Ancient Wisdom Reveals 6 Secrets To A Long Awesome Life

The thing about aging is that it’s sneaky. It doesn’t just show up one day, wearing a T-shirt that says, “I’m here to ruin your life.” No, it’s more subtle, like a ninja with joint pain.

But that doesn’t mean it’s the graceful, Helen Mirren-in-a-L’Oréal-ad kind of aging. You used to wake up with a song in your heart. Now you wake up with acid reflux. Your bladder is the size of a shot glass and your body has decided, without consulting you, that anything past the hour of ten is an act of sedition.

And no one warns you about the eyebrows. Once they were orderly, maybe even attractive. Now they’re auditioning for the role of “angry wizard” in some low-budget fantasy movie. They shoot out in all directions, like they’re signaling for help from other, more coherent eyebrows. Meanwhile, the hair that’s supposed to be on your head is bailing like it’s heard there’s a better party somewhere else.

And, sadly, there’s the creeping sense that you’re becoming irrelevant. You reach an age where you realize you don’t understand the world anymore. Everything is suddenly designed by and for someone else.

What should we do? Just shrug? That’s not a plan; that’s a premature obituary. We need insight. And this time we’re going old school. We’re gonna get tips from the ancient Roman statesman and scholar Cicero.

Cicero’s main talent was oratory. This guy could talk. He had opinions about everything. And I mean everything. Name a topic, any topic, and Cicero had a twelve-volume treatise on it. Friendship? Book. How to tell a joke? Book. How to grieve? Book. How to win an argument? You guessed it — book.

So we’re gonna take a few choice lessons from his treatise, “How to Grow Old.”

Let’s get to it…

 

“A Good Old Age Begins In Youth”

So you’re headed toward the third act of life. The credits aren’t rolling yet, but you can hear the orchestra warming up in the pit. This period is going to be a lot easier if you developed some good habits in your youth.

Good habits when you’re young are like a bizarre form of time travel. You’re sending little care packages to your future self.

Truth is, no one wants to hear about good habits. They’re not sexy. They’re not even moderately attractive in that “I know you’re bad for me, but I’m drawn to you anyway” kind of way.

But whatever age you are, if you haven’t built those good habits yet, start ASAP. You think it’s hard getting to the gym now? Wait until your knees make noises like bubble wrap being slowly crushed under the weight of a disappointed god. How often do you hear older people say, “Oh, it’s so easy for me to make changes”? You don’t. So make them now before it gets even harder and you start hearing sentences like, “No, that’s not a freckle; get it checked.”

Developing good habits young is like hacking your future self. It’s about tricking that future version of you into thinking they were born with a natural affinity for eating right and getting enough sleep.

(For more on how to build good habits, click here.)

So what else can we learn from Cicero — other than “Do not mess with Marc Antony”?

 

“Old Age Can Be A Wonderful Part Of Life”

You know what they don’t tell you about getting older? It’s not just a slow crawl toward irrelevance and bifocals; research consistently shows old people are happier.

Why?

They’re not happier because they’re enlightened. They’re happier because they’ve just stopped giving a damn about everything that used to stress them out.

Studies show as we age, neuroticism declines. When you’re young, you’re constantly worried: “Does this outfit make me look weird?” “Am I saying the right thing?” But when you’re old? It’s like someone updated your brain’s operating system, but instead of getting a sleek new interface, it just turns off the useless negative mental notifications that used to pop up.

And let’s talk about the best-kept secret of old age: being “eccentric.” When you’re young, everyone’s constantly telling you to act like a grown-up. Be polite, smile, keep your opinions to yourself. But when you’re old, you’re like, “Nope, time to release the Kraken.”

You finally get to say whatever you want. You can tell your grandchildren you were a spy or a circus performer. You can roll up to a family gathering and announce, “That’s the ugliest baby I’ve ever seen!” and instead of getting punched, everyone just kind of nods and goes, “Oh, Nana!” as if you’ve suddenly become this charming, unpredictable rogue.

When you’re old, you can eat anything at any time, and everyone just shrugs and says, “Well, he’s old!” When you’re young, you’re like, “I’ll have the grilled salmon salad with the dressing on the side.” But when you’re older, it’s like, “Bring me a stack of pancakes as tall as a toddler, and I want syrup on everything. I’m here to eat breakfast like I’ve been wronged by life.”

You’ve played the game long enough to realize you don’t have to play anymore. You’re past the point of worrying about being cool, because cool is a moving target, and frankly, you’re tired of running after it in uncomfortable shoes. Because who are you trying to impress at this point? Your only goal now is to not end up as a cautionary tale on the local news.

It’s the one time in your life you can look completely feral, and people will just smile at you like you’re their favorite character in a Wes Anderson movie.

You know why else old folks are happier? They ditch people who irritate them. When you’re young, you’re basically a social hoarder. Everyone gets in. But as you age, something beautiful happens: the Great Cull begins. It’s like you’ve suddenly discovered the “unsubscribe” button for bad relationships.

Honestly, if I’d known that getting old came with this many treats, I would have skipped my 30’s altogether.

(To learn the four secrets to happiness that older folks can teach us, click here.)

Yup, it’s a more pleasant time. But that doesn’t mean it’s without responsibilities…

 

“Old Age Need Not Deny Us An Active Life”

Time is an undefeated heavyweight champion who cheats, bites, and fights dirty. We need to stay active to resist its wear and tear.

The minute you stop moving, gravity gets ideas. It’s not just a force; it’s an opportunist. Gravity sees you sitting still and thinks, “Brilliant, I’ll just slowly pull everything down.” And I’m not just talking about your backside migrating south to merge with your hamstrings in some kind of flesh-colored continental drift. Staying active also convinces the cosmos to extend your contract.

You don’t have to do anything extreme to get benefits. You are not 25 anymore. At 25, you could run up a hill just because it was there. Now, the only reason you’d run up a hill is if a very large dog was chasing you, and even then, you’d probably just lie down and hope it’s a friendly dog.

When you’re old, exercise becomes a different beast altogether. It’s no longer about sculpting your abs into a six-pack; it’s about being able to bend down and pick up your shoes without calling Life Alert. You don’t have to do superheroic feats. I’m talking about the bare minimum to avoid becoming a human-shaped gelatin mold that quivers every time someone sets down their coffee cup too hard.

Keep moving. Stretch, walk, lift things that aren’t just pints of ice cream.

(For more on how to stay healthy as you age, click here.)

Oh, and we also need to discuss your brain. Cicero was careful to single that one out…

 

“The Mind Is A Muscle That Must Be Exercised”

I don’t mean to alarm you, but cognitive decline is real, and it’s coming for you, one unchallenged neuron at a time. You do not want to be one of those people who spends 20 minutes trying to figure out how to work the remote, only to find out they’ve been holding a stapler the whole time.

If you don’t actively do things to keep your brain sharp, your grandkids are going to find you trying to cook soup in the washing machine and having a serious discussion with your reflection about what brand of cat food you’re going to buy for your dog. And you don’t even have a dog.

Read books that intimidate you. Something that makes you think, “Who wrote this? And why did they hate me?” Watch documentaries that make your head hurt. Learn how to swear in ten different languages because, let’s be honest, that’s always useful.

Challenge your brain to a duel every single day. Because the more you maintain those mental abilities, the more you can enjoy your golden years. And no, not “golden” in that depressing, pastel Hallmark card kind of way, but in the way where you’re still making new memories, still learning, still living.

You want your later years to be as rich and full of mischief as your earlier ones. You don’t want to end up talking to the toaster about the weather. And you definitely don’t want the toaster to start talking back.

(For more on how to keep your brain sharp as you age, click here.)

What other advice from 2000 years ago has stood the test of time?

 

“Cultivate Your Own Garden”

Now when Cicero said, “cultivate your garden,” he didn’t mean we should all rush out to Home Depot and start buying mulch.

What he meant was that without hobbies, without activities, life becomes this long, slow decline into nothingness. And not the poetic kind of nothingness where you sit by a lake contemplating the nature of existence. No, I’m talking about the kind of nothingness where you become that old person who shows up at the grocery store three times a day just to talk to the cashier.

You need hobbies to prove you’re still in the game, that you’ve got some fight left, that you’re not just another soul sliding slowly into the tar pit of late-life regret.

A hobby is like an anchor for your sanity. You need to be passionate about something. I don’t care if it’s knitting or starting an amateur rock band called The Arthritics—just be into something. Find something, anything, that lights a fire under your shrinking behind.

(For deep insight from David Epstein on how to find your passion, click here.)

Okay, we’ve covered a lot. Let’s round it all up – and we’ll find out where those young whippersnappers fit into this revitalized vision of your golden years…

 

Sum Up

This is how to age well…

• “A Good Old Age Begins In Youth”: Developing good habits when you’re young is like slowly preparing for the collapse of civilization, only the civilization is your body. If you start now, when you’re 85 you’ll be able to do something cool like remember why you walked into a room.
• “Old Age Can Be A Wonderful Part Of Life”: You stop sweating the small stuff, mostly because you’ve lost your glasses and can’t see the small stuff anyway.
• “Old Age Need Not Deny Us An Active Life”: You need to stay active. Why? Because if you don’t, your body says, “Oh, you don’t need me to work anymore? Cool, I’ll just disassemble myself, one joint at a time.”
• “The Mind Is A Muscle That Must Be Exercised”: Aging might be inevitable, but mental stagnation is a choice. Keep your mind sharp and you’ll be able to figure out how to get the remote to work without calling your niece for the fifth time this week.
• “Cultivate Your Own Garden”: Passions make us interesting and keep us vibrant. They stop us from becoming the person who thinks “living” is just the opposite of “dying.”

So what did Cicero have to say about where young people fit into a good old age?

“Older People Have Much To Teach The Young”

Now you might be thinking, “Eric, they don’t want our wisdom. They want our Netflix password.”

Look, at some point, you’re going to find yourself face-to-face with a young person who needs your help. Some 22-year-old with glowing skin and knees that work. Maybe they wandered over because you look like you’ve seen some stuff, or maybe they think you’re just the right mix of approachable and desperate.

You’re thinking, “What do I have to teach anyone except the proper use of the phrase ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’?”

But young people need mentors. All the research shows they’re essential.

When you open your mouth, you’ll start to realize how much you know. You know that credit cards are not, in fact, free money and why that face tattoo of a flaming skull might not be the best way to impress a hiring manager.

And as you’re explaining the basics of functioning adulthood to them, you’ll notice something else: it’s fun. It’s an ego boost with a side of altruism. As I discussed in my first book, studies show being a mentor can be more rewarding than being a mentee.

They’re reminding you that you still have things to offer, that you didn’t bumble your way through existence for nothing. And somehow, improbably, your dubious choices and half-baked wisdom might just help someone else survive their own spectacular series of misadventures.

Before you know it, you’ve swapped wisdom for energy. You’re sucking up that youthful zest for life like a vampire who found a new vein. It’s like taking a sip from the Fountain of Youth (except it may come with a relentless barrage of memes.)

So let’s lean into every gray hair, every laugh line, every inexplicable new ache, because all of it is proof that we’ve outlasted most of the nonsense. Cicero was right: Aging is an art form. But it’s less like painting a masterpiece and more like finger-painting with your grandkids.

Old age isn’t the horror show everyone makes it out to be. Sure, there are the creaks and pops and the fact that you’ve started making involuntary noises every time you get up from a chair, but whatever.

That’s the soundtrack of wisdom, baby.