| Dear John, Every Saturday at 10 am, I fire up Zoom on my computer and visit with a friend from England. She’s a woman in her eighties who’s had a successful career as a physician, and she’s in the process of winding down her work. We’ve been meeting for over a year and it’s a visit I look forward to because our conversations are intellectually stimulating, soulful, and a ritual of remembrance. She’s a wise elder with a spiritual perspective that keeps me attuned to the priorities that matter most now – peace, presence, and aliveness. This week, as we exchanged favorite books and documentaries, we also shared our love of winter as a period of rest and renewal. We talked about how aging has shifted our focus from addition to subtraction. Rather than set goals and intentions, we’re inspired to release what no longer serves us in the New Year. It’s not that we’ve lost our energy for ambition. It’s that our desires are born from refinement. We want more of what truly matters and less of what doesn’t. “As I look around my flat,” my friend tells me “I evaluate my surroundings through the lens of whether or not the things I share space with respect who I am at this time in my life.” What a unique way of considering your space, I say to her as I scribble down the idea. I want to try her approach. I glance at a picture book leaning against a wall and realize that the topic and the images no longer respect the woman I’ve grown into this year. I make a mental note to gift it to a worthier recipient. We meander down several paths as we often do. Death as the ultimate teacher in learning how to let go. The privilege of being with someone when they die. The experience of dismantling a life crafted by the influence of others in order to live more authentically. And how, in the New Year, we will keep our ongoing commitment to master the art of being because we’ve become so proficient at doing. Before signing off, I mention resolutions. “While I’m not one for resolutions,” my friend admits, “I’ve decided that this year I will smile at a stranger in a meaningful way at least once a day.” I laugh at the simple, loving nature of her decision. That’s the mark of an awakened elder, I think to myself as I put our next date into my calendar. Straightforward, other-focused, and kind. As I leave our meeting, I absorb her New Year’s proclamation into my heart. The shifting landscape of the wisdom years from self to others is a worthy endeavor, and I decide to adopt her non-resolution resolution for my own. I shall smile in a meaningful way to at least one stranger a day. Happy New Year, dear friends. Love,
Cheryl
P.S. – My audio program, Self Care for the Wisdom Years, can be found here. Need a little Divine Direction? Use the “Touch of Grace” button at the bottom of our homepage here.
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