Comments on: What if it’s not a midlife crisis?

By: Engaging the Disquiet » Blog Archive » Hit the “Pause” button

Sun, 30 Mar 2008 13:23:35 +0000

[...] sharmishta: I recently hada frienbd who experienced this exact thing that Dave is mentioninbg about- i have spent… [...]

By: sharmishta

sharmishta — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 09:21:41 +0000

I recently hada frienbd who experienced this exact thing that Dave is mentioninbg about- i have spent half my life, and havent experienced half the things- i am old now- so let me leave my marriage , family and have all fun and frolic- nit sure if this reallyn means fun and frolic. he was inspired by thsia rticel. Daqve - request you to comment on this article called The Awakening by Sarah- Tho ‘ it’s good, it does not say one has to run from responsibilities.. isnntit? Thanks everyone who red this.. love to know your views.

By: Dave Schoof

Dave Schoof — Sun, 09 Mar 2008 03:36:46 +0000

Thanks Leslie! Mike - beautiful entry - thanks for sharing it!

By: Mike Sheridan

Mike Sheridan — Tue, 04 Mar 2008 10:22:54 +0000

Yup, been there too. At 39 I hit a certain wall of disquiet. I found it useful to firstly just stop what I was doing professionally, spend time with my family and write some things down. From my diary :
“I remember being in our back garden at 10 years old. We proudly referred to it all the time as being “a third of an acre”! It had trees and hedges, a big crab apple. It was late Summer / early Autumn and the wind was up. I was dressed in my school uniform. Still in short trousers with knees that were bruised and shoes that were scuffed and scratched. The wind came in gusts and stood me ridged for a few seconds and I braced myself against its push. I had been running about a few moments earlier on my own. Now I stood still and took a deep breath of air. I filled my lungs and energised my body. I closed my eyes and heard the leaves rustle. In waves the gusts pushed the hedge to my right and the sound made me open my eyes again to see the ripples of wind force along the hedge wall. I liked what I saw. Although it was late in the afternoon with fading light and a sky threatening cold and darkness, I relished again the rush of the wind on my face, forcing its way into me as if breathing was effortless. I made a conscious decision to stay where I was for a few moments more, watching the ripples in the grass and leaves tumbling and bouncing. The energy of the experience made me smile a happy smile and then I was off again running about the garden. This memory keeps coming back to me. Its the wind and the leaves mainly, the smell of the damp earth, clean air with the smell of winter. Perhaps the first smell of snow and ice from some northerly source. I believe that this was the first time that I had stopped. My surroundings had taken me by surprise and I stopped to take it all in. I had enjoyed the experience. It made me feel good. I didn’t know it at the time because I had little perspective. This has been my recurring dream, comprehending, I believe for the first time the joy of being alive. In the storm and darkness of previous months these images and then the whole dream came to the forefront of my mind. I believe my soul was telling me that I needed to go back there, to experience that joy.”

By: Leslie

Leslie — Wed, 16 Jan 2008 16:21:10 +0000

Dave, this is a wonderful and provocative article. I think it’s very valuable to question the phenomenon of mid life crisis.

I think that there is a difference between a mid-life itch and a deep mid-course questioning. By middle age, we often find ourselves in roles and institutions that we’ve been in for years. And how to keep that fresh is an important question - but perhaps does not constitute a crisis.

As I understand it, the Disquiet is not about merely keeping things fresh. It’s about attending to a deeper call from the soul. In the face of our mortality, the Disquiet pokes us out of our deep sleep, asking, “If you were to die tomorrow, would you feel that you had done what you came here to do? That you had become the best and fullest version of yourself?”

The Disquiet is that urgent voice within us that does not want us, in the words of Dawna Markova, to “die an unlived life,” the prospect of which is, indeed, a crisis - one that calls for an awake, engaged and immediate response.