Old folk are all around us: their features aged, hair wispy and white, hands clutching canes, they sit in the doorways of their homes, practice tai chi in the park, volunteer at recycling stations, read the paper, look after their grandchildren. Their faces tell the story of Taiwan.

Taiwan has at least 2.3 million healthy senior citizens. And our low birthrates and long life expectancies are aging our overall population structure. This has consequences for both our government and our society, affecting the allocation of resources, creating shortfalls in the labor market, and challenging the ability of families to care for their elderly. These consequences aren’t hypothetical; they are on our very doorstep.

The clearest warning sign of the coming crisis is the imminent transformation of the post-war baby boom into a modern senior boom.

The first boomers (those born in 1946) reached retirement age in 2011. Taiwan’s birthrate was 200–300,000 babies per year back then, making it virtually inevitable that the coming retirement of the boomers is going to leave us with more seniors than young people. People in their fifties now are generally able to share the burden of caring for their elderly parents among siblings. But this generation had relatively few children of its own, making it much more likely that its members will have to depend on themselves in their retirement. I’m in the same boat myself, and we are, all of us, going to need to give serious thought to how we’re going to manage our twilight years.

The prospect of poverty in our waning years is terrifying. How much capital do we need to get through those years securely?

One financial journalist recommends that those on the verge of retirement create four accounts: a daily living account with a balance equal to their annual living expenses multiplied by the number of years of remaining to them; a private medical insurance account to help defray the costs of medical expenses not covered by National Health Insurance (NHI); a long-term care account to cover the costs of third-party care should they become frail; and an entertainment account to cover things such as travel, fine dining, and getting together with friends.

This approach suggests that we need a minimum of NT$15 million to retire, an amount that may well seem astronomical to the average working person. But we don’t have to retire in this fashion. The way we choose to do so reflects our values.

For example, at nearly 60 years of age, travel writer Shu Guo­zhi doesn’t own a house and often has less than NT$1,000 in the bank. When he’s short of money, he writes a few more essays and gets on with his world travels.

An old physician I interviewed similarly spends less than NT$20,000 per month. He looks far younger than his years and is healthy to boot. In fact, he only used his NHI card once last year… for a teeth cleaning. His healthcare regimen consists of nothing more than exercise. He says the nine kilometers he runs every day keeps him healthy by keeping the blood circulating in his brain.

Finding a way to imbue your life with significance can be even more important than your finances when entering old age.

That’s been the approach of Peter ­Huang and Tracy Lin, founders of the New Tai­pei City Silver-Haired Club. The couple, still a sprightly 57, have thrown themselves into community service by providing meals to the elderly. Stanley Yen, the godfather of Taiwan’s tourism industry, has also taken this path. Yen, a fixture in volunteer circles in Hua­lien and Tai­tung, says that he and the individuals he has recruited are extraordinarily fortunate to be able to make a difference in the lives of people in the Hua­lien–Tai­tung region, and even in Taiwan as a whole.

Or take Wu Lin Meizhi, a vigorous 91-year-old Yilan resident who still dances every day.

We may not be able to turn back time, but we can find strength and vitality in our later years.