Being, Aging and Brussel Sprouts Bliss: ode to the joy of nearing 50

At age 28 on the north shore of Kaua’i, adorned by a bikini top and sarong, I decided I wanted to become a mother one day. Walking barefoot on the farm of two dear friends in Kilauea, holding their toddler on my hip, I thought, Life cannot get any better. 

At 38, I was pregnant. My whole being was ripened with the glow of new Life, a daughter growing inside of me, her father was elated. What!? Surreal. It was easy to eat well and hydrate abundantly after decades of that not being true, and my libido was more vivacious than ever. Everything felt alive. Again, I thought, Life cannot get any better. 

Ha! Ta-da… 

Now 48, celebrating my 49th birthday in three weeks, two seemingly contradictory truths are simultaneously true. Life is as good as it gets, and Life will keep showing me: even better. 

Gratitude streams from morning’s early birdsong and pinkened, uplit sky. 

My daughter is healthy. My dog is healthy. I am healthy (after a 2-week bout with a pesky cough and pinkeye). Having faced death three years ago, I will never count wellness as anything less than huge. When I dropped my daughter off at school this morning, after leaving thank-you notes in the office for the incredible dedication of my daughter’s 5th grade teacher and the school Director, this sign greeted me on the playground:

Come on! Go ahead, try and be grumpy after being greeted by that. Gratitude feels so much better. 

I could go on, listing 1,000 things I’m grateful for today. And, I won’t. 

Bleep… OK OK, this morning I bought tickets to see Alison Krauss and Robert Plant in August. Whaaaaaaaat?! (Shirley, I hear you shrieking all the way down the coast in San Diego.)

What I will share is this:
Huge joy is available to you right now. 
All it takes is your choice to see it. 

 It is that simple. That is how generous Life is. 

Since everything is contagious — as everything is energy — I’ll drop here some dollops of whipped-up Love-cream to brighten-invite you into seeing your own joy.

Today I went grocery shopping at my favorite market, Oliver’s. My employer gave me a surprising day off, so suddenly — with my daughter at school and our dog on a pack hike — I was free to stroll down its aisles unhurried, gazing at brussel sprouts, flax muffins and glass jarred lavender fir chamomile candles on its shelves. I was just being, and it was all so beautiful.

If you are a mama, you so understand this joy. 

Driving home, I listened to Colin Hay’s dreamy voice wailing in my car while I fantasized about the hike I would take once the rains calmed. And when I walked to my porch with four double-bagged sacks of groceries, I came upon a bouquet of flowers leaning against the door. 

One of my besties had left the flowers for me, and in her card she wrote her classic loving prose to honor the passing of my (middle) namesake, Maxine, who left her body three days ago. All I was doing was being — getting home after an errand. And I thought, How loved could I be?, as I unlocked the door to carry bags and flowers into the kitchen. 

As I folded up the bags, I thought, Yay! I can use these to carry recyclables down to the big bin in the parking lot. I was just being, noticing a stack of bags beneath my wool slippers on a rainy day. I admired their folded-up black and brown beauty, marked with the memory of the store I adore and only visit every six weeks. 

Thirty minutes later, the flowers adorned my piano — the one Maxine played for me on her last visit, when she was 90 — and gorgeous food filled my kitchen cupboards. 

How fortunate am I?, I thought, to have plenty of food to feed my child, myself and friends we invite to share food with us? To have friends who love my dog and are so grateful for the food we eat together?

No. Small. Things. Every one, a gesture of Life’s Love.

You might be a living Champion of Being, Aging and Bliss. You, too, might choose to bask in the elation of gratitude most — or even all! — the days of your precious Life. Know this: If you are having a tough day, one that you might rate a 60% or even 15% on the joy-scale with bliss at 100… 

A better day is coming. When you choose to see it. 

Joy is everywhere. Why? Because you are so completely loved. 

I wonder what joy will look like when I’m 58. But not for long. This moment of now is so delicious, I’ll bask in it for awhile… 

Even when the body reaches 75 or 90, and pain feels all too familiar… the Light of  joy is there, awaiting your eyes’ adoration, wanting your consciousness to choose to see it shining. The radiant arms of ecstasy welcome your embrace, just like a toddler who just made his first huuuuuge 1-foot leap off the edge of the slide, awaits your grinning applause.