This is an essay to come back to again and again when I need reminding that, as you say, "of course it's hard." But regarding myself as a warrior as I age feels soooo much better than seeing myself as a discard. Deep thanks for this, and I'm cheering you along on your Kilimanjaro 2.0.
Warm thanks, Jan. Your comment about how older women can be seen as a discard is harsh for this reason: this is how society sees women our age. I share that feeling at times, Jan, so this is very intimate to me. Unbelievable. Imagine, skewering our very own future by hating, abusing, despising our older self. That's part of what Dr. Becca Levy addresses in her seminal book Breaking the Age Code. Attitude really is everything. That's just one reason that we really do have to find the warrior within if for no other reason than to fend off the onslaught of age hate that would cause us to even say that we feel like a discard. How dare we treat this exquisite self with such disregard? This is how fear twists us into caricatures of ourselves. No wonder aging is such a challenge. That's why I write: those monsters beat at my front door as well. At some point, I need to invite them in for tea and ask them, what on earth do they want? As an intellectual exercise, that strikes me as very intriguing. What DO such thoughts want? And which part of us is the source? Big questions. I have no answers but worth a ponder.
I've read Dr. Levy's book — it's brilliant, and all the more powerful for being well-researched and evidence-based. Understand: I certainly don't see myself or older women as discards, far from it, but as you point out our society continually invites us to do just that, and of course it wears away at us. I love your image of inviting the monsters in for tea and ask them what in the world it is they want? As with so many damaging and limiting thoughts, I suspect they'll blink at us in surprise and say they're only trying to protect us. Ha!
Thanks for the clarification, I misread your comment. I don't see myself that way either but there are times that the messaging pushes in, and if I'm tired or worn or in pain or not feeling particularly warrior-like, I can sure hear it in a very painful place. BTW Jan, the idea of inviting the demons in came from something I read, and I wish I knew the source- but it really is brilliant. So was your last sentence. How many times to "well-meaning" friends and family try hard to talk us out of taking risks which make the bird in our chest sing, "just trying to protect us?" So very painfully true!
Great piece. I think the hardest part is that there’s no roadmap for our third act, as there was with the first two. But THEN, you realize WAIT! There is no roadmap! Woo-hoo! Once you realize that, you’re liberated!
This should be required reading for anyone turning 50. The world is full of people who achieved their best in the second or third act. The key to living your best until the last day is ikigai. That's a Japanese concept that essentially means having a reason to get out of bed each day. It keeps me in a state of tolerable frustration at running out of hours in any given day, and I will do my best to wring out as much as I can from each one allotted to me until they are gone.
That part where you asked, "What am I trying to recreate?" That's a big question. Sometimes we're just trying to recreate the feeling behind the accomplishment, forgetting that there are many new ones ahead of us. You always seem to write what I need to read when I need it.
Isn't that why we write, Kristi? When we write a truth, it's going to resonate across all kinds of folks. Our challenge is always whether or not we are willing, fertile ground. Your comments recently about that girl whose feet were always dangling over the water resonated powerfully with me and forced me to ask which direction I was facing. This really is why we write. And it really is all about being of service, which is just one reason why such frank honesty is so damned important.
You're absolutely correct, it's why we write. And if our words are hitting each other so boldly, I imagine they're also hitting others who just quietly take it in.
Let's contrast that with all the posts about MAKE SIX FIGURES ON SUBSTACK/MEDIUM blah blah. Maybe it's just me but I sure find that the older I get, even if things are challenging financially, the integrity behind my intentions for writing become so much more important.
This is an essay to come back to again and again when I need reminding that, as you say, "of course it's hard." But regarding myself as a warrior as I age feels soooo much better than seeing myself as a discard. Deep thanks for this, and I'm cheering you along on your Kilimanjaro 2.0.
Warm thanks, Jan. Your comment about how older women can be seen as a discard is harsh for this reason: this is how society sees women our age. I share that feeling at times, Jan, so this is very intimate to me. Unbelievable. Imagine, skewering our very own future by hating, abusing, despising our older self. That's part of what Dr. Becca Levy addresses in her seminal book Breaking the Age Code. Attitude really is everything. That's just one reason that we really do have to find the warrior within if for no other reason than to fend off the onslaught of age hate that would cause us to even say that we feel like a discard. How dare we treat this exquisite self with such disregard? This is how fear twists us into caricatures of ourselves. No wonder aging is such a challenge. That's why I write: those monsters beat at my front door as well. At some point, I need to invite them in for tea and ask them, what on earth do they want? As an intellectual exercise, that strikes me as very intriguing. What DO such thoughts want? And which part of us is the source? Big questions. I have no answers but worth a ponder.
I've read Dr. Levy's book — it's brilliant, and all the more powerful for being well-researched and evidence-based. Understand: I certainly don't see myself or older women as discards, far from it, but as you point out our society continually invites us to do just that, and of course it wears away at us. I love your image of inviting the monsters in for tea and ask them what in the world it is they want? As with so many damaging and limiting thoughts, I suspect they'll blink at us in surprise and say they're only trying to protect us. Ha!
Thanks for the clarification, I misread your comment. I don't see myself that way either but there are times that the messaging pushes in, and if I'm tired or worn or in pain or not feeling particularly warrior-like, I can sure hear it in a very painful place. BTW Jan, the idea of inviting the demons in came from something I read, and I wish I knew the source- but it really is brilliant. So was your last sentence. How many times to "well-meaning" friends and family try hard to talk us out of taking risks which make the bird in our chest sing, "just trying to protect us?" So very painfully true!
Great piece. I think the hardest part is that there’s no roadmap for our third act, as there was with the first two. But THEN, you realize WAIT! There is no roadmap! Woo-hoo! Once you realize that, you’re liberated!
Oy- if there was a roadmap I must have left in the glove compartment of my life!! Thanks for the kind words.
This should be required reading for anyone turning 50. The world is full of people who achieved their best in the second or third act. The key to living your best until the last day is ikigai. That's a Japanese concept that essentially means having a reason to get out of bed each day. It keeps me in a state of tolerable frustration at running out of hours in any given day, and I will do my best to wring out as much as I can from each one allotted to me until they are gone.
As always, thanks so very much, Jim.
That part where you asked, "What am I trying to recreate?" That's a big question. Sometimes we're just trying to recreate the feeling behind the accomplishment, forgetting that there are many new ones ahead of us. You always seem to write what I need to read when I need it.
Isn't that why we write, Kristi? When we write a truth, it's going to resonate across all kinds of folks. Our challenge is always whether or not we are willing, fertile ground. Your comments recently about that girl whose feet were always dangling over the water resonated powerfully with me and forced me to ask which direction I was facing. This really is why we write. And it really is all about being of service, which is just one reason why such frank honesty is so damned important.
You're absolutely correct, it's why we write. And if our words are hitting each other so boldly, I imagine they're also hitting others who just quietly take it in.
Let's contrast that with all the posts about MAKE SIX FIGURES ON SUBSTACK/MEDIUM blah blah. Maybe it's just me but I sure find that the older I get, even if things are challenging financially, the integrity behind my intentions for writing become so much more important.
Amen to that, sister!
Reading this on my way to the gym! So inspiring to have these words of wisdom and experience on my way to pump some iron! 💪💪💪💪😁