A bit of physics to start this post. Picture in your mind a pile of gravel on the ground after being poured from a chute, or the sand in the bottom of an hour glass. These piles are in the shape of a cone whose dimensions change as new material is added to the top and rolls down the slope. When new material no longer falls onto the top of the pile and nothing rolls down the slope, the cone becomes a fixed shape. At that point, the angle of the slope of the pile with respect to the horizontal is called the angle of repose of that material.
This post is not about the technical aspects of piles of granular material, however, but rather about how to live. The idea of stability implied in the concept of angle of repose is a fine metaphor for contentment, particularly the contentment some people achieve, a level of serenity with respect to their life, particularly as they begin to see the end closing in.
One of my best friends, a man whom I have known for four decades and whom I deeply respect, told me a few years ago when he was in his mid-60s that he felt he had reached his angle of repose. By that he meant that he was content in who and where he was in his life. Angle of repose also is a main theme of Wallace Stegner’s masterpiece novel with that title in which the narrator seeks meaning in his own life by exploring the life and struggles of his grandmother through her letters and other documents.
While contentment is a fine goal, I think it is one that is rarely achieved. Many people continue to roll down the slope of life without stopping at contentment until they finally reach a state of resignation—or worse. As Thoreau noted, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation…. A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind.” Thoreau nails it—games and amusements, indeed! So many of us try to hold desperation at bay through the distractions of things like television, the internet, sports, talk radio, alcohol, or vacuous acquisitiveness of all sorts.
So how does one reach his or her angle of repose and not fall into resignation or desperation, or a form of stasis in which one becomes stuck in suffocating routines and habits? I don’t think contentment is related to the sort of achievements that appear on résumés—jobs, titles, degrees, publications—or on the size of one’s bank account, stock portfolio, or IRA. Or even the state of one’s health or the nature of one’s family. Rather reaching an angle of repose connotes acceptance of one’s location on the journey of life while at the same time being open to the possibilities each day brings—the beauty of a dawn filled with soft light and bird song, greeting a neighbor, even irritation at news of the latest hijinks of the state legislature.
Rather than simply generalize with what might seem to be platitudes, I will talk about what works for me. Contentment involves staying busy, exploring new ideas, and connecting with people—Spanish classes, studying Greek, writing, beekeeping, photography, etc. When I do feel discontented, I focus on trying to distract myself—with exercise, a new book or interesting magazine article, coffee with a friend, etc., something to dispel the clouds. I try to follow the example of my mother, who has long said that she intentionally tries to have a good day and does her best to ignore or put into perspective the inevitable and challenging vicissitudes of life, an attitude that she contrasts to my father’s struggle with chronic discontent. When he retired, he seemed to lose purpose and spent much of his day watching television, particularly the news. My mom strongly thinks that that fed his unhappiness and ultimately made him vulnerable to the disease that ultimately killed him at age 69.
Back to my friend who said he had reached his angle of repose, here is a quote from a recent note from him telling me about his being tentatively diagnosed with atrial fibrillation and having further tests:
“Looks like it’s probably just run of the mill Afib and I’ll have to live with it. If it gets really annoying there are meds and even an electrical ablation but both have some serious downsides so I’m not going there yet. Lifestyle change looks like the best option. I’d been down to 1 sometimes 2 cups of coffee/day so those are going; and down to a single beer–we’ll see how long that lasts! Quite prophetically, the cryptoquote in last Saturday’s newspaper was from John Mortimer…’There is no pleasure in life worth forgoing just for an extra three years in the geriatric ward.’ So it goes…I took a nice long hike in the foothills this morning and the steep hills didn’t kill me so that was encouraging.”
He offers a fine example of having reached his own angle of repose.