I am reading Rainer Maria Rilke's book "Letters to a Young Poet." It is triggering my thoughts about where I am in my life journey; who I am in myself, but not what I am.

Another trigger for my reflections is a recent question from my wife Sandy: How do I feel about aging?

Richard Beckhard was one of the founders of organizational development, and a pioneering consultant who worked for over a half-century with senior executives around the world in managing change. He died in December, 1999 at the age of 81.

We recently returned from our annual 10-day sailing trip in the Virgin Islands. I feel lousy and incompetent due to a recent bout of bronchitis, from which I am slowly recovering. The trip and the bronchitis are a metaphor for where I'm at at this time -- loving the sailing and all that goes with it, and yet miserable at the same time due to my health.

As Rilke says, "from these tensions come growth." He was writing to a young poet.

For me, the tensions bring into focus the dilemmas of older life. How do you stay in generally good health, financially stable, and happy in a core relationship; while at the same time learn to cope with precarious health conditions (I have heart disease), continue to learn, and still make contributions to one's field and to other people?

Fortunately, I have had to deal with ambiguity and uncertainty most of my professional life. My health has been a major factor for the last eighteen years. I have had a mild heart attack, a triple arterial bypass, a stroke, two seizures, and, like both my parents, congestive heart failure. I carry a "drugstore" of medicines. Thanks to superb primary care from fine doctors, I stay in generally good health. I'm in better shape today than any time in the last fifteen years, thanks to medications and constant monitoring.

I have to be constantly on the alert, and to stay that way.

My strength has come from my work as teacher, coach, and counselor to other consultants and to people who are being treated for stress syndromes.

In addition, for the last nine years I have experienced total unambiguous love and support from my partner-wife.

So where does this leave me? I am acutely aware that I have, if I stay healthy, ten years left in my journey. I'm not ready to die yet -- I feel I have a lot of living to do.

I am comfortable in my body and with my wife and friends. I continue to receive positive feedback from clients and students; I look forward to continuing those interactions.

I am acutely aware of the increasing need to "let go" of behaviors that were easy. When I fly, I need twice the time I used to need to walk through the airport to the gate. Tying up a boat is a "big deal." Walking up a hill guarantees a few breathless minutes. I have to think about the effort and the "cost" of going downtown for an appointment or a haircut.

When I try to get outside myself and look in, what I see is "feeling good," feeling content; increasingly reflective and philosophical; frustrated at my limitations; more accepting of help from others; sometimes bored with my limited activities; proud and pleased when I'm working with clients, individual or class; affectionate and caring with my wife; grateful for her love and attention; and lucky to be in the shape I am right now.