Thoughts on later life

“…we believe a full life is one that gets richer with age … rediscovering lost passions and plunging headfirst into new ones … embracing new experiences … bringing joy and meaning to every moment.” This is a shortened version of the text on the website of Ryman Healthcare. Is it realistic to expect old age, whether or not in a Ryman retirement village, to be so idyllic? Or is it more likely to be dominated by adversities such as loss of health and vitality both mental and physical, lack of occupation, reduced income, bereavement, loss of status, social isolation, and the prospect of death whether feared or welcomed? I expect it depends a lot on individual attitude.

Quite a number of my own contemporaries have died before reaching old age, having for no apparent reason developed some fatal disease, usually cancer. Others are still alive and during my recent holiday in England I had the pleasure of renewing friendships with some of those I have known for a long time – from high school, medical school, or hospital jobs in Southampton and Oxford. Since coming back home I have also met up with my New Zealand friends. Our conversations often touched on the question of how to adjust to retirement.

Almost all of us, in our 70s or 80s, have the good fortune to be living in comfortable circumstances with reasonably good health, family connections and ample money, allowing plenty of choice about how to spend our free time after leaving paid employment. My friends described a wide range of activities including charity work, looking after grandchildren or animals, gardening, travel, socialising, entertainments, reading, writing, cooking, painting, crafts, sports, fitness classes, music, academic study, spiritual practice.

Everyone seemed fairly content, especially those who were pursuing some compelling interest, or simply enjoying the freedom to relax and do just what they liked. Others, more introspective, found their lifestyle pleasant enough but questioned whether they were making the best use of whatever time might remain. Some were missing former jobs which had involved contributing to society and being recognised for it. They had not been able to find a type of voluntary work which made full use of their abilities and experience.

One woman who is highly artistic stated that the most vital thing was to express creativity, if only for oneself. I agreed that creativity is very important but felt that the resulting products should be shared with others. There is an example of these differing views at home, where my husband and I both spend a lot of time writing. He does it primarily for his own satisfaction and does not care much whether anyone else ever sees it. In contrast, I like to publish my work in the hope that some readers will benefit from my medical books or enjoy my novels – while trying not to be too flattered by good reviews or too upset by bad ones, for the Stoic philosophers advised against seeking appreciation. They said that the best way to live – at any age – is by striving to be a good person, and focusing only on things you control.

“No good deed goes unpunished”

Actions intended to benefit other people sometimes backfire. They may be perceived as interfering and controlling, or even have tragic results.

I’ve been thinking about this since watching a brilliant performance of Verdi’s Il Trovatore by NZOpera and the Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra. In the melodramatic plot, set in fifteenth century Spain, Count di Luna is obsessed with the heroine Leonora. But she is in love with Manrico the troubadour, and spurns Luna’s advances. There is bitter rivalry between the two men and eventually Luna gets Manrico imprisoned and condemned to death. Leonora, in what she sees as a noble sacrifice, offers herself to Luna if he will spare Manrico’s life. But when Manrico learns of Leonora’s plan, instead of being grateful he is disgusted and appalled, and denounces her. Meanwhile, rather than give her body to Luna, she has taken poison. Manrico is executed, and Leonora dies.

The old adage “No good deed goes unpunished” often applies in real life. During 2020 and 2021, the New Zealand government responded to the pandemic by imposing a strict system of lockdowns, mandates and border closures to protect the health of the population. These well-intentioned policies did limit illness and death from Covid in the short term, and gained admiration from around the world. But were they justified when weighed against the long term costs? Businesses failed, unvaccinated workers lost their jobs, other diseases went undiagnosed and untreated, old people were confined indoors and prevented from seeing their relatives even when they were dying. Despite continual exhortations to “be kind”, ugly rifts developed between those who supported the restrictions, and those who resented losing the freedom to direct their own lives.

On a more everyday level, think of the dinner guest who volunteers to do the washing up, only to put things away in the wrong place and break the host’s favourite mug.

My conclusion? It’s good to offer help to other people – but only if it’s done with unselfish motives and if they want to be helped.

Book review “Happy: why more or less everything is absolutely fine” by Derren Brown

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I have been an admirer of British illusionist Derren Brown since watching his brilliant and controversial TV shows such as “Miracle” and “Sacrifice”. He is also a writer and when I learned that he shared my interest in Stoicism, and that this informed his book Happy: Why more or less everything is absolutely fine, I was keen to read what he had to say. It’s a big book, ambitious and sometimes provocative, spanning a wide range of topics. The style is fluent and engaging, though tends to ramble at times.

I very much enjoyed the potted history of philosophy and psychology, the critical appraisal of the self-help industry, and the practical guidance on modern applications of Stoicism in Parts One and Two. I would have given 5 stars if the book had ended there but was less impressed with Part Three, in which Derren presents his views about death and dying and argues against the existence of an afterlife. Reference to the work of the many thinkers and researchers who have studied these fields, and to others’ contrasting experiences and beliefs, would have made these chapters more balanced and helpful.

Reservations aside, this is an original and stimulating book that can be recommended for serious readers seeking a fulfilling life.






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Stoic perspectives on death and bereavement

New Year’s Eve 2020 was the fifth anniversary of my mother’s death. I have finally destroyed her personal papers (see my earlier post) but the memories, both happy and sad, remain. Many other relatives and friends of my husband and myself have also died in recent years, and we are getting old ourselves. I had a lot of professional exposure to death and bereavement during my medical career, but the personal experience is very different. I’ve been exploring what the ancient Stoic philosophers had to say about this subject, hoping it may prove helpful for coping in future. The Stoics believed in facing up to death as a natural process which is nothing to be afraid of.

A central tenet of Stoicism is that only our own judgments and voluntary actions are “up to us”. Other aspects of life are not, and although some of these “externals” are to be preferred over others, they are best regarded with indifference. Death, an external that is inevitable for all living things, is only bad if we consider it to be so and sometimes may be welcome.

Epictetus: Death is a release from and an end of all pains: beyond it our sufferings cannot extend: it restores us to the peaceful rest in which we lay before we were born.

The Stoics believed that the timing and manner of death, random and cruel as it may seem, is determined by fate and not up to us. This is less true now that advances in medical science have enabled more control over health and longevity than was available to the ancient Greeks and Romans, but much unpredictability remains. We and those close to us are all going to die one day – maybe tomorrow. Frequent contemplation of this prospect (the Stoic practice of memento mori), is not intended to promote morbid obsession, but to emphasise the importance of making the most of the “festival of life” every day, not wasting time, and appreciating our loved ones while they are still here.

When a loved one dies there will inevitably be distressing reactions such as shock, grief and anger. While negative emotions in the short term are natural, the Stoics advised aiming to move on as soon as possible towards a calm acceptance of the person’s death; continuing to remember them often, but with love and appreciation rather than with sorrow.

Seneca: Thinking of departed friends is to me something sweet and mellow. For when I had them with me it was with the feeling that I was going to lose them, and now that I have lost them I keep the feeling that I have them with me still.

This approach will appeal to some people, while striking others as unrealistic or heartless. It is rather different from today’s prevailing view of mourning as a gradual process of working through the “stages of grief” over many months, perhaps with the aid of bereavement counselling. Everyone is different, and the best way of coping depends on individual personality and circumstances. One idea I have found helpful myself is to think of the deceased as having been “reclaimed by nature”, as all living things will be one day, rather than “lost”.

Epictetus: Is your child dead? It has been given back. Is your wife dead? She has been returned.

What about the soul or spirit, and the question of an afterlife? As I understand it the Stoics believed that death is probably followed by the same oblivion that existed before birth, and that individual immortality is unlikely.

Marcus Aurelius: Just as on earth, with the passage of time, decaying and transmogrified corpses make way for the newly dead, so souls released into the heavens, after a season of flight, begin to break up, burn, and be absorbed back into the womb of reason, leaving room for souls just beginning to fly. This is the answer for those who believe that souls survive death.

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Jennifer Barraclough, originally from England and now living in New Zealand, is a retired doctor and a writer of medical and fiction books. A list can be found on her author pages: https://www.amazon.com/Jennifer-Barraclough/e/B001HPXGZI (US) and https://www.amazon.co.uk/Jennifer-Barraclough/e/B001HPXGZI (UK).

Stoicism for writers and healers

I’ve been reading some basic books about Stoic philosophy, which originated in Ancient Greece and Rome, and describes a path to a good and happy life lived in harmony with others and with nature. It has much in common with other systems and many of the ideas were already familiar to me from Buddhism, Christianity and modern psychological therapies, but it is refreshing to have them presented in clear practical terms. Here are a few thoughts from a novice student of Stoicism.

One of the principles stated by Epictetus (50-135 AD) resonates strongly with me. He wrote that “some things are up to us and some things are not up to us”, so it follows that we are well advised to focus only on what is within our control – which includes very little except our own judgements and behaviours. This may sound simple and obvious (and the “serenity prayer” of St Francis, which I have heard so many times, says something similar) and yet I am certainly not alone in having wasted much futile effort and distress over things which I have no power to change. Applying this principle would avoid many of the hassles of daily life, such as frustration in a traffic jam or irritation with an untidy workmate. It is also relevant to both the two fields – writing and medicine – in which I have spent my career.

As a writer it is up to me to make my books “the best they can be”, to choose whether to submit them to traditional publishers or to publish independently, and decide how much time and money to spend on marketing. But whether people want to buy my books, and whether readers like them, is not up to me. So there is no point in getting upset over rejection letters, lack of sales or negative reviews – in theory. In practice, overcoming the desire for external validation and becoming more tolerant of criticism requires mental discipline and training.

Turning to the medical field, again there is a dichotomy between what is “up to us” and what is not in relation to physical health. We can make choices about many aspects of our lifestyle and behaviour, such as diet and exercise, in the hope of preventing or recovering from disease. But there is no guarantee that our efforts will be successful, and nor can we change some of the other factors such as our genetic susceptibilities, exposure to pathogens in the environment, the inevitable deterioration of our bodies as they age. The dichotomy between what we can or cannot control is not always acknowledged. Some put all their faith in external treatments with drugs and surgery, and ignore what patients can do to help themselves. Others advocate total personal responsibility for health, and risk making patients feel guilty for being ill. Both extremes are potentially dangerous.

There is of course much more to Stoic philosophy than this and, having enrolled in the annual online event Stoic Week which is about to start, perhaps I will write more blog post(s) on this subject.

The fascination of crime fiction

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Foxglove: one of the poisonous plants featured in Agatha Christie’s novels. Photo by Clint McKoy on Unsplash

Crime and mystery novels rank among the most popular of fiction genres today. The many subdivisions – the traditional, police procedural, psychological thriller, cosy mystery, historical crime – almost always have murder as central to the plot. Why do so many people, most of them pleasant and law-abiding in real life, enjoy writing or reading about this gruesome topic? Whereas cruelty towards animals in books and films is widely considered unacceptable, and rightly so, cruelty towards humans is seen as fair fodder for entertainment.

An obvious reason, though perhaps not the most important one, for the appeal of crime fiction is the intellectual challenge of solving a puzzle. This is clearly so for the old-style “whodunnit” which often involves the discovery of a dead body in a closed setting, such as a country house hotel, where each of the people present is found to have a motive for murdering the victim. One or more other deaths may follow. A detective, amateur or professional, eventually nails the culprit – usually the most unlikely suspect – with the aid of clues which have been scattered through the text, along with a few “red herrings”. The solution must not be too obvious but, in theory, a clever reader should have been able to work it out. The story will have a neat resolution, with the truth being revealed and justice restored.

Variations on this basic formula are still used by some modern crime writers but the trend is for longer books with more subtly and complexity . In psychological thrillers, the interest lies not so much in solving a mystery as in exploring the criminal’s character and motivation. Sometimes the murderer’s identity is obvious from the start, though there will usually be a surprise twist at the end.

Crime fiction appeals on the emotional level well as the intellectual one. Perhaps it offers an acceptable channel for expressing feelings that in civilised society are usually suppressed – for example jealousy, greed, hatred, desire for revenge, obsession with evil and death. PD James said that all the motives for murder are covered by four Ls: Love, Lust, Lucre and Loathing. Whereas in real life the majority of crimes are committed by men, it is notable that many writers and readers of crime fiction are female, including some highly respectable mature women. Maybe crime fiction offers them a “safe space” to express the shadow side of their personalities.

Is crime fiction just harmless entertainment, or does it influence readers’ attitudes towards murder, whether acting as a deterrent or even encouraging the occasional person to commit one themselves? Novels at the lighter end of the spectrum, by presenting a sanitised picture of unnatural death and treating its investigation like a game, tend to trivialise the topic. More serious ones, which provide graphic forensic detail and authentic descriptions of police and court procedures, might help anyone who is planning a crime to select a method and escape detection. Similar concerns apply to crime movies and TV shows, which reach a wider and less discriminating audience than most novels do. But leaving such concerns aside, I continue to enjoy reading, writing and watching stories about crime.

Jennifer Barraclough is a retired doctor, originally from England but now living in New Zealand, who writes medical and fiction books available from Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk and other online retailers, or from bookshops and libraries.

Stranger than fiction

Good fortune can come about in the most unexpected ways: coincidence and synchronicity that seem too remarkable to be due to chance, “lucky mistakes” that seem devastating at first but work out for the best. Evidence for a higher intelligence orchestrating our lives, or just random quirks of fate? These examples from my own experience range from the trivial to the life-changing.

The car ferry

Last week we visited the Bay of Islands, some hours’ drive north of our home in Auckland, and took the car ferry between Russell and Opua. I was parked at the front of the side row. Although I thought I had followed the attendant’s guidance, she warned me I was too close to a metal bar on the boat and would probably scrape against it on the way out, because with other cars packed so close I would not be able to reverse. I felt increasingly upset and anxious as the voyage progressed. But then, at the​ end of the crossing, the car next to mine failed to start. The vehicles behind had to reverse to get round it, giving me room to get clear of the obstruction. Meanwhile, shore staff had come on board with jump leads and restarted the stalled car.

The Italian jug

A few years ago, when I was preparing to publish my first novel Carmen’s Roses, I came home to find an unfamiliar jug being washed in the kitchen sink. My husband had picked it up from the pile of rubbish awaiting the annual “inorganic collection” from the pavement of our street. It was white, decorated with swirls of blue and orange, and had Made in Italy written on the bottom. I was delighted and amazed, because a similar jug plays a key part in the plot of my novel, and unknown to my husband I had been searching for a relevant image for the cover. A photo of the jug now features in both the two versions of the cover, on Amazon and Smashwords.

Long-lost family

My last example is more significant. Last year, after my mother died, I felt free to seek information about the father I never knew. A friend with an interest in genealogy posted an online inquiry on my behalf. The synchronicity was that a member of my father’s “other” family was searching the same website at the same time. The lucky mistake was that my friend had got my mother’s name wrong and, for reasons too complicated to explain here, it was only because of this that the connection was made. Though my father himself is long dead, I have since found out about his life, and had successful meetings with my “new” relatives in the UK.

 

 

 

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Blondstar: Thinking inside the box

My beautiful new yellow Honda Jazz RS has various high-tech features that were not present on my previous 10-year-old model. These include “keyless entry with remote central locking and immobiliser” which, despite studying the manual, I have found hard to understand. Judging by the posts on the internet forums for Jazz owners I am not alone in this. I read one story about a person being locked out of their car after leaving the keys inside.

After returning from a drive one night, my husband and I had only just got out of the parked car when I decided to go back and move it forward, to make more room for a neighbour’s vehicle. Leaving my husband to wait on the pavement holding my handbag, which contained the key, I popped back in and repositioned the car slightly. I switched off the engine and opened the door, but heard a series of alarming bleeps. I concluded that I should not have been driving without having the key with me. I retrieved it from my handbag and attempted to lock the car but this did not work. Then I tried various things which made the situation worse: the side lights and all internal lights came on and I could not switch them off, nor could I start the engine, and the bleeping continued whenever I opened the door. It was getting late and I dared not leave the vehicle unlocked overnight with its battery running down. I rang the AA.

The AA officer arrived by midnight, having had a long journey from another part of Auckland, and informed me that I had left the vehicle in Drive instead of Park. He was admirably kind and polite, but I was mortified and felt like an elderly version of Blondstar. Because of my fixed assumption that the problem involved the “keyless entry with remote central locking and immobiliser”, I had never thought to check for other obvious explanations.

How many mistakes, misunderstandings and lost opportunities result from being stuck in a certain mindset and failing to consider the alternatives? For example I have known several people whose serious medical conditions – for example brain tumour, Parkinson’s disease, hypothyroidism – remained undiagnosed until a late stage, because their symptoms were assumed to be due to a recurrence of the depression from which they had suffered in the past. Conclusions based on past experience, preconceived beliefs or assumptions are often correct but sometimes not, so it is a good idea to think “laterally” or “outside the box”.

Incidentally my Jazz was back in good form the day after its traumas.

car

Tarot

Many years ago a friend introduced me to the fascinating and mysterious world of the Tarot, a set of 78 cards that has been used since ancient times for divination and as an aid to psycho-spiritual development and intuition. Its origin is unknown; the complex images could be seen to derive from the myths, legends and belief systems of many civilisations including those of Egypt, India and China, and it has been known in Europe since at least the 14th century. There are numerous different decks available, featuring artwork in styles ranging from the traditional to the quirky.

I studied the Tarot myself for a while and did occasional readings for friends, but was perhaps deterred from continuing when I realised what powerful effects the symbols could have. With their universal relevance they almost always seem to relate to the life situation of the “querent”. One woman told me afterwards that her chosen cards had been instrumental in her decision to divorce her husband; fortunately this turned out a good decision. One man took his spread to be predictive of his own death, despite my efforts to interpret it more constructively, and he did die suddenly not long afterwards. It is indeed hard not to be shocked and distressed by some of the cards, such as Death, The Hanged Man and The Devil, even though they are not intended to be taken literally; instead, they symbolise in different ways a common Tarot theme, that of letting go of the old to make way for the new. Other cards, such as The Star and The Sun, show much more beautiful and positive images. Whether or not the Tarot has any occult significance, as opposed to being a psychological tool, I think it should be regarded with respect and not used frivolously.

The insightful reading I had yesterday from Samantha Jung-Fielding stimulated much reflection and promise for the future. To summarise just a few of the cards that particularly resonated with me: Ace of Swords: change beginning on the mental level with new attitudes and ideas. The Empress: creativity and abundance, happy relationships. Nine of Swords: fear and despair, but the threats are in imagination rather than reality. The Fool: appearing as the final card in my spread, this represents the start of a new adventure! My complete Celtic Cross spread is pictured below.

Celtic cross