Becoming a Lantern: What Rendra’s Final Poem Taught a 61-Year-Old Man About Life, Ageing, and Letting Go
Mike is currently enjoying a well-deserved family holiday in the United States. In the meantime, we are pleased to share this thoughtful guest article by Pri Notowidigdo. Through the story of Pak Tony and the wisdom found in W.S. Rendra's final poem, this reflection explores themes of identity, ageing, purpose, and the quiet transition from pursuing significance to creating meaning.
We hope you find it as thought-provoking and inspiring as we did.
*****
By Pri Notowidigdo
At 61, Pak Tony Wibowo (fictitious) no longer woke up to the sound of urgent phone calls from directors, late night messages from commissioners, or the relentless pressure of quarterly targets. The suits still hung neatly in his wardrobe, the awards still gathered dust on the shelves, and his business card still carried traces of a life once defined by power and prestige.
Yet on a quiet Javanese morning, sitting alone on the veranda of his modest home in Yogyakarta with a cup of warm tea and a fading copy of W.S. Rendra’s final poem in his hands, Pak Tony found himself confronting a question far more difficult than any boardroom decision he had ever made:
Who am I now, when the title is gone and life is slowly teaching me how to let go?
For the first time in more than 35 years, Pak Tony no longer carried a corporate title:
No President Commissioner.
No Senior Advisor.
No Regional Director.
No office tower waiting for him. No endless meetings.
No succession politics.
No quarterly reports.
The silence felt unfamiliar.
For decades, Pak Tony had lived according to calendars, targets, negotiations, and expectations.
Like many Javanese professionals of his generation, work had become more than a livelihood. It had become identity, dignity, structure, and proof of usefulness.
Yet now, in the late season of life, Pak Tony had entered what younger consultants liked to call a portfolio life.
He no longer worked for one institution. Instead, he sustained himself through:
writing reflective essays,
teaching leadership and communication,
mentoring younger executives,
and offering board advisory to family businesses navigating transition.
The income was smaller.
The prestige quieter.
But strangely, the work felt more human.
Still, there were moments when Pak Tony wondered whether society still valued older middle-aged men once their formal authority disappeared.
That morning, he reached again for the worn copy of Rendra’s poem.
And somewhere between the words and the silence, Pak Tony realized the poem was no longer merely literature. It was a mirror.
When Time Stops Waiting for Us
“Life is like vapor, visible only for a moment, and then it vanishes.”
Pak Tony paused. At 61, those words no longer sounded philosophical. They sounded factual.
He remembered the young management trainee he once was in Jakarta. He was ambitious, sharp, eager to prove himself. He remembered the promotions, the overseas postings, the applause at conferences, the expensive suits, the urgency of deadlines that once felt monumental.
Now most of those moments existed only in memory.
The people who once competed fiercely with him had retired, grown ill, or quietly passed away. Some were forgotten entirely by the very organizations they had helped build.
For decades, Pak Tony had unconsciously believed that achievement could slow time.
But Rendra’s words reminded him that life is temporary for everyone. Not just for ordinary people. For executives too.
Pak Tony realized that the final stage of life was not about expanding status, but deepening meaning.
His portfolio life should not merely become “consulting after retirement.” It should become:
a season of contribution,
reflection,
wisdom-sharing,
and inner freedom.
The First Mindshift
From: “How much influence do I still have?”
→ “Whose life can I still illuminate?”
Redefining What It Means to Be Rich
“When I wanted to live rich, I forgot that life itself is already wealth.” Pak Tony smiled quietly at those lines.
Corporate life had trained him to measure value externally:
compensation
authority
visibility
assets
access
Even after retirement, he sometimes caught himself comparing:
who still sat on major boards
whose children lived abroad
who remained socially influential
But age had also taught him something else:
Some of the wealthiest men he had known died lonely. Some lost relationships with their children. Some could not sleep peacefully. Some no longer knew who genuinely loved them outside their usefulness.
Suddenly, abundance looked different.
His portfolio life, he realized, was not merely about generating income to survive. His portfolio career was about designing a life that still felt alive.
Writing gave him reflection
Teaching gave him relevance
Advisory work gave him contribution
Relationships gave him belonging
The Second Mindshift
From: “I must remain important.”
→ “I must remain meaningful.”
Becoming a Lantern Instead of the Sun
“If we cannot become the sun, let us at least become a lantern that lights the surroundings.”
This was the line that moved Pak Tony most deeply.
In corporate life, he had spent decades trying to become “the sun”:
leading
influencing
directing
deciding
But now, Rendra invited another kind of greatness: quiet usefulness.
A lantern does not dominate the sky. It simply helps someone nearby see more clearly. Pak Tony realized that this was perhaps the true calling of elderhood. Not domination but llumination. Not control but guidance. Not prestige. But presence.
He understood that he no longer needed to build another empire.
Instead, he could:
mentor younger leaders
write honestly about failure and wisdom
help family businesses navigate conflict
encourage retirees facing identity loss
and teach people how to live with dignity during transition
The Third Mindshift
To: “I can now help others become themselves.”
3 Questions That Stayed with Pak Tony
As Pak Tony folded the poem slowly, 3 questions lingered in his heart:
Who Am I Without My Title?
“What part of my identity was truly mine and what part only came from my title?”
Am I Chasing Relevance or Cultivating Wisdom?
“Am I spending the remaining years of my life accumulating relevance, or cultivating wisdom?”
What Will Remain of Me?
“What kind of legacy remains when achievement is no longer visible?”
The Quiet Wisdom of Ageing
That afternoon, Pak Tony sat longer than usual on the veranda.
The world around him had not changed: motorcycles still passed, vendors still shouted, children still laughed in the alley nearby.
Yet inwardly, something had shifted.
He began to understand that aging was not merely decline. It was refinement. The stripping away of illusion. The simplification of priorities. The rediscovery of what truly matters.
Portfolio life, he realized, was not a lesser version of corporate life. It was a different philosophy of living.
A life where:
freedom matters more than status
meaning matters more than visibility
contribution matters more than control
and gratitude matters more than ambition
Pak Tony knew there would still be moments of uncertainty:
moments of financial concern
moments of loneliness
moments of wondering whether society still valued old men without formal power
But Rendra’s poem had given him peace.
Life was never about owning the world. It was about receiving life gratefully, carrying it wisely, and returning it gracefully when the time came.
Before Life Asks Us to Let Go
As night slowly descended upon the old Javanese neighbourhood, Pak Tony remained seated on the veranda long after the evening prayer had faded into silence. The world around him continued as it always had. Motorcycles passing by, distant laughter from children, the rustling of leaves carried by the wind. Yet something within him had changed. For the first time in many years, he no longer felt the need to chase significance. He only wished to live truthfully, gratefully, and lightly.
Perhaps that is the quiet wisdom that aging eventually offers to those willing to listen: that life was never meant to be measured only by titles accumulated, wealth preserved, or influence displayed. In the end, the applause fades, positions are replaced, and even the most celebrated careers slowly become stories told by others. What remains is something far more personal and enduring. It is the kindness we extended, the lives we illuminated, the wisdom we shared, and the peace we cultivated within ourselves.
Rendra’s poem reminded Pak Tony that human beings spend much of their lives trying to own what was only ever entrusted to them for a little while. Time. Relationships. Opportunities. Health. Love. Even life itself. And perhaps true maturity begins the moment we stop asking, “How much more can I achieve?” and start asking: “How meaningfully can I live the time that remains?”
As Pak Tony folded the poem carefully and placed it beside him, he realized that entering the final chapters of life was not about becoming smaller. It was about becoming clearer.
simpler
more human
more compassionate
more free
And maybe that is the invitation this story leaves for every reader, whether thirty-nine, forty-nine, or sixty-nine:
Before life quietly asks us to return everything that was once entrusted to us, have we truly learned how to live wisely, love deeply, let go gracefully, and become a lantern for others along the way?
The author, Pri Notowidigdo, is a writer and reflective thinker whose life journey has been shaped by overcoming personal and professional challenges with resilience, wisdom, and compassion. His writings explore meaning, transition, identity, gratitude, and human dignity, encouraging readers to embrace change, rise above adversity, and live thoughtfully with humility and purpose.