That might sound daunting, but this is where Rollo May’s idea of creativity comes in. He didn’t mean creativity in the sense of painting or writing (though it could be that), but in the broader sense of how we relate to life. You may no longer be building a career or chasing after the ambitions of your youth or middle age, but that doesn’t mean the creative process stops. It just shifts. What new ways of living, new relationships, or ways of engaging with the world might still spark something in you? What might you contribute, even if only quietly, to those around you or to the world at large? This could be something altruistic like listening to schoolchildren read, or something of mutual benefit like good conversation.
It’s not about being “busy”, or filling your days with distractions, it’s about asking: What still matters to me? It’s about reclaiming the freedom you have now, even if it feels uncomfortable, even if it means confronting uncertainty. What parts of yourself have yet to be explored? Are there conversations you’ve never had, people you’ve never truly connected with? I wonder if, in some way, you’re being called to confront your own authenticity. What is most authentic to you now? You’ve been through so much of life already; you’ve seen beyond the illusions of constant success and striving. So now, what calls to you at this deeper level? What kind of being do you want to embody, now that your life’s work is, in many ways, complete?
And of course, there is also the shadow of “non-being” that hangs in the background. Rollo May would suggest that embracing this, rather than denying it, can bring a sharper sense of meaning to the present. It’s not about despairing at the end but, rather, seeing that the fact that life is finite is what gives it urgency and meaning. The awareness of death is what can make life, in the here and now, all the richer.
You are not alone in this. So many of us face that void, that sense of “what now?” But what you are going through isn’t a failure of imagination, it’s the human condition, and it’s an opportunity to reshape your own meaning, even now.
Recommended reading Boredom: A Lively History by Peter Toohey
Every week Philippa Perry addresses a personal problem sent in by a reader. If you would like advice from Philippa, please send your problem to askphilippa@guardian.co.uk. Submissions are subject to our terms and conditions
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