50 reflections on growing older
When I reached 100 blog posts, I shared a list of 100 random things: quotes, life lessons, reasons I write, future blog posts percolating in my mind, and more bits and pieces. At 200 blog posts, I sent you another 100 random musings.
This week, I am celebrating 250 blog posts! I could offer you another list of random things, but this feels like the right time to go a bit deeper!
I have been reflecting on things that I am noticing these days. Some are similar to what I might have written five or fifteen years ago; many are new. Then I asked myself - why did this stay with me? I then added that layer as best I could, providing a bit more depth.
Here are 50 reflections about growing older. As I started writing, I found my reflections naturally gathered into themes that show up in many of my blog posts.
Nature and daily life
I enjoy early mornings now that I no longer work, when the day hasn’t yet asked anything of me, and I can hear my own thoughts.
I love the sound of rain on our metal roof - it makes me feel safe, sheltered from the outside world.
I love the quality of late afternoon light, reminding me that each day is a gift.
I love the roar of the ocean, a reminder of what a small part I play in this vast world.
I love silence in nature, when not even a single bird sings, and I take time to pause.
I am drawn to places where I can walk without purpose, enjoying the journey.
I love arriving at a new destination and feeling entirely at ease.
I return to certain landscapes because they feel like home.
I enjoy heading back to familiar hiking trails, appreciative of old growth forest and nursery stumps.
I marvel at the resilient rufous-sided hummingbirds returning from their long migration, nd think of the journey ahead.
Relationships
I enjoy spending time with women who tell their life stories without exaggeration or apology.
I love meaningful conversations in which something shifts but does not need to be named.
I like meandering from topic to topic.
I am drawn to women who have done their own inner work. These days, I want to go below the surface.
I feel relief when I am with someone who already knows my history and doesn’t need it explained again.
I also enjoy being with someone who is unaware of my history, and only sees me in the moment.
I love the quiet companionship of walking beside someone without the need to fill the space with words.
I am blessed to be the mother of daughters and omi to three granddaughters. We are all daughters of strong, resilient women.
I never knew I had an empty space in my heart until my granddaughters were born.
I still find comfort in my husband’s arms.
Writing
I write because it is the one place where I can tell my truth - even when I don’t quite unraveled that truth yet.
I treasure those moments in writing when something unexpected surfaces - something I recognize immediately as true.
I appreciate that there are stories I am still not ready to write - they are a reminder that I am not finished yet.
I love the moment when I am writing, and suddenly, the words are writing themselves.
I sometimes recognize myself in a story shared by one of the women in my life story writing workshops. There is comfort in knowing I am not alone.
Memories
I return to books I loved when I was younger to marvel at how I have changed.
I read old journals, and wish I could tell my younger self that everything will turn out all right one.
I linger over pieces of music that hold entire seasons of my life inside them - operas my mother listened to on the record player, Gregorian chants when I needed to comfort my soul, strong female voices that made me want to dance.
I visit certain places because they are soaked in memories.
I love the way memories arrive unexpectedly - words in a book, a familiar smell in a store, or hearing someone speak in my native language.
I return to memories to remember good times, and because my haling journey is not yet complete.
I sometimes wonder about relationships that ended without a clear reason, just a quiet drifting apart.
I remember mistakes I made in life with a compassion that I once did not think I deserved.
I worry that one day I may not remember, a reminder to capture my stories now, while I still can.
I savour every day moments that I hope will form new memories.
Growing older
I love the way time slows down when I am fully paying attention.
I can now differentiate between being busy and being fully engaged in my life.
I find myself questioning how I want to live the years I have left, and realize I don’t know yet - and that fills me with pleasant anticipation.
I love the moment I return home and feel the quiet settle around me again.
I am not bothered that becoming more myself may disappoint some people.
I no longer rush to resolve uncertainty as I once did.
I have learned that some questions do not need an answer.
I savour the kinds of days that I once would have considered boring.
I am drawn now to what feels routine and comfortable rather than briefly exciting.
I love the feeling of being absorbed in something that needs no outcome or solution.
I feel a quiet regret that I spent so many years being hard on myself.
I am finally talking with my body, not criticizing or lamenting, but listening and trying my best to take heed.
I am aware that my world is smaller now and richer.
I find comfort in the familiarity of my routines, while still enjoying unplanned days.
I love knowing that I am living the life I once hoped for.
If you feel drawn to try this yourself, I would love to know what you discover.