Eight Decades on Life’s Mountain: My Take on the Meaning of Life

In November, I’ll turn 80. It feels a bit like I’m sitting astride the mountain of life, catching my breath and looking back at the path I’ve climbed. The journey has been long, sometimes steep, sometimes surprising, and now I find myself reflecting on what I’ve learned along the way.

No Regrets

The first thing I’ve realised is that regrets are a waste of time. I don’t mean I’ve always made brilliant choices — far from it. But even when I didn’t get what I wanted, something better usually turned up.

Take the job I was sure was made for me. I didn’t get it. At the time, I was devastated. However, the rejection led me into social work, where I remained for over 20 years. More importantly, it’s where I met my wife of nearly fifty years ago.

Then came another blow: redundancy. I felt desperate and uncertain — I had a family, a mortgage, and no idea what the future held. Yet what felt like a disaster turned into an opportunity. I set up my own business working on disability issues, work that carried me through to retirement. Looking back, I can see a pattern: setbacks often became turning points. So no regrets — just reminders that life sometimes knows better than we do.

Life After Work

What surprised me most was how hard it was to adjust when the working years ended. Running a business gave me structure and, more importantly, a sense that what I was doing mattered. When it stopped, I was left with a void, and the quiet was unsettling.

Over time, I came to realise that purpose isn’t confined to paid work, status or job titles. It comes from doing things that feel useful, that add something to the world. Voluntary work became one way to discover that new purpose. These days, I’ve stepped back from most of it, but technology has created new opportunities. Thanks to Zoom — something that didn’t exist when I first started climbing the mountain — I now meet with people individually, talking through the challenges they face and how they might overcome them. In other words, how they might climb their own mountain.

The Gift of Polio

It may sound odd, but I often think that getting polio was the best thing that ever happened to me. It came right at the start of the climb and coloured everything that followed. Without it, my life would almost certainly have taken a very different course.

Given the circumstances of my childhood — poverty, class, and limited opportunity — I doubt it would have been a particularly happy or successful one. Polio led me down a completely different path. It hasn’t been easy — climbing a mountain in a wheelchair never is — but it gave me a perspective and a drive that shaped the whole journey.

The View from Here

So what’s the view like after eight decades? It’s not about great revelations. It’s
about noticing how the path twisted, how disappointments turned into blessings, and how important it is to make peace with yourself.

There will always be more ridges to climb, but the view keeps changing, too. Yes, the air may be getting thinner and the coffee colder — but those are just issues to work around. That’s what oxygen tanks and thermos flasks are for.

Here’s to the next part of the climb — whatever direction it takes.