+ year time span, as long as the working life itself. This has created a niche for a new class of entrepreneurs of retirement coaches, retirement podcasts, and books, all trying to guide us what to do with the remining years we will have on the Earth.

The bottom line is that depending on what the individual mindset may be, the prospect of retirement could be a traumatic experience.

It is going through the thought of transition of retirement that the idea of writing as a hobby emerged. The idea was writing for the sake of writing with no strings attached, for example, not worrying about whether anyone is going to read or not. An endeavor for its own sake without any expectations on the return. That is also when I started developing the portfolio of engagements that would feel fulfilling after retirement and writing felt like a good engagement to have in that portfolio.

And my first post was about wondering aloud who would be interested in reading what I write. There has already been so much written, and in that backdrop, would I have anything new to say? But then, it also occurred that there are always new connections to be made, and besides, now there are billions of users of internet, and it may just happen that an article may happen flash by someone’s field of vision, get read, and might touch upon a\someone's personal curiosity or experience.

In the universe of internet, posted articles (at least by newbies) are like shooting stars in the night sky. If you just happen to be looking up, you might notice one shooting across your screen.

An issue with starting down this path was what to do with the desire to get noticed, getting likes, and getting recognition. It is a desire which is double edged sword. It could be a wonderful motivator (and a resonator) but could also bring a crushing sense of defeat. Not being chained by the desire to be recognized could be a tremendous sense of freedom.

There is plenty of advice from scriptures and philosophers on how to minimize the role of seeking external recognition in our life and its endeavors and not become its prey. From the Bhagvat Gita where Kirshna tells Arjuna “You have a right to perform your prescribed duties, but you are not entitled to the fruits of your actions. Never consider yourself to be the cause of the results of your activities, nor be attached to inaction” to the advice from the stoics that pay attention to what one controls and do not peg your happiness on the things you cannot control, like seeking recognition and number of views and likes. What is in your control is to post the article and rest is out of your hand, and thus, do not sweat over it.

Excellent words of wisdom but hard to follow.

Not too keen on “Stats” page is liberating but being human, it is hard to pull entirely away from it and I do take a peek at the stats once in a while. Desire to get recognized is an evolutionary trait designed to increase our chances of survival and reproduction. It is buried deeply in my psyche and is not easy to let go.

Since beginning on 1 Aug 2021, I have come a long way. It was slow going in the beginning (with posts separated by a month or more). Now I have reached a place where I am writing regularly and generally have a post ready to appear online on Saturday morning.

Along the journey I have written and posted article on mortality (and as one gets older, my growing recognition of it), trials and tribulations of retirement, future of humanity, developing a framework of living, articles on the lines of personal journaling, philosophical musings, and connecting various bits of information.

Even though I have come far, there is still a thought that nags me. It is the fear of running out of ideas. It is the fear of endings and not knowing what to do next. I keep getting struck by finistophobia. If I had a list (and ideas) of potential articles to write that is longer than the span of my cognitively lucid days on the Earth, I would be a content person. And to get there, I am constantly trying to update the list of potential articles to write and constantly curating ideas.

Now as get I closer and closer to impending retirement and have been able to put together a portfolio of engagements that align with my values, I am at ease with the thought of time affluence. In fact, I might be getting close to consciously making the decision to step through the door and embracing it.

And here I am with my 100th post and hope to have the 200th post not too far in the future. Until then, be well, do good work, and stay in touch.

Ciao.

A Retirement Ready Self

 

Don’t simply retire from something; have something to retire to. — Harry Emerson Fosdick

Arun Kumar

AI Generated Image

The National Weather Service in the United States has the catchphrase about its vision statement and it is to make the United States “A Weather-Ready Nation: Society is prepared for and responds to weather, water, and climate-dependent events”. The mission statement of the NWS is to “Provide weather, water and climate data, forecasts, warnings, and impact-based decision support services for the protection of life and property and enhancement of the national economy.”

If you are wondering what the difference between mission and vision of an organization is then wonder no more: mission statement is what your organization is doing right now, while vision is what your organization hopes to achieve in the future.

Parallel to the motto Weather Ready Nation, thinking about my retirement that will happen sometime in near future, a question sprang up and asked, would it not be nice to have a Retirement Ready Self?

You see, for some of us retirement is not as trivial an issue as changing clothes. Retirement could be a terrifying proposition. It is walking into the unknown just when the realization of mortality is also becoming magnified.

Retirement is like taking off the clothes one is wearing, opening the closet and find what to wear next but unexpectedly discovering that the closet stands empty and there is nothing to wear and hide one’s nakedness and vulnerability.

So, what would be a Retirement Ready Self and how can one reach that state of enlightenment and being?

The ideal state of Retirement Ready Self would have several dimensions, but the basic notion behind is that if one is to end the career today then tomorrow there would be another life ready to slide into and the transition would be seamless, effortless, and in going through that transition, not a single step would be missed.

What would Retirement Ready Self require? Its likely attribute will be:

· Having adequate financial wherewithal.

· An adequate and interesting Portfolio of Engagements.

· A home where you wish to move to. If you are happy with the place you are currently at and going to stay put, then great. One less item to worry about.

· Having adequate social connections.

In short, Retirement Ready Self would be a self that has lined up all ingredients that will fill up the niches that leaving work creates.

What can one do to develop a Retirement Ready Self?

A simple suggestion is to start to create a parallel life while still working. It might be good to start ramping down the outlay of work involvement. Instead of having ten-hour workdays, have eight hours workdays and put the extra two hours into cultivating the portfolio of engagement into which you can slide to.

There is no criminality or judgment in ramping down the work routine. Over the years you have worked hard but enough is enough. You do not have to give all you have. Have some time for yourself and think about what your future self is going to be. Leave some time for yourself. Life is not forever, and we are mortal beings.

Returning back to missions and visons, the World Meteorological Organization’s (WMO) vision is to “By 2030, [have] a world where all nations, especially the most vulnerable, are more resilient to the socioeconomic consequences of extreme weather, climate, water and other environmental events; and underpin their sustainable development through the best possible services, whether over land, at sea or in the air.”

It is a grand vision requiring international cooperation, that in fact has worked in the past because the weather (so far) has no political boundaries and a flap of a butterfly over Amazon could indeed result in either a tornado or a beautiful sunny day in your backyard.

Be a Retirement Ready Self and listen to what this song is telling you.

Ciao.

Stay in touch if you can

 

In the cosmos of increasing entropy
that my Inbox is,
A supernova bursts forth,
"My Impending Retirement,”
says the subject line,
of an email
from yet another colleague,

who weary of the dance,
and lengthening varicose veins,
is ready to step
off the stage.

Months from now,
close to the date of exit,
I will drop an email,
"Enjoy the next phase
after a successful career,
and stay in touch,
if you can."

And yet, I know
these words are perfunctory.

Our world lines, once entwined,
now being sucked in
by the gravity of life's
next big surprise
will no longer cross.

Have you looked at life displayed on a postcard?

 

Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana

Arun Kumar

80-year life in weeks

How many methods are there to measure time? Let us count the ways.

Time it takes for the Earth to rotate once around its axis. A day.

Time it takes for the moon to go around the Earth. A month.

Time it takes for the Earth to go around the sun. A year.

Or if one wants to get esoteric, and precise, then the span over which 9,192,631,770 transitions between two hyperfine levels of the ground state of the Cesium-133 atom occurs is the standard for a second. Go figure, whatever that means. Understanding that will take too many hours of my time!

Somewhere along the trajectory of human civilization a day got divided into twenty-four hours, an hour into 60 minutes, a minute into 60 seconds. These numbers seem arbitrary as they are not related to (periodic) movement of celestial bodies which are a natural way to measure time.

A little help from Bing tells that the origin of 24 hours in a day, or 60 seconds in an hour came from Babylonians and Egyptians.

The Babylonians, around 2,000 BCE, used a base-60 numbering system known as the sexagesimal system, which probably is the origin of dividing an hour into 60 minutes.

The ancient Egyptians are credited to the division of the day into 24 hours. They used sundials and water clocks (clepsydra) to track the passage of time. The day was divided into ten hours of daylight and ten hours of night, with two twilight hours added at the beginning and end of the day.

Slowly, the 24-hour day became more standardized and widely adopted in the Roman period and has persisted and remains the standard for measuring time in many cultures around the world.

Then there are various notions of time that depend on disciplines of knowledge — Geological time (eons, eras, periods, epochs); Biological time (lifespans of organisms, growth rates, heart beat per second, circadian rhythms, evolutionary time); Economic measures of time (financial years, quarters) Climate measures of time (solar cycle, oscillations in climate data on years, decades, centuries, or even millennia).

Among all the ways to either measure or conceptualize time, time also has the weirdness of being a subjective experience and varies from person-to-person and also varies within one’s life. Our perception of the passage of time, and how we process and remember events, is truly a mind warping experience.

Time can drag on when bored or anxious; it flies when engaged in enjoyable activities. One can also get into the flow and lose the notion of time altogether.

This subjective time dilation or contraction can make it seem as though time does not always flow at a consistent rate. Sometimes it goes bananas!

There is also a feeling that time seems to pass more quickly and goes through “time compression” as we get older. When we’re young, a year might represent a larger portion of life we had, making it seem longer. As we get older, each year becomes a smaller percentage of our total life, leading to the perception that time is passing more quickly.

Exponential changes in technology and cultural shifts have also contributed to a perception of time passing quickly. The increasing flow of information and the increasing pace of modern life may also create the impression that time is moving faster.

All these examples point to an often distorted perception of time. One weird distortion is that month seems to fly by (and before you know, it is time to pay bills again) while a year seems quite long.

At other times, a year seems to go in a hurry, and yet, years of childhood seem to be eons away. Trying to imagine ourselves 50-years agomight as well be trying to peek before the Big Bang.

One of the most bizarre aspects of time is that if one counts life in number of years vs. number of days, and two create a different impressions for how long we are going to live. Living 80 years feels like an adequate life span but living for 29,200 days, ummm, not so much.

I guess measuring life in the number of days is a weird concept. We do not go around saying that an acquaintance is 32,850 days old now.

For that matter, looking at the lifespan in the number of weeks all laid out on a page just feels creepy. An entire life laid out on a half sheet of paper; that is all we have to live?

Now that I am older, there is also a tendency to begin to look at life based on different measures. Being in the middle of my sixties, a thought comes that I would perhaps see our son 20–30 more times and that becomes an awfully small measure of time and also a depressing and disconcerting thought.

On the same lines, perhaps I will see my sister in India five more times or less. The measure of life becomes even smaller.

Measuring time in how few instances you have left to repeat something makes the heart skip a few beats.

It also makes you realize how short our remaining existence could be.

So yes, there are many objective and subjective ways to measure time and within those options certain ways of perceiving time make us look at our existence through a different set of glasses.

Some of those glasses have a way of magnifying mortality.

Ciao.

Internalizing Mortality (2)

 

Arun Kumar

1. Introduction

The internalization of mortality, the recognition and acceptance of our finite existence, has the power to transform our lives in profound ways.

Before internalizing mortality, life is characterized by a sense of invincibility and the pursuit of transient pleasures. However, after this existential awakening, we often experience a shift in priorities, values, and perspectives, embracing life with a newfound sense of purpose, gratitude, and wisdom.

In this following, some aspects of contrasts between life before and after the internalization of mortality are highlighted.

2. Life before the Internalization of Mortality

Before individuals internalize their mortality, they may lead lives characterized by certain common themes:

1. Invincibility and Risk-Taking: The perception of invincibility often prevails at the young age when getting old and dying is something that happens to others, leading to risk-taking behavior. The consequences may seem distant, and life becomes a daring adventure.

2. Superficial Pursuits: Pursuits may lean toward superficial, materialistic, and hedonistic goals, such as the relentless pursuit of wealth, fame, and momentary pleasures.

3. Time Mismanagement: Time is often squandered on trivial or unfulfilling activities, and individuals may procrastinate when it comes to addressing what truly matters to them.

4. Neglect of Relationships: Meaningful relationships may take a back seat, as the focus on individual pursuits overshadows the importance of nurturing connections with loved ones.

5. Fear of Aging and Mortality: Youth and vitality are prized, and aging is often feared. The concept of mortality may be pushed to the periphery of one’s consciousness.

3. Life After the Internalization of Mortality

The internalization of mortality reshapes the way we perceive and live our lives:

1. Prioritizing Meaningful Experiences: Life takes on new meaning as individuals prioritize meaningful experiences over superficial pleasures. Time becomes a precious resource, motivating the pursuit of fulfilling and enriching moments.

2. Embracing the Present: The past is accepted, and the future, no longer taken for granted, driving a renewed focus on living in the present moment. Every day is seen as an opportunity to make the most of life.

3. Search for Meaning and Purpose: The recognition of mortality inspires a quest for meaning and purpose, leading individuals to explore their passions, values, and contributions to the world.

4. Deepening Relationships: The importance of relationships becomes paramount. Time spent with loved ones is cherished, and there is a greater commitment to nurturing and building strong connections.

5. Reduced Fear and Anxiety: Internalizing mortality can lead to a reduction in fear and anxiety. With the knowledge that life is finite, individuals find greater resilience in facing life’s challenges and confronting the unknown.

6. Reflection and Self-Improvement: Self-reflection becomes a regular practice, fostering self-improvement, self-awareness, and personal growth. There is a desire to become a better version of oneself.

7. Legacy and Contribution: People seek to make a lasting impact on the world, leaving a meaningful legacy through their actions and contributions. This is motivated by a desire to be remembered for positive, lasting deeds.

8. Spirituality and Philosophy: Many individuals turn to spirituality or philosophy as a means of grappling with the concept of mortality, finding solace and guidance in different belief systems or building their own.

Conclusion

The internalization of mortality is a profound awakening that can dramatically alter the trajectory of one’s life.

Life before this realization is often characterized by superficial pursuits. In contrast, life after the internalization of mortality embraces the present, prioritizes meaningful experiences, and seeks to make a positive impact on the world.

Life after the internalization of mortality becomes a journey of self-discovery, personal growth, and a deepening connection to the essence of life itself.

While the acknowledgment of mortality may at first seem disorienting, it can ultimately lead to a life lived with purpose, authenticity, and an appreciation for having a golden croissant in the morning.

The internalization of mortality makes one humble and urges us to let go of the physical and psychological baggage that we habitually carry.

Ciao.

Internalizing Mortality

 

Arun Kumar

Northern hemisphere and it is the month of October.

The place where I live at about 30o N, October is the month of transition from summer to winter. There is chill in the air and even if there were no calendars to look at, there are enough signs all around that changes are happening. Buddhist followers would say not to be surprised because impermanence is a fundamental tenet in the universe. And for a good measure they would have also added that clinging to things and wishing them not to change is an invitation to suffering.

But philosophy aside, October and autumn are wonderful times of year when the soul wants to transition into a few months of introspection. And of course, there will be no more yard work to do — cut the grass, weed the flower bed, protect the tomatoes vines from cutworms.

When October arrives, the Sun no longer stays so high in the sky and leaves are changing color. By 7pm it is dark outside, but inside, it feels like we are inside a cocoon and feeling safe and warm.

October is a lovely time of transition that connects summer and winter. Going through the transition there are gentle tides of emotions within that feel delightful and nostalgic.

One nostalgia is about my childhood days growing up India. October would have been the time to bring out the quilts for their storage and put them under the sun to get the smell of mustiness slowly evaporate in the air. I can see myself burying my face in the warmth of those quilts to take in musty aroma and feel the vague nostalgia of the passage of time. Then I did not know what those emotions meant but they felt like there is a place somewhere in which days pass slowly under a crisp blue sky and winds bring the sounds of someone playing flute at a distance..

The fact is that going from summer to winter is a time for and remembrance of transitions.

With the notion of transition, I am reminded of two modes of living I have been through. What separated them was the awareness and internalization of mortality.

Before that transition mortality was just a passing thought, a meh that happened to others and was none of my concern.

In life after the internalization of mortality there was an awareness that I share the same fate as everything around me; my time, my days are also numbered.

The internalization of mortality brought changes in perspective on how I view the world, what I strive for and why, what does the passage of time means.

The internalization of mortality was like looking at the world with different glasses. It was like going to an optometrist and a new prescription glass gets fitted, and when you walk out of the front door, the world holds a crispness that you were not aware existed.

The footprints change in perspective were evident during the recent example of my recent visit to Milan.

While there, I did desire to rush and strive and to visit every Duomo or Piazza that were listed in the travel guide. There was a sense of realization that within the city there are so many monuments, nooks, and crannies that have an equally long history but there will never be enough time to see them all.

Heck, in the place I have been living for the past 30 years we have not yet visited places that tourists come to see.

Instead, it was much more pleasurable to go around at a leisurely pace seeing what one can, and then take a break to have a nice long lunch or dinner, or a cup of coffee with a fluffy buttery croissant.

That golden croissant would be remembered for a long time. What would not be remembered is flashes of camera and ending up with five hundred pictures that I would not ever have time to look through again.

The internalization of mortality, paradoxically, lets the pace of life slow down. The realization that time is finite does not result in a mad rush to try to do everything or checking every box from the bucket list. Instead, it urges to be mindful of the quality time spent on checking of a few boxes that one can.

The internalization of mortality should be the motto for the slow life movement. It is the proverbial suggestion to slow down and appreciate life. Now I also have an urge to also type slowly and be thoughtful before the tips of my fingers hit the keyboard.

Soon it will be winter. A time for introspection. However, by the end of January I would be dreaming about going to some tropical island. I would be dreaming about spring and summer and freedom of stepping out on the back porch again. With patience, winter will slowly roll over into summer.

But not so with the transition that the internalization of mortality brings. It is a one-way journey. Once the mortality sets in there is no going back. I don’t even want it to happen. Life afterwards is more mindful, humble, and expansive.

Ciao.

Why rush through the fields of lavender?

Arun Kumar

Imagine a life that is lived with the cognizance of morality and another without.

Of course, you might argue that a life can never be lived without the cognizance of mortality because mortality is all around us. To that, I would say that yes, that is true but the difference I am focusing on is between a life that sees mortality but does not quite register it in its consciousness and contrast it with a life that not only sees mortality, but over time also internalizes it as a personal destiny.

With that understanding, the question I am pondering is how would two lives differ?

The intent is not to make a judgement as to which life may be better but is to query a hypothetical scenario: if two such sets of populations were to exist then how the average lives of individuals between them would differ.

Since I now transitioned over to the set of population in which mortality is recognized and internalized, I can share a few thoughts about the influence the internalization of mortality has on living.

The internalization of mortality brings a sense of humbleness. The touch of mortality reminds that the arrogance of “I” will eventually be subdued by something bigger than “I”.

“I”, after all, am not the master of the Universe. The arms of the galaxy do not revolve around us.

The realization of mortality also alters perspective on various aspects of life. It makes us question the aspirations we have and goals we so ardently pursue. It makes us question the point of carrying on grudges forever or pushing ourselves beyond necessity so as to climb another rung on the ladder of success at the expense of other experiences in life.

One day no matter how many sacrifices one has made to reach the sky, mortality would politely ask to please climb down and follow it.

The realization of mortality suggests slowing down to feel the pleasure of engaging in activities a little more mindfully. It tells us that there are a billion things to see and do, however, the time at our disposal is finite. Given that, there is no need to try to check as many boxes as we can because no matter how many are checked, there will still be a billion more left to be checked. Instead, mortality suggests to us, checking boxes should not be the goal, it should be enjoying the process of getting there.

Mortality tells us that it is the enjoyment of engaging in activities that is going to matter and will be remembered. Not much would be remembered when rushing through the fields of lavender at a made pace.

The internalization of mortality speaks to us about the importance of the present and of the limited time that is given to us. The boat we are in is slowly, but inadvertently, drifting with the current towards a waterfall. A month lost in trivialities is never regained, it says.

A life with the presence of mortality is sobering, humbling, calming, grounding. Even more so, and in a strange way, by reminding us of our limits, it also liberates us from the shackles of time.

Ciao.

Wormholes and transitions

 

Arun Kumar

Mother’s Day. Father’s Day. Every day of the year is devoted to celebrating something.

For all germophobic out there during the time of COVID, there is also a day to celebrate cleanliness. Down the road, soon there might be a national mask wearing day.

Or maybe, every day of the year should be a national mask wearing day. Not only would we have fought the pandemic better, but there would also have been less bickering among the politicians.

There is also the day of our reckoning when the sum of all days in life is tallied, and a number written on a folded sheet is handed to us. That number is the Karma of all our deeds. We just hope that the number is positive, and we had a life that was well lived.

One day at a time, either lived with celebration or otherwise, the entire life passes away. It all happens in the units of a day.

Day is the fundamental unit that keeps turning pages of calendars into the past. The passing of the day is also a reminder of the impermanence of everything that surrounds us. The span of the day there are so many beginnings and endings.

It is a universal truth that everything begins, and everything ends. The subtle signs of beginnings and endings are everywhere. Some on a cosmic scale — a star exploding, its life coming to an end. In its last breath, it illuminates the night sky.

Others are more nuanced — a seed sprouting on the sidewalk living precariously and hoping to see another sunrise and not get run over by some wandering feet. If lucky, it will grow to give the much-needed shade to some restless soul.

The connection between beginnings and endings is a period of transitions. Transitions are the wormholes that connect the endless cycle of beginnings and endings.

It seems inevitable that the smooth passage of time will eventually be punctuated by transitions — something ends and makes room for something new to begin. The day when we leave home to go to college followed by the day we finish college and embark on a long career, followed by…

In navigating most of these transitions, the stepping stones are all laid out for us. The wormhole is already in place and all that is needed is to step into it. With the ease and naturalness of breathing, we close one door behind and open another in front.

Every transition, however, is not that easy. In some, there is no wormhole waiting for us. There is nothing obvious in front of us to step into.

After some endings, to navigate further, we have our work cut out. We have to construct the wormhole, and that could turn out to be like a layperson needing to learn quantum mechanics. It is not a trivial endeavor.

Some transitions, like the day we retire, or the day when the realization of mortality begins to stick to our skin fall in that category.

Another category of hard transitions could be struggling to navigate the wormhole that connects psychological changes in perspectives. One such change in perspective is how we perceive the passage of the day, and it happens when we begin to realize the fundamental importance of the day, the basic unit of how we spend our time.

Before the change in perspective a day used to be just a day. It started and it ended. Nothing more and nothing less. The sun rose, and many hours later, it set.

Afterwards is the awareness that the passage of a day means much more than it seems to be.

Beneath the surface, there is an awareness that days add up to a week, weeks to a month, months to a year, and years to a life lived. With that, how we decide to live a day adds up to how we lived this life.

At some point of time in life a realization comes that on average we live around 30,000 days (~ 82 years) and out of that we have already lived 25,000 days (~ 68 years), and what is left is 5,000 (~ 14 years) more to go.

The span of life counted in the number of days is a jarring change of perspective and adjusting to this transition requires building a wormhole.

And did you know that there is also a national wine day. A day we can all look forward to longingly.

Ciao.