Live your life to the nines
in about two weeks i’m turning 60. six oh. and i don’t feel 60. and to be balls-out honest, i’m not really sure what 60 is supposed to feel like. but this is what i absolutely fucking know, 60 is not the new 18, or 25, or 40. 60 is the new improved sexy awesome 60.
it is a life well worn, well lived, well intended, and finally, well tended to. i have lived many lives in 60 years. the young girl who didn’t know who she was, and didn’t much care. not a bit. that girl had no self-esteem, or self-worth, or self anything. she hurt herself a lot. and she hurt the folks she loved. that young girl wanted desperately to be loved. to be seen. to be heard. to be noticed. to be important enough to be wanted. she was not a happy girl.
and then there’s the 20s, where she kinda, sorta… found her way a bit. pieces. slivers. she started saying no to the stuff & men & people that caused her pain. she didn’t say no a lot, but she learned to say no. and she started to like herself a bit. she was able to look in the mirror and see someone she thought was kinda sorta beautiful, pretty. not every day, but on many days.
and then the 30s were better, filled with a sense of self, a sense of right & wrong, and sense of wanting to do good in the world. and yes, the 30s were definitely filled with some wrong turns, a few wrong guys (okay, more than a few wrong guys, i could go alphabetical), a few mistakes… but then… at the very end of that decade, she found the man who would sweep her off her very high-heeled feet, and show her what unconditional good kind sexy love was all about. he was the period at the end of that sentence/decade.
and then the 40s, which somehow blended right into the 50s, was when the girl became a woman whose passion & mission was for all women to awaken to their greatness & beauty. and she, the woman, stumbled a bit, lost her way a bit, experienced menopause which was so very fun-filled. the best two words she could find to describe menopause would be HOLY MOTHERFUCKER, and that’s when some days blended into other days because she couldn’t get out of bed. and then she got out of bed, and she wrote a book about everything plus some, and that filled her soul up, and she decided to help others fill their souls. and life continued happening even on days when it felt hard & difficult & scary & sad & filled to the brim with losses. a father, a mother, a family imploding.
and then that woman started taking her very own advice: to stand tall, make a ruckus, stand up for others, share the goodie bag, be kind and then be kinder, love more & better, champion others, support others, inspire & encourage others, speak up, speak up more & often, be generous and then be more generous, share the wealth, complete not compete, make more of a ruckus, write/right the truth, be brave & bold & audacious & lift others, lift them higher, rise up, rise up again & again & more & often, and inspire folks every single fucking day to be the kind of women they name hurricanes after, and the kind of men they name parks & buildings & hospital wings after.
and before she knew it, she was turning 60.
so, live your life well,
live it to the nines.
strut your gorgeous sexy stuff.
be fierce & mighty.
and don’t let anyone – not one soul – make you feel unworthy, unloved, unwanted, undeserving.
we don’t get here alone.
there is a tribe, an army, a community of folks who hold us up, have our back, love us madly, cheer us on and wish us – really wish us – good loving extraordinary awesome days.
i bow to you all.