Midlife isn’t a crisis. Midlife is an awakening. And the friendship among women+ in midlife is the portal. Everywhere I turn lately there is this voltaic, swirling, kinetic energy among women waking up to themselves in midlife. Women who have lived through some shit. Women who have had things go ridiculously right and been on top of the world and also terribly, terribly wrong and have made their beds on ocean floors. Women who know both love and grief, who carry both wonder and heartbreak. Women who are married and not, who have children and don’t, who have jobs and careers and are not employed and those who have retired.
Made this 42-year-old stand up and cheer: "Midlife is not an age or a season, but the waking up to our original goodness, to who we were before the world told us who to be. Midlife is the re-membering of the parts of ourselves we buried long ago but that still have a part to play. Even now. Especially now."
"...women with dirt under their nails from their own excavation." 🌱
This reminds me of a piece from a book I read recently by Olivia Clare:"To pray, is to hope. To ask. To ask and wonder. What do you want to ask?" She did not look up. She tore at a tough stem violently. " You don't have to say it out loud. You can ask without using words." I said nothing. It was though I were asking something of the world without exactly knowing the words or what it was. A tendril of moss worked its grey way around a flowering weed. At the center of the petals, the heart of the flower sat like a gold eye. I almost left it there. But the gardens sprouts were overrun, would need to grow. I snapped the head of the flower clean from the stem. Josephine stopped, looked at me. "Good," she said. "Very good. Keep going now. Keep asking." I moved farther and faster. My hands clearing, attacking. Sprouts from the seeds we'd planted were more and more visible, like stars opening, brightening. I clawed and shredded, suddenly bursting, splitting the stems."
Midlife isn't a crisis, it's an awakening.
Made this 42-year-old stand up and cheer: "Midlife is not an age or a season, but the waking up to our original goodness, to who we were before the world told us who to be. Midlife is the re-membering of the parts of ourselves we buried long ago but that still have a part to play. Even now. Especially now."
"...women with dirt under their nails from their own excavation." 🌱
This reminds me of a piece from a book I read recently by Olivia Clare:"To pray, is to hope. To ask. To ask and wonder. What do you want to ask?" She did not look up. She tore at a tough stem violently. " You don't have to say it out loud. You can ask without using words." I said nothing. It was though I were asking something of the world without exactly knowing the words or what it was. A tendril of moss worked its grey way around a flowering weed. At the center of the petals, the heart of the flower sat like a gold eye. I almost left it there. But the gardens sprouts were overrun, would need to grow. I snapped the head of the flower clean from the stem. Josephine stopped, looked at me. "Good," she said. "Very good. Keep going now. Keep asking." I moved farther and faster. My hands clearing, attacking. Sprouts from the seeds we'd planted were more and more visible, like stars opening, brightening. I clawed and shredded, suddenly bursting, splitting the stems."
🌱🌱🌱
Fuuuuuuuuuckkk yeeeeeeesss. This is SO GOOD. 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
🔥🔥🔥🔥 this friend, this is it and also where we’re flowing. (Holy AND Wholly)
I love you and all your deep wisdom. 🔥