When we're young, love can feel like an emergency. We fall hard, obsess over someone's smile, wait for the phone to ring, and experience that delicious chemical cocktail of attraction, hormones, anticipation, and desire. We want to be wanted. We want the butterflies. We want someone who makes our heart race. And then, somewhere along the way, many of us begin to change. Not necessarily because we've stopped believing in love, but because our definition of what we want from love has evolved. As we move through our 50s, 60s, 70s, and beyond, we may find ourselves becoming more devoted to ourselves—our health, our interests, our friendships, our peace, and our independence. That doesn't mean we're selfish. Perhaps it means we've finally learned that a relationship should add to our lives rather than consume them.
There is something fascinating about the way different cultures have understood this transition. When I was in a comparative religions class at the University of Pittsburgh, I learned that in the traditional Hindu concept of the ashrama system, life is divided into four broad stages: student, householder, forest-dweller (described as gradual withdrawal), and renunciation. Please note that he four Hindu ashramas are a traditional philosophical framework, not a universal timeline followed by all Hindus today. The third stage, vanaprastha, traditionally represents a gradual turning away from the demands of worldly life and toward reflection, wisdom, spiritual growth, and a different relationship with the self.
It isn't necessarily about abandoning the people we love. It's about changing our priorities. That idea feels remarkably modern to me. Perhaps aging naturally invites us to loosen our grip on the roles we spent decades fulfilling—student, lover, partner, parent, employee, caregiver, provider—and ask, "Who am I now?" Other cultures have similarly recognized that later life can be a time of wisdom, mentorship, reflection, community, and a deeper relationship with oneself rather than a continuation of the frantic striving of youth.
And then there is companionship. Oh, companionship! There is something wonderfully underrated about having someone who knows your coffee order, understands your weird little habits, laughs at the same television shows, and doesn't require you to explain why your knees hurt when you get up from the couch. The National Institute on Aging notes that intimacy can exist with or without a sexual component, and that older adults define sexuality and intimacy in many different ways. Some continue to have active sexual relationships, some desire intimacy without sex, and some are perfectly content without either.
Long-term relationships can also provide emotional comfort and positive shared experiences; recent research summarized by the American Psychological Association found that long-term couples ages 56 to 89 tended to experience more positive emotions when they were together. Maybe love doesn't disappear as we age. Maybe it gets quieter. The fireworks can become a fireplace—less explosive, perhaps, but warm enough to sit beside for hours.
So I'm beginning to wonder whether our later years aren't supposed to be about finding or keeping someone to complete us at all. Maybe they're about becoming more complete within ourselves and then choosing the people we want beside us. Romance may still be part of the picture. Sex may still be part of the picture. But so are friendship, laughter, shared meals, separate hobbies, quiet mornings, travel, grandchildren, meaningful work, and the glorious freedom to spend an afternoon doing absolutely nothing. There is no single correct way to love as we age.
Perhaps the real gift is finally understanding that we don't have to follow the script we were modeled as we watched our elders, or handed when we were twenty. We can write a new one—one where companionship is celebrated, solitude isn't feared, and taking care of ourselves isn't considered selfish. We come into the world alone, and even if we are twins, we exit the portal one after the other. Maybe focusing on our deeper selves is not giving up on love. Maybe it's self discovery of a more mature version of it.
Are you struggling with the internal changes, needs, wants, and desires within yourself as you age? Do you feel as if you focus on yourself more and perhaps feel guilty for doing so? Do your partner, friends, kids, or colleagues show that they do not "get" you now, or say that you have changed? We are all supposed to change as we live life experiences. Change is the only thing constant in the universe. That, and love. So I say with love, love yourself into a better existence, whatever that means to you now...and now...and now...
Blessings,
KJ Landis
@superiorself on Instagram and X
@SuperiorSelf channel on YouTube
@superiorselfwithkjlandis on TikTok
[email protected]
Books available everywhere!
There is something fascinating about the way different cultures have understood this transition. When I was in a comparative religions class at the University of Pittsburgh, I learned that in the traditional Hindu concept of the ashrama system, life is divided into four broad stages: student, householder, forest-dweller (described as gradual withdrawal), and renunciation. Please note that he four Hindu ashramas are a traditional philosophical framework, not a universal timeline followed by all Hindus today. The third stage, vanaprastha, traditionally represents a gradual turning away from the demands of worldly life and toward reflection, wisdom, spiritual growth, and a different relationship with the self.
It isn't necessarily about abandoning the people we love. It's about changing our priorities. That idea feels remarkably modern to me. Perhaps aging naturally invites us to loosen our grip on the roles we spent decades fulfilling—student, lover, partner, parent, employee, caregiver, provider—and ask, "Who am I now?" Other cultures have similarly recognized that later life can be a time of wisdom, mentorship, reflection, community, and a deeper relationship with oneself rather than a continuation of the frantic striving of youth.
And then there is companionship. Oh, companionship! There is something wonderfully underrated about having someone who knows your coffee order, understands your weird little habits, laughs at the same television shows, and doesn't require you to explain why your knees hurt when you get up from the couch. The National Institute on Aging notes that intimacy can exist with or without a sexual component, and that older adults define sexuality and intimacy in many different ways. Some continue to have active sexual relationships, some desire intimacy without sex, and some are perfectly content without either.
Long-term relationships can also provide emotional comfort and positive shared experiences; recent research summarized by the American Psychological Association found that long-term couples ages 56 to 89 tended to experience more positive emotions when they were together. Maybe love doesn't disappear as we age. Maybe it gets quieter. The fireworks can become a fireplace—less explosive, perhaps, but warm enough to sit beside for hours.
So I'm beginning to wonder whether our later years aren't supposed to be about finding or keeping someone to complete us at all. Maybe they're about becoming more complete within ourselves and then choosing the people we want beside us. Romance may still be part of the picture. Sex may still be part of the picture. But so are friendship, laughter, shared meals, separate hobbies, quiet mornings, travel, grandchildren, meaningful work, and the glorious freedom to spend an afternoon doing absolutely nothing. There is no single correct way to love as we age.
Perhaps the real gift is finally understanding that we don't have to follow the script we were modeled as we watched our elders, or handed when we were twenty. We can write a new one—one where companionship is celebrated, solitude isn't feared, and taking care of ourselves isn't considered selfish. We come into the world alone, and even if we are twins, we exit the portal one after the other. Maybe focusing on our deeper selves is not giving up on love. Maybe it's self discovery of a more mature version of it.
Are you struggling with the internal changes, needs, wants, and desires within yourself as you age? Do you feel as if you focus on yourself more and perhaps feel guilty for doing so? Do your partner, friends, kids, or colleagues show that they do not "get" you now, or say that you have changed? We are all supposed to change as we live life experiences. Change is the only thing constant in the universe. That, and love. So I say with love, love yourself into a better existence, whatever that means to you now...and now...and now...
Blessings,
KJ Landis
@superiorself on Instagram and X
@SuperiorSelf channel on YouTube
@superiorselfwithkjlandis on TikTok
[email protected]
Books available everywhere!
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