Lately, I’ve been ruminating on aging.
Eight months ago, I turned 60 and I’m still letting it in. Suddenly, retirement isn’t a lifetime away. Suddenly, I’m watching myself physically age faster than I’ve noticed or even fathomed before. Suddenly, I’m aware of the potential of having just a few decades left rather than what seemed like an endless length of time.
I don’t feel old… yet time seems more precious than it ever had before. My oldest and dearest friend died in March, so tending to my relationships has taken on a new, laser-sharp focus.
I’m increasingly aware that something inside me is shifting towards what’s most important, such as how and with whom I want to spend my time, and what my priorities are for the next 10 years. My definition of and experience of beauty and wisdom are also taking on new meaning. And self-care takes up more time and and has grown in importance in my physical and emotional life.
These aren’t bad things. They’re new things. I recently read a quote from Parker Palmer, one of my favorite authors, where he said, “I want to collaborate with aging.”