On aging, belonging, and being of service
Reflections from my Harvard reunion
I was all set to go to my 20-year reunion at Harvard in 2020. I had just published my first book, Regenerative Purpose. I was on my way to speak at a TEDx event. I was on a high. I had momentum. And then, COVID happened. Everything for that year was suspended in stop-motion. We hit pause for an ever-lengthening intermission.
I stalled and stumbled in the lull. Clients dropped one by one. Planned retreats were cancelled. I shut down my online eco-product business. Suddenly there was a lot of empty space where there had been excitement and expansion, just a moment before.
I fell into something akin to depression. I stopped working at anything remotely resembling what I was trained for. I started doing many things that I had zero experience in. It was a massive inner renovation.
As the borders closed, I committed to a physical location. I released my identity as a digital nomad and high-ticket executive coach. I let that old version of me dissolve. What has emerged from the imaginal goo is a zealous advocate of purpose alignment, part-time psychedelic healing guide, and full-time land stewardess.
Fast forward another five years. The timing for the next reunion was perfect. I was ripe for my return – not as heroine, but as human. Without the hype. Without the masks. Without all of the achievements to prop up my age-resistant insecurities.
I wasn’t ready for that five years ago. Only now could I show up, real.
The reunion turned out to be part reminder, and part activation.
A whirl of greetings and feelings
There was none of the awkward posturing and pretentiousness that I feared. There also wasn’t much space for the deep connection that I craved. It was a high-voltage blur of drinks and meals, nostalgic walks, swag grabs, speaker panels, cursory life updates, and lots of picture taking.
We made a ritual greeting of “You haven’t aged at all!” — even if every re-meeting made us weep a little for our lost youth. I see myself as wiser, but also older, especially as I look into the bright mirror of these faces that first met me as an 18-year old. I see a face that has been creased by laughter and sun. I see a body that has collected scars of experience.
There was grief. I miss the younger me, who I imagine to be more ambitious, more energetic, more fun, more innocent than the me I know today.
There was regret. I chide myself for not taking self-care seriously enough before. Wear sunscreen, someone wise once said. Is it too late now?
There was comparison. I wonder — not about the money I never made or the awards I never won — but about the kids I never had, and the loving husband that I still haven’t found.
There is lament over the roads not taken. There is existential exhaustion from the losses we accumulate in life. And then, there are the growth rings, the gains in wisdom, the deepening trust and resilience.
On that topic, we had a touchingly heartfelt panel of speakers who had taken “unexpected paths.” The twists and turns and unplanned detours that they described are reflected in my own journey as well.
As I witnessed my own way of winding through those unlit corridors, I see a new elder birthing — one that is only now beginning to crown.
Expected and unexpected paths
The title of that speaker panel made me wonder about what it was that we expected. How did we collude in defining the expected path, so that it made the life we ended up actually having so “un-?” Was it supposed to be a path free from struggle or suffering? Was it supposed to be a path that was planned, controlled and perfectly packaged for the pedigreed golden child?
When you get the Harvard brand attached to your name, it’s a tectonic shift in your identity. It means being anointed with immense privilege. It also means being burdened with a lot of expectation.
We’re supposed to be someone special. We’re supposed to do something significant. We’re not meant to struggle or to suffer. We’re meant to know how it all turns out before we begin.
I must have believed those things once. But I discovered that those beliefs have all been shed now. With age comes the loss of youthful delusions, but along with that, the loss of hesitation and self-doubt.
Time teaches us this thing about time – that it only passes. So, there’s no sense in waiting for permission to be yourself.
Reunion weekend was the first time since getting admitted to Harvard that I truly felt like I belonged there. And this sense of belonging had no quality, no qualification connected with it. It had nothing to do with me, or my life since graduation. It was the feeling of peace that comes when you feel like you belong wherever you are, simply because you are there.
I have rarely called upon my Harvard pedigree. I left the straight and narrow expected path quite a while ago. I traveled the world for a solid decade with no use for credentials. In the new age spiritual community where I live now, it seemed more like a liability than an asset. I kept quiet about it, fearful of the projections I thought it would invite. “Ohhh, you went to Harvard?” That means you must be… rich. entitled. cold. arrogant. domineering. morally bankrupt. (Feel free to insert your own knee-jerk judgment here.)
The biggest growth ring I see, 25 years after graduating, is the one marking how little power the weighty Harvard name now has over me. The projections that come with this mega name brand can be positive or negative, but either way, I don’t mind so much anymore.
The Harvard name no longer triggers an offensive reaction in me: to prove my capability or worthiness to the establishment. It also no longer triggers a defensive reaction in me: to make a case for my human-ness to the anti-establishment.
Harvard just is: an incredible honor, yet nothing remarkable.
What Harvard means to me now
Harvard is a place where I lived, studied, and made connections – some deep, some fleeting. It is just one of the ecosystems that I happen to be part of and participate in. I touch a multitude of ecosystems, in unique combination. These combined threads are what set my place in the fabric of existence.
It is a great blessing to be part of the Harvard community. I don’t know any other collective that includes individuals with such diverse backgrounds and pursuits, that also has such a strong culture of mutual respect. We are united by our training in intellectual inquiry. We share a certain level of diligence around — and dare I say appetite for — questioning anything. We are united by our pursuit of truth: “Veritas,” as it says on our emblem.
And yes, Harvard can be criticized for many ills and distortions. It is far from perfect. But it exemplifies two important lighthouse qualities. It is a context carefully and deliberately architected for diversity — not only in terms of nationality, ethnicity and social identity, but also in terms of economic standing and intellectual diversity. And what Harvard teaches is the increasingly rare art of critical thinking. In my mind, these two things make it a place worth defending and preserving.
As one reunion speaker pointed out, there are a set of inscriptions above one gate to Harvard Yard. As you walk in, it reads: “Enter to grow in wisdom.” (Note: Wisdom, not knowledge.) As you leave, it reads: “Depart to serve better thy country and thy kind.” Wisdom and service are the keynotes.
For me, that wisdom may have only started to accrue after leaving the university. Though I believe the seeds of wisdom as an aim were planted whilst there. And what has since transformed the burden of privilege for me is the repeated re-orientation towards service.
The reminder and the activation were ultimately the same thing.
We are reminded of our humanity — that which always is/was — before, during and after our years of schooling and striving. We are reminded so we may stand humbly in wholeness, as imperfect and fallible human beings with nothing to prove. May that remembrance become an activation for greater service to humanity, within and around us.
I so love this piece, Wendy! Reading your thoughts helped me take my own breath and think about my reunion experience -- all the powerful takeaways. Thank you for writing and sharing.
Would you mind if I post a shout out about your substack, and in particular this post, on our bumpin class WhatsApp group?
A wonderful reflection. Thank you!