We Can All Learn From the Venerable Fig

on finding one's purpose at a ripe age

Today is my 62nd birthday and I fully acknowledge that claiming to still be in “midlife” is a stretch. But to give you a sense of how mutable this life stage is, check out how I spent my day when I turned 51. I wrote about figs then too.

Some things have remained constant - we recently spent time on Lummi Island and the Columbia River Gorge, our happy, grounding places. I’ve read some great Gorge books (I am currently listening to Ann Patchett’s Tom Lake, read by Meryl Streep. It’s lovely and moving and feels very true-to-life).

I am relishing late summer fruits.

Now, the kids are long gone and the house is pretty peaceful. Just me, J, our dog, and two cats. I’ve got some “adulting” to do and then we’ll go out for a nice dinner at a modern Indian restaurant and then come home and eat mini-cakes that I will pick up today from one of my favorite bakeries. My dog isn’t a puppy anymore, so I’m pretty confident we won’t come home to find dog poop on the stairs (see what I did there

Alex Dobrenko`

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Me and my colleagues on the Mekong Delta, @1991

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There’s this very accomplished woman I’ve just learned about. Maybe you’ve already heard of her. Her name is Laurel Braitman and she is the director of Writing and Storytelling at the Stanford School of Medicine’s Medical Humanities and the Arts Program. She has a PhD in History and Anthropology of Science from MIT. She’s written a book about grief and another about how animals think. She founded a global community of healthcare professionals who write. She is cookbook author Samin Nosrat’s best friend.

The thing that struck me, when I went down a Laurel Braitman rabbit hole the other day, was her Instagram bio:

“I want to be the human equivalent of casserole you bring people after shit hits the fan.”

I love that.

Speaking of great quotes - do yourself a favor and read this fabulous interview with Neko Case in

Oldster Magazine

and then subscribe to Oldster.

I love the idea of treating your body like a trusty loving companion, just as you would an aging dog. My dog and I, who seem to be aging in parallel (we both could stand to lose a few pounds to ease our aching knees) agree!

Recently, I’ve been thinking about purpose.

I’ve written to you before about the Surgeon General’s recent report about the loneliness epidemic. Having a sense of purpose, a place to go, and people to care for is one way of combatting the growing sense of isolation many people feel, especially as they grow older.

David Brooks recently wrote a piece for The Atlantic called The New Old Age. It’s behind a paywall. I’ve tried to add an accessible link, but in case that didn’t work, I will summarize it for you here.

It’s about ways to cope with the period from retirement to senescence, a new life stage that has yet to receive a definitive name. It’s known as Second Adolescence, the Encore Years, Adulthood II, the Third Chapter… I imagine new names will continue to be developed until some marketing person makes one stick.

A primary challenge during this period is to remain relevant and engaged when your career no longer defines you.

Brooks acknowledges that this is primarily a problem of the privileged. Elite universities like Stanford, Harvard, and Notre Dame offer courses (not cheap) you can take to figure this stuff out.

Core questions include, Who Am I, What Do I Want, What Should I Do?

Sunset Hill Park

I took my 11 1/2 year-old dog for a walk the other day in the neighborhood park on a bluff overlooking Puget Sound. My dog has a very long memory. Cross him and he won’t forget it. But if he likes you, you have a lifelong admirer.

He perked up as a couple crossed the street and entered the park and I wasn’t surprised. There was my former colleague CW and her partner B. Eight years ago, CW, my dog, and I took some early spring walks along the beach after we had both left our jobs and were pondering next steps. The wind was still punishingly icy, but the sky was clear and blue, a promise of things to come.

CW is wise like a Buddha. She spoke with bracing clarity during those winter walks. I think my dog appreciated it. I certainly did.

It’s been a few years since we’ve seen each other, so we caught up. I whined a little bit about how unemployment had made me feel like I’d lost my sense of purpose. CW fixed her gaze on me while my dog licked her legs, and spoke with her trademark good sense.

“At this stage of life, we derive purpose and satisfaction from things other than our jobs. Our purpose is to nurture and support.”

I think the Brits would translate that as “stop wingeing,” which is a much better word than whining.

Toast some good bread with olive oil and then top it with cured ham, half a fig, and a mint sprig. You won’t regret it. Finish with a sprinkling of good salt.

There are many stories and parables about the venerable fig, which is rich in symbolism and features heavily in the Bible.

Buddha found enlightenment under a fig tree.

Some call it the Tree of Life. The photo above is from the very first carpet I ever bought in India. I have a thing for Tree of Life symbolism. Here’s another depiction.

I know, different tree..

A fig’s blossoms are inside the fruit. A fig wasp enters the fruit to pollinate the flowers and then dies and dissolves within the fruit (which is a little off-putting to dwell on).

Figs are good for you.

And this: The large roots of a fig tree have been thought to represent the past, its trunk the present, and its branches the future to come. The tree has consequently been tied to the bounty of nature, and the success and wisdom of the incessant cycle of life.

Plus, figs are delicious.

With a nod to Laurel Braitman, at the ripe old age of 62, I am finding my purpose.

I want to to be the human equivalent of a fig, wise and nurturing and rich with flavor.

The Best Thing I Cooked Before the Oven Broke

David Tanis’ Fig and Almond Cake

I have been blessed to spend time with several old friends this summer - important people from my past (including one from the photo above) who have helped give my life meaning.

The other day I was planning to make dinner for one of these old friends and had prepared a peach almond galette for dessert. When I went to pop it in the oven, I noticed the preheated oven was cold. Turns out, the oven ignitor is broken.

Lucky for me, an old friend, who I hadn’t seen for a few while, lives a few blocks away. I went over to her house and we visited while the galette baked. What a nice, serendipitous treat.

The week before, in a flurry of baking (houseguest, J’s birthday), I made one of my summer standbys. An easy, delicious cake that is so light and satisfying, I hope you will give it a try.

It’s also behind a paywall, but I’ve gifted it to you, as a birthday pay-it-forward. If you can’t access it, let me know in the comments and I will edit this post and type it out (trying not to forget any ingredients this time).

Thanks for reading and supporting Slice of Midlife, still going strong since 2011. Too late to rebrand now :).