Birthday – Another trip Round the Sun

Another Trip Round the Sun
Still crazy after all these years

I tend to write my blogs on Sunday mornings. And this one happens to be my birthday, so I can’t help but reflect on what it means to be turning 72.

I want to be full-on positive, sprouting wisdom and inspiration but I also want to be honest. And even that is layered. Truth, like a radio dial, picks up wherever you’ve tuned in: what you lack, what you’re grateful for, what you still long for.

Circling my head, I keep hearing the old pop tune: It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to…I don’t want to cry, yet I feel it like a dare. On this day, I get to show exactly how I feel and you can’t call me a complainer.

I’m writing as if on a carousel and each time round, I see something new, realize something new. Or maybe something very old re-awakening.

What I know, turning another year: that I need to dance like no one’s watching, to sing as if the invisible elves are in bliss, to risk showing myself with the delicate trust that someone, somewhere will resonate and be touched by my willingness to share. That money isn’t the most important thing, though not being poor (as I was much of my life) is a genuine relief. That health, meaning. and a sense of humor matter more than anything.

What I still wish for: a great awakening, that we humans might grow into our capacity for love and kindness, that we stop being afraid of the person who doesn’t look like us.I wish I hadn’t been so afraid in my past. Habits are stubborn and I’m still working on releasing the old assumption that no one likes me, that I do life wrong, that I’m too late, or too early, or just too damn much. That one’s a slow unlearning.

I wish for a circle of friends, (in the same land I’m in, as I have friends scattered everywhere) and a place I can afford to call home. I wish my husband, who it took me many years to fully love and learn how to be with, lives as long as I do. That we stay healthy, and when the time comes, find an easy transition into whatever’s next. That I get to witness the great awakening, while I’m still alive. I wish for a book or song of mine to go out in the world and touch someone deeply, maybe help them, and be part of the larger conversation. To not have to keep proving myself.

What I’m grateful for: that I can make people laugh, and sometimes even myself. That I can still give lessons and concerts, that I still love to dance and walk and swim and sing and meet new people and feel the particular joy of unexpected connection. That I have empathy to care about the suffering in the world, and can take actions, however small, to help. For my brothers, who call every week just to check in and report their latest. And for my husband, whom I still find genuine pleasure in sharing life. My health and his and all my loved ones. And that I’m still learning, still growing, still glad to be alive.

On getting older: It turns out there are silver linings in the unexpected places. I’m less ashamed than I used to be. I dare more. And am making peace that it takes a little longer getting out of a car. I’m so much better at finding calm and happiness in nature, something I had a heck of a time doing when I was younger.

And maybe this is the truest thing I’ve learned: even if I’m never famous, never celebrated—I can still hold a door open. Help someone up a steep set of steps. Smile at a child who looks a little lost or just smile anyway.

That’s enough. That’s more than enough.