I escaped the city last weekend to travel to upstate New York, and on the train ride there I listened to Wiser Than Me, a podcast by Julia Louis-Dreyfus where she interviews older women whose wisdom she believes she (and we) will benefit from.

The first episode was with Jane Fonda, and I especially wanted to tune in as it felt like a great fit for the longevity theme I’ve been focusing on with a client. At age 85, Jane talks about acting, activism, sex, fantasizing about funerals, and what it’s really like to be in her third act.

One of the things that jumped out to me was when Jane shared that true old age, when you’re actually inside it, isn’t nearly as scary as you might have imagined it to be. Of course, every experience is different and there are certainly a number of challenges that come with aging, but Jane’s insights did make me think more about how often we’re taught to fear the future.

Aging is often framed as a time of loss and decline. We’re led to believe that the best parts of our life, the ones truly worth living for, are behind us. That almost all of our ships have sailed and, with them, many of our opportunities.

Sometimes opportunity does indeed come with a rigid window. There are periods of time that we simply can’t extend or revisit, no matter how much we might wish to, and there’s some grief attached to knowing that.

But fearing each decade that comes to greet us robs us of the joy of living in the present moment and can also adversely impact our mental and physical health. If we really believe that life is all downhill from here, what’s our motivation to keep going? Without purpose, or joy, what’s the point?

In 1979, Dr. Ellen J. Langer conducted a “counterclockwise” experiment where she took a group of eight men in their 70s and set them up in a house where, for 5 days, they lived as if it were 1959. They weren’t only remembering what life was like 20 years prior, they were actively living as though they were two decades younger.

As part of the set up, there were physical props from the 50s era including magazines, television programs, movies and music. Twice a day there were discussions about things that happened in 1959, including the need for bomb shelters to protect the country against Soviet powers and Castro’s advance on Havana.

The participants were instructed to talk about these events using the present tense, as though they were current events, and not to refer to anything that happened in the world, or their personal lives, after 1959. There were no mirrors, no modern-day clothing, and no photos, except portraits of their much younger selves.

Men in a comparison group lived at the same retreat for a week discussing the same topics, but with one key difference: they spent the week reminiscing about these events, using in the past tense in their discussions.

For both groups, hearing, memory and grip strength improved. Photos of participants were rated as appearing significantly younger after the retreat than before. However, the experimental group outperformed the comparison in all tasks, including measures of vision, joint flexibility, manual dexterity, IQ, gait, posture and decreased symptoms of arthritis.

Dr. Langer believes that the power of our minds is far more than we can imagine, and the results of this study alone prove how tangibly our thoughts can impact our reality. Which poses the question: how much of what we fear is brought about because we fear it?

If we continually affirm to ourselves that our future will be boring and bleak, or that old age will be a time of pain and hardship, are we not reinforcing the likelihood of that actually transpiring?

Holding tight to future beliefs impacts the choices we make today. If I’m convinced that my body is going to get weaker each year and that I’ve already reached my peak physical health then I’m less likely to prioritize daily movement or nourishing foods because apparently I’m fighting a losing battle anyway.

But if I decide to focus on a future where I have chance of continuing to thrive then I’m more likely to make choices that align with that belief. I’ll show up for myself differently. I’ll care for myself differently.

There’s almost always evidence to support any given theory. We’ve all heard of someone (who knows someone who knows someone) who smoked cigarettes and drank whisky their whole life and lived to be 102. And we all know people who have led active lifestyles, chosen nutritious foods, done all the “right” things and still left this world far too soon.

There are no guarantees on any path. But it feels a whole lot more energizing to choose the path of possibility rather than the dead end that has already decided its fate.

These days, I live my life choosing to believe that something beautiful is about to happen. If nothing else, it keeps me hopeful and optimistic. This doesn’t mean I’m burying my head in the sand and ignoring the harsher sides of reality or things I have a responsibility to address, but I’m allowing myself to stay open and not succumb to the belief that everything is tinged with doom.

I’m not naive enough to think that every 85 year old is living like Jane Fonda. I’m not disregarding the many intersections of privilege, or luck, that afford some people to have a wholly different experience of aging than others. But I also know that I cannot reap what I haven’t started to sow.

Jane could have chosen to live in fear of her third act. And she would have missed out on so much life because of it. Fear would have dominated each decade and undoubtedly impacted her overall aging experience. As Andy Dufresne said in The Shawshank Redemption: “You either get busy living or get busy dying.”

I want to be busy living.

The future has the potential to unfold in thousands of amazing ways. Anything is possible. Let’s not place limits on a life we haven't yet lived.

If you’d like to see more posts like this, join me over on Substack. You’ll get all my latest musings emailed to you so you won’t miss a thing.