With all the ups and downs I’ve been going through lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about life and what constitutes success and happiness. I’ve been through many different phases of life and had my share of accomplishments, but there are times—more than I like to admit—when I feel like my life is not at all what it should have been. I feel like I should be doing something that I’m not doing, or maybe like I’ve missed a step somewhere along the way.
Hinduism says that, although all people are different, we all move through four basic stages of life. The first stage—being a student—traditionally began in India somewhere between the ages of 8 and 12, and lasted for 12 years. The main goal during the student period is (obviously) to learn. But the stage of the student isn’t just about going to school, reading widely, and absorbing the wisdom of teachers and elders. It’s also about developing character and the good habits that will serve us for the rest of our lives.
I did my time as a student (and yes, I do mean “did time” as a reference to prison, since that’s pretty much what school felt like to me). In fact, I was a very good student. Even though school was boring, I did what I was supposed to do and I did it well in general. I think where I screwed up was in the part about cultivating good habits. Rather than developing a sense of discipline in me, my days in school merely taught me how to do as little as possible to get by. I’m thinking that’s not quite what the Hindus had in mind for the student stage.
The second stage of life is that of the “householder.” Traditionally, it starts when you get married and is the time when you build a family, advance your career, and become an established part of the larger community.
I’ve done a pretty crappy job on this stage so far, too. Yeah, I got married—and divorced. I bought a house—and it’s currently up for sale because it’s just too damn expensive now that the economy has gone to hell. So pretty soon I’ll be a divorced, childless, former householder whose “career” consists of sitting at home editing manuscripts and occasionally ranting about world religions online. Oh, yeah. That’s a big success.
Maybe instead of wallowing in my failure at the two stages of life I’ve experienced, I should look ahead to the third stage: retirement. Okay, I guess everybody looks forward to retirement, but Hindus tell us that retiring is not just about leaving your job, playing with your grandkids, and maybe moving to a condo in a warm climate to play shuffleboard. The stage of retirement—which traditionally begins when your first grandchild is born—is supposed to be a time of adult education. Now that your obligations to the working world are over, you focus your attention on learning what life is all about and figuring out your own personal philosophy. As Huston Smith puts it, “To find meaning in the mystery of existence is life’s final and fascinating challenge.”
Well, I’ve got to say, it doesn’t look promising that I'll personally ever reach the retirement stage. First off, I have no kids, and therefore, won’t have any grandchildren. And at the pathetic rate my bank account is building, I have my doubts that I’ll ever be able to withdraw entirely from the working world. Oh, well. I guess we’ll just have to ignore the obvious holes in my life and see what’s next.
The fourth and final stage of life is that of the sannyasin, or “one who neither hates nor loves anything,” according to the Bhagavad Gita. After spending the retirement years searching deeply for meaning and doing the hard work of figuring out who you are and what your place is in the mystery of life, you return to the world a new person. You exist, in the words of Huston Smith, as “a complete nonentity on the surface in order to be joined to all at roots.” In the Hindu tradition, the sannyasin is perfectly content living on the street with a begging bowl in hand.
Wow. That really doesn’t sound like something I’d enjoy. I guess we’ll see. But I’m definitely nowhere near ready for it now. I’ll somehow have to find a way to make it successfully through the other stages if I ever hope to become a sannyasin.
So maybe now is the time to start from scratch. I can be a student again. Why not? I’ve known people who were in their 40s and 50s who never left college or got jobs. I can sure as hell start learning again at the age of 38. So let’s run with that idea.
Being a student now seems just about right, considering how lost I feel doing this project. We can consider this phase of my life a "do over" for my original student stage. I'll do it all over again. Then I can move on to become a householder (and this time, I’ll do it better). Then I can be a retiree and maybe, eventually, even a sannyasin. Who cares if I’m well past the traditional maximum age of the Hindu student, 20 to 24? People are always saying things like “40 is the new 20,” so I hereby boldly declare that 38 is the new 18. That works, right?
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