Why Wisdom Is More Important to Me Than New Skills
I’ve acquired enough skills for a lifetime. I don’t need or want more—at least not ones that require a significant time commitment to learn and execute.
I might be forced to acquire a few more practical skills out of necessity.
For example, after my gray divorce, I learned how to handle various practical tasks, from changing the battery in my car's key fob to repairing cracks in my ceiling. I’m not averse to learning more life basics—the simple ones.
Do I want to learn to blow glass, excel at poker, or cook culinary delights?
No!
Skills are for humans. On the other hand, our spirit needs presence, full-heartedness, and wisdom.
Shouldn’t we focus more on the spiritual dimension of being in our later years?
Aging strips away our human capabilities—sometimes gradually, sometimes quickly.
I can no longer take steps two at a time. Indeed, I’ve developed a phobia of stairs without handrails. Right about the fourth step, I fold over like an animal seeking its ground.
I can accept the second law of thermodynamics. Everything decays—even me. I don’t want to delude myself from this powerful truth by signing up for piano lessons.
If you want to prioritize new skills, that’s okay with me. I won’t judge you.
I admire my friend Gary Buzzard, who became a writer at 77. Learning new skills can boost your brain, bring waves of joy, and demolish the blues, all of which can add tremendously to an older person’s life.
But new obsessions can also distract us from our inner essence, the part of us that continues when we leave all our skills behind.
Human skills won’t necessarily help me as I edge closer to my final exit. I won’t need to know 101 ways to use my new air fryer.
I’ll need:
The strength to face the various stages of death—when the body becomes heavy, the hearing dull, and the breath labored.
The courage to let go of family, friends, and possessions and be open to the uncertainty ahead.
The humility to forgive those who have trespassed against me and the willingness to ask forgiveness from those I’ve faulted.
Wisdom isn’t just for your last breath, either. It benefits you now through the inner peace, compassion, and insight it brings.
As Westerners, we’re taught to squeeze every moment out of this life until the very end with cruises, travel tours, and learning new skills. We assume our soul will know what to do when Infinity opens its doors.
Some spiritual traditions, however, recognize that deepening one’s spirituality takes time. They recommend cultivating wisdom in our retirement years rather than waiting until the very last minute.
Let’s see what the yoga tradition says.
I first learned about the “Four Stages of Life” according to the yoga tradition in an article by Deborah Willoughby on aging gracefully.
The Four Stages of Life according to the yoga tradition, in brief, are:
Student—the learning stage of childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood
Householder—the working phase of one’s life when you might also raise a family and engage in civic duties
Forest-dweller — akin to the retirement stage, but in the yoga tradition, the balance of your attention turns from the external to your spiritual essence
Renunciate—Letting go of your attachments to the transitory material world and engaging in full with the eternal as you approach death
In her mid-fifties, Willoughby worked more hours than ever as president of the Himalayan Institute and editor of Yoga International magazine. Her spiritual mentor told her she worked too much and advised her to train a replacement.
Willoughby resisted this suggested move into the forest-dweller stage of life. In response, her spiritual teacher told her:
“You are misdirecting your attention. You’re constantly telling yourself, ‘This is what is real. These administrative problems are real. Producing a magazine is my purpose in life.’ Your endless focus on these externals drowns out the subtle dimension. It’s time for your focus to shift and your awareness to expand, but you’re resisting.”—Panditji
Without a clear replacement in sight, Willoughby put aside her teacher’s sage advice and continued to work long hours. Her meditation practice consisted mostly of endless to-do lists running through her head.
Then, her retina detached. Stubbornly, she returned to work after the first operation. It detached again, requiring a second operation. It wasn’t until her fourth retinal detachment when she could barely see to walk, that she entered into a longer recovery period and began the shift into the forest-dweller stage.
During her recovery, Willoughby reflected on how strongly she had clung to her self-identity—all that felt familiar, comfortable, and self-affirming. She saw how her desire for continuity had made the transition to the unknowns of the next stage difficult.
With her vision impaired, Willoughby was forced to slow down physically. Interestingly, she noticed she could see better when she paid attention at each moment. She also sensed a subtle force when she paid the same degree of attention in her meditation practice.
The forest-dweller stage doesn’t literally mean you retire to a secluded spot in the woods, although it could. But generally, it represents a shift in balance with more focus on inner spiritual exploration and less attention on external activities and engagement.
You must discover the right balance of internal and external for yourself.
Due to our attachment to the identity we developed in the householder state, transitioning to the forest-dweller stage isn't easy. You could approach it gradually to make it less difficult. Add a little more of the spiritual into your life as each month goes by—whether it’s reading spiritual texts, meditation, prayer, or acts of service.
Or plunge in fully if that suits you best.
Remember my friend Gary Buzzard, who became a writer at age 77? He also engages in daily meditation and occasionally attends a Zen retreat. His writing, too, is meant to help others stay positive as they age.
That’s the kind of balance between the spiritual and material we need in the forest-dweller stage of life.
As Panditji says, we have something precious to experience and achieve in this lifetime. Old age can be a portal into our spiritual essence if we have the courage to enter into the forest-dweller stage during our retirement years.
“As long as we remain inspired to discover why we came to this world, we remain youthful. Old age has no power over us when we are accompanied by faith that we have something precious to experience and achieve in this lifetime. This faith sparks a burning desire to know the true nature of the invisible force that lies at the core of our being, and when it wells up, nothing — not the lack of worldly resources, a limited knowledge of philosophy, the absence of a living guide, or even old age — can stand in the way of our inner fulfillment.” — Panditji
That’s why I prioritize wisdom over gaining new skills.
I have my enjoyable distractions. I relieve stress by coloring in adult coloring books. I see my best friends once a week. I’m entranced by YouTube videos on neurodiversity, off-grid life, and current astrology.
But I know I could easily get lost in learning and acquiring new skills.
So, I prioritize engaging in wisdom-enhancing activities like meditation, contemplation, and spiritual study. Because I want to know more about my true nature than anything else.
[Photo by Jill Wellington on Pexels]
Thank you for your presence; I know your time is precious! Don’t forget to sign up for Wild Arisingstack.com, my twice-monthly letters from the heart filled with insights, inspiration, and ideas to help you connect with and live from your truest self.
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