Entering his eighth decade, Cosmo Landesman thought his days of passionate romance were over. But when he made a commitment to pursue happiness, something surprising happened…
I have a confession to make: I’m happy. I never expected to be happy. But here I am, 71 years old and bloody happy. What went right? I should point out that I’m not by nature a cheerful chappie. When I was a boy my mother called me Eeyore after the downbeat donkey from Winnie The Pooh. In my 20s I cultivated unhappiness because I wanted to be cool. All the hip people were unhappy. I dressed in black and my mental wardrobe consisted of 50 shades of woe. I wanted to be a serious writer and that meant I had to be moody and melancholic.
What makes my current happiness so unexpected is that it defies all my youthful expectations. At this age I though I would be a miserable old sod, drowning in self-pity. Why did I think this was my fate? Because, like many Baby Boomers, I assumed that when you got old it was the end of everything that made life worth living. By which I mean love, sex, passion and fun.
No wonder every landmark birthday from around 30 to about 65 left me feeling like the end was nigh. When I turned 50 everyone wished me a very happy birthday – but what’s there to be happy about, I grumbled? I’m finished. And when I turned 60, I’d look in the mirror and think: no one will ever fancy me again! Farewell, romance and wild and wonderful sex – hello, early nights with my cup of cocoa and maybe the occasional cuddle, if I was lucky.
And then suddenly I was 70! Bloody hell, how did that happen? And I decided that really was the end. I was now officially an old bloke with nothing to do but count the days till death decided to pay me a visit. Till then I would be a fully paid-up member of the Miserable Old Sod Club For Single Men.
The funny thing is that none of my predictions about old age came true. At 50 I fell in love with an amazing woman; on my 61st birthday a new girlfriend took me to the top of the Shard and we got a room, as they say. Hey, I thought to myself, this growing old business isn’t as bad as I imagined! All I had to do was look on the bright side of life. I still had my hair, my teeth and lots of friends – why be an old misery guts? I told myself: get real, get happy. And for a time I did. A grumpy old mate of mine once asked, ‘What’s wrong with you? You’re always smiling these days.’
And then my happiness bubble burst. In 2015, my 28-year-old son Jack died by suicide. There’s a reason that losing a child is every parent’s worst nightmare: because unlike nightmares, you never wake up. But then I didn’t want to. I felt that to be happy again was a betrayal of my son – I owed it to him to stay sad. My pain was the umbilical cord that kept us connected. My happy days were truly over – and I didn’t care.
But, once again, I was wrong. Over time I learned how to manage my grief. I wrote a book about Jack and me, and that was very cathartic. His death reminded me of the preciousness of life.
The trouble is that’s something easy to forget. The death of a loved one wakes us up to life – but, unfortunately, life puts us back to sleep. We get lost in routines and rituals. So, a few years ago I decided I would make a deep commitment to living every day with full presence and as much passion as I could muster. I wanted to be happy.
For a time I tried reading ‘how to be happy’ books, but none of them worked. And then I discovered that happiness is easier to find when you stop looking for it. It’s not something you uncover like a lost treasure; it’s something you cultivate. The best thing to do is give your life meaning and purpose, and happiness will follow. For me this meant doing work for a suicide-prevention charity. Helping others is the ultimate happiness hack.
As I’ve become all old-agey, I’ve also become New-Agey. A few years ago I started to do yoga, eat seaweed, meditate and chant daily. I’ve tried new experiences, like a week at a Tantra retreat and ecstatic dancing. And I’m embarrassed to say that I’ve even started hugging trees! Silly or what? But they always make me smile.
But the bedrock of my happiness is a sense of gratitude. Like many people, I spent much of my time focusing – and moaning – about what I didn’t have in my life and ignoring all the amazing things I did. I’ve created a daily pro-happiness routine. Instead of ingesting a morning dose of misery (ie the news) or looking at my phone when I first wake up, I make a cup of tea, light a candle, open the window and listen to the birds singing and I give thanks for these gifts.
And with maturity has come a microdose of wisdom. I just don’t care about all the silly things that I used to get upset or stressed about, like career or money worries. No longer do I sulk when a friend doesn’t return my phone call, or swear vengeance over emails of mine that were being ignored.
Now, at 71, I have found something I never expected to find at my age: love. A woman who I had fancied 25 years ago got in touch and suggested a non-date date. Just coffee, she said and before you could say, white-decaf-Americano-with-soya-milk-please, we were dating. I took her to the YOU magazine Christmas party and she kissed me. I still haven’t recovered.
So here I am with a dodgy knee that needs to be replaced, a hernia the size of a football, a bank balance that should be freaking me out with worry – but what do I care? I’m having the best sex of my life! Every day I thank god for my girlfriend… and I thank god for Viagra! I mention this not to boast – well, maybe a bit – but to suggest that we never know what’s coming around the corner.
I look back over my life and realise how foolish I had been as a young man to think I was destined to be unhappy. I’ve had good times and bad times. I’ve had one tragedy, a dozen broken hearts, two wonderful wives, three therapists and a thousand-and-one lonely nights. And yet, here I am: happy.
Of course, I’m not all of the time. Nobody is. And besides, who would want to be happy 24/7 with a big grin on your face? People think if you’re happy, you’re in a safe space where sadness or depression can’t touch you. Not true. Everyone has bad days when you get the blues – or worse. But when you’re basically happy it doesn’t matter. I can honestly say I’m so happy, I’m looking forward to being 81.
