This year, I spent the 4th of July in Harbor Springs, Michigan, traveling with my 7-year-old grandson. I was going to connect with my son, who served as the music director at the Highlands Resort summer musical dinner theater production.
Harbor Springs is a lakeside town in Northern Michigan, an affluent community that teems with rustic charm. Quaint lakeside homes/cottages align the streets, and because it is just across the bay from Mackinac Island where no motor vehicles are permitted, bikes and boats were everywhere.
Part of the charm includes the fabulous Highlands Ski Resort, a supper club with a dinner show, a lodge with all the amenities, and a duck pond that sits right in the middle of the grounds. A pristine environment, it holds an element of peace that emanates throughout the space.
It was not the season for skiing, but there were lift rides to the top of the ski mountain where folks could go to explore and hike and see the view.
I was offered the opportunity to take a ride on the ski lift up to the top of the mountain, and once up there, to hike the trail. My initial reaction was thanks but no thanks!! I don’t do heights, hiking, or heat. I couldn’t imagine doing it nor could I imagine enjoying it. But when all was said and done, at my son’s urging, I relented and took the lift up to the top of the mountain. To my delight, it was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. The view was so spectacular—the hike was not as oppressive as I feared it would be. Additionally, I was surprised when we ran into bikers and other walkers, one of whom was a woman about 81 years young. She was walking with these long thin sticks. We stopped and chatted a bit, and she amazed me explaining that she “summers” here at the Highlands and takes on this trail for an hour 2-3 times a week.
After about 45 minutes we made our way back to the lift and went back down the mountain!
At the end of it, I experienced a tremendous sense of accomplishment. Just prior to this —like two-to-three days before the undertaking this experience in 90 degrees, I definitely would not even have considered such a thing.
I imagine this is what it’s like to go ahead and live life; meaning to engage in activities that are out of our comfort zone. As we enter into this seasoned time of life, of course this is not to suggest that we should all run out and become daredevils and do things like the late Evel Knievel and jump the span between two skyscrapers on a motorcycle, or walk a tightrope like the Amazing Wallenda; clearly these type of activities are not for everyone. But at the same time, it is important to be open to ways of adding dimension to your life. Even as a senior, it is still important to face fears. A life well-lived is lived with flourish, not necessarily like a daredevil, but with positive posture on your ability to achieve, accomplish your earnest desire, or at least take a chance on life. There are a few ways to do this:
A life well-lived first means being present, being in the moment, recognizing the air we breathe, birds singing early in the morning and grasping the precious moments that we sometimes lose because we are lingering in some place of pain or disappointment from the past. More importantly, being present allows us to savor the simple pleasures and to find meaning – even in its challenges, as in taking a ride up on a scary ski lift and taking a 40-minute hike in 90-degree heat.
Next, a life well-lived requires living with purpose. It is purpose that helps navigate our days.
And finally, gratitude and passion make for a life well-lived. The more gratitude we have for “everything” the more we will have to be grateful for. Being passionate about our pursuits is a key to accomplishment.
In short, it is important to realize that a life well-lived does not happen by chance; it is crafted, moment by moment, by the choices we make. To truly live is to rise each day with intention, to meet each experience with curiosity, compassion and courage. It is to fill our days not just with activity, but with meaning.
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