The Middle of the Stream

New Zealand Listener, Volume 30, Issue 765, 19 March 1954, Page 4

The Middle of the Stream

SERIES of NZBS talks, Midstream Horses (see page 7), should stimulate reminiscent and questioning moods. Many of us have changed our occupations, or wanted to; and the possibility never quite disappears. One*speaker in the series may seem at first to go to the heart of the matter in his opening sentence: "Well, now, this horsechanging business-some chaps do and some don’t." When we look for reasons, however, the subject ceases to be quite so simple. There is no special virtue in a fixed ambition. The boy who has it is fortunate, and may go far; but indecision in youth is not necessarily weakness. A child be- ' comes a man very slowly. In some ways, indeed, he never quite detaches himself from childhood. Many boys are made to pay too heavily for the frustrated ambitions of their fathers. The man who is determined that his son must have the opportunities he could not get for himself may have excellent motives, but he too often falls into the mistake of supposing that he and his son have the same sort of mind, the same aptitudes _and inclinations. Even when it is plain that the boy cannot or should not fulfil his father’s hopes, he may be turned by parental wishes from the work he is most fitted to do. If he makes little headway, he is blamed ‘for lack of concentration. As he grows older, marriage and a young family keep him in the groove. But it sometimes happens that his _ buried |wishes come into the open when he can see his chance to satisfy them. For such a man, a change of horses in midstream is by no means a foolish risk: it is more likely to be a necessary escape. Children may be without fixed aims because they are developing

slowly, and are in need of experience before they can see the direction they should take. Others may be victims of their own versatility: they have so many aptitudes that they move from one interest to another, and near the end of their working lives may still be searching for their true vocation. With some men, too, a change of occupation is not the result of any checked or hidden desire. It is most of all an expression of individuality, perhaps even an unconscious refusal to grow old. Change becomes harder in later life, and men can find a deep reassurance in their capacity to face a new and different task. Not for them will be a slow decline into retirement: they are less concerned with security than with the fullness of living, and they look for it on the land, among people, even among new ideas. These deviations cause less surprise and uneasiness than in the past. Two world wars have taught us that uprooted men can recover health of body and mind in new occupations. Moreover, a_ long prosperity has made it easier for the adventurous to find their opportunities. And finally we are beginning to see that better health and longer lives are making new social conditions. It has ceased to be unusual for a man of 60 to decide that, instead of retiring, he will go to another kind of work. The man who knows what he wants to do, and follows his career with singleness of purpose, may reach the highest places; but a false start need not mean that the race is over. Much depends on what is really wanted. If a successful life means the full expression of personality, rather than the making of money and the winning of rewards, a\man can seek it where he will, and is never too old for a new beginning.