Ever wonder why your grandparents seemed to have a steadier sense of who they were, even without therapy apps or self-help books?

There’s something quietly compelling about the generations who came of age in the ’60s and 70s. They lived through upheaval, protests, economic shocks, and cultural revolutions — yet many of them developed a kind of grounded resilience that feels rare today.

They weren’t optimizing their lives through online gurus or sorting through a thousand wellness trends. Instead, they absorbed wisdom simply by living through it.

Maybe it’s time we paused to take notes.

Here are 9 powerful lessons from previous generations that might be exactly what we need to remember right now.

1. Living within your means was actually a form of freedom

Remember when having “enough” was actually enough?

People who grew up in the 60s and 70s learned early that financial peace came from spending less than you earned — not from chasing the next salary bump or credit limit increase.

This wasn’t about deprivation — it was about real freedom.

Back in 1970, the middle class captured roughly 62% of national income — far higher than today — reinforcing the old lesson that broad-based prosperity grows when everyone lives within their means.

They understood something we’ve forgotten: when you’re not constantly worried about money, you can focus on what actually matters. No side hustles to fund lifestyles they couldn’t afford. No anxiety about keeping up with neighbors who were probably struggling too.

It’s wild how revolutionary this sounds now, but living below your means used to be common sense. Maybe it’s time we remembered that financial security isn’t about earning more — it’s about needing less.

2. They knew how to be bored—and why it mattered

When was the last time you were truly, completely bored?

People from earlier decades didn’t have smartphones to grab every time their minds wandered. They couldn’t scroll through endless feeds or binge-watch shows whenever silence crept in. And you know what? This “disadvantage” was actually a gift.

Boredom forced them to sit by themselves.

To daydream. To think through problems without immediately seeking distraction. They learned to be comfortable in their own heads—something that feels almost impossible today.

I notice this in my own life. The moment I feel even slightly unstimulated, I’m reaching for my phone.

But those quiet moments?

That’s when creativity happens. That’s when you actually process what’s going on in your life.

Kids in the 70s would spend entire summer afternoons lying in the grass, staring at clouds. Adults would sit on porches without entertainment, just… existing. They discovered that boredom isn’t something to escape—it’s something to embrace.

Maybe we need to remember that our minds actually need downtime to function properly.

3. They understood that not everything needed to be shared

Picture this: you accomplish something meaningful, have a beautiful moment, or experience something profound — and your first instinct isn’t to post about it.

That was just normal life for people in the 60s and 70s. They lived entire experiences without documenting them for an audience. They had private thoughts, private moments, and private victories that stayed private.

This wasn’t because they were antisocial or didn’t value connection. It’s because they understood something we’ve lost: that some experiences are actually more meaningful when they’re not performed for others.

They could enjoy a sunset without photographing it. They could have deep conversations without tweeting quotes afterward. They could feel proud of an achievement without needing external validation to make it “real.”

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, especially after reading Rudá Iandê’s new book “Laughing in the Face of Chaos.” His insights about authenticity over perfection made me realize that people from earlier decades seemed to intuitively understand lessons we’re now desperately trying to relearn.

There’s something powerful about keeping certain parts of your life sacred — untouched by the need for approval or documentation.

Sometimes the most profound moments are the ones nobody else ever hears about.

4. They learned to sit with discomfort instead of fixing it immediately

Here’s something that might sound strange: people in the ’60s and ’70s were better at being uncomfortable.

They didn’t have endless options to escape difficult feelings. No streaming services to numb out with, no social media to mindlessly scroll through, no same-day delivery to provide instant retail therapy. When life got hard, they had to actually deal with it.

This taught them something crucial — that discomfort isn’t an emergency requiring immediate action. They learned to sit with sadness, frustration, or anxiety without immediately reaching for a quick fix.

Think about it: if you felt anxious in 1974, you might talk to a friend, go for a walk, or just sit with the feeling until it passed.

Today, we have a hundred different ways to avoid ever feeling uncomfortable for more than a few minutes.

But here’s the thing — emotions are messengers. When we constantly distract ourselves from them, we miss what they’re trying to tell us. Those earlier generations understood that sometimes you need to feel the feeling to get through it.

Maybe our constant need to optimize and fix everything is actually making us less resilient.

5. They made decisions and stuck with them

Decision fatigue wasn’t really a thing back then — not because life was simpler, but because people understood that endless options don’t necessarily make you happier.

When someone chose a career path, a spouse, or even a restaurant for dinner, they committed to that choice. They didn’t spend hours researching every possible alternative or constantly second-guessing themselves.

This wasn’t about being rigid or close-minded. It was about understanding that the perfect choice doesn’t exist, and that constantly seeking it will drive you crazy. They picked something good enough and put their energy into making it work.

Today, we can spend more time choosing what to watch on Netflix than our grandparents spent deciding where to live. We’ve been sold this idea that more options equal more freedom, but often it just equals more anxiety.

There’s real wisdom in making a decision and moving forward with it.

Not every choice needs to be optimized to death. Sometimes “good enough” really is good enough, and the energy you save can go toward actually living your life instead of endlessly planning it.

6. They knew the difference between privacy and secrecy

This one’s subtle but important: people from earlier decades understood that you could be open and honest without sharing every detail of your life.

They had healthy boundaries around what they discussed and with whom.

Personal struggles stayed within the family or close friend circle. Financial details weren’t casual conversation topics. Relationship issues were worked out between the people involved, not broadcast to anyone who would listen.

This wasn’t about shame or hiding — it was about understanding that some things are sacred. That intimacy actually requires some level of privacy to flourish.

They could be vulnerable and authentic without feeling the need to perform that vulnerability for others. They understood that real connection happens in small, trusted circles, not in front of audiences.

Today, we’ve somehow convinced ourselves that sharing everything is the same as being authentic. But there’s a difference between being real and being an open book.

Sometimes the most honest thing you can do is keep certain parts of your life private.

7. They weren’t afraid of commitment

Whether it was relationships, jobs, or even hobbies, people in the ’60s and ’70s understood that depth comes from sticking with something through the difficult parts.

They didn’t bail on relationships at the first sign of conflict or quit jobs because they had a bad week. They understood that anything worthwhile requires working through challenges, not around them.

This wasn’t about settling or staying in truly toxic situations. It was about understanding that growth happens in the messy middle, not in the honeymoon phase or the fresh start.

They knew that constantly seeking the next best thing keeps you perpetually on the surface of life. Real satisfaction comes from going deep—whether that’s with a person, a skill, or a community.

Today, we live in a culture that celebrates pivoting and keeping options open. But there’s something to be said for choosing something and sticking with it long enough to see what’s possible on the other side of the hard parts.

8. They understood that happiness wasn’t the point

This might be the most radical lesson of all: people from earlier decades weren’t obsessed with being happy all the time.

They understood that life includes difficulty, sadness, and frustration — and that these aren’t problems to be solved but experiences to be lived through. They didn’t expect every day to be fulfilling or every moment to spark joy.

Instead, they focused on meaning, purpose, and doing what needed to be done. They found satisfaction in responsibility, in contributing to something bigger than themselves, in building something that would last.

The constant pursuit of happiness that defines so much of modern life would have seemed strange to them. They knew that happiness comes and goes, but character, relationships, and legacy are what actually matter.

As Rudá Iandê writes in his newly published book, “By letting go of the pursuit of happiness as the ultimate goal, we can start to cultivate a more balanced and realistic approach to life. We can learn to welcome and value the full range of human emotions, understanding that each one has its place and purpose.”

This shift in perspective changes everything about how you approach daily life.

9. They learned from experience, not experts

People in the 60s and 70s didn’t have the internet to guide them through every twist and turn of life. No “10-step frameworks,” no podcast lineups, no YouTube tutorials breaking down emotional regulation or financial planning.

Instead, they made mistakes. Repeatedly. And they learned from them.

They trusted trial and error more than theoretical knowledge. They relied on gut instincts, conversations, reflection, and — most of all — direct lived experience. There was no constant second-guessing because they weren’t inundated with expert takes every time they turned around.

Today, we’re swimming in guidance but often paralyzed by it. Ironically, our pursuit of certainty and perfection has chipped away at our confidence. We’re afraid to try unless we know it’ll work. We’re scared to fail — even though failure is how our parents and grandparents became who they are.

They weren’t worried about doing it “right.” They just did it — and figured it out as they went. And that’s why they became wise.

Maybe the best expert on your life… is you.

Final thoughts

Looking back at these lessons, I can’t help but wonder: have we overcomplicated what it means to live well?

The generations who came of age in the 60s and 70s weren’t perfect — they had their own struggles and blind spots. But they seemed to understand something fundamental that we’ve lost in our rush to optimize, document, and fix everything.

They lived with a kind of groundedness that feels almost foreign today. Not because life was easier, but because they accepted that it was hard and found ways to work with that reality instead of against it.

Reading Rudá Iandê’s book reminded me of something powerful: When we stop resisting ourselves, we become whole. And in that wholeness, we discover a reservoir of strength, creativity, and resilience we never knew we had.

Maybe that’s what those earlier generations figured out — how to stop fighting reality and start working with it.

The beautiful thing is that these lessons aren’t lost to time.

We can still choose to live within our means, to sit with discomfort, to make decisions without endless research. We can still value privacy, embrace boredom, and focus on meaning over happiness.