56

For my birthday this year I’m wandering through the sea of humanity that is New York City. Every time I visit I find myself instantly in an existential state, spurred by the cultural, sensory, architectural, and culinary assault of NY. My thoughts today are on the idea of turning 56.

‘Six’ birthdays represent a downhill slide to the next decade. I’m closer to sixty than fifty. This is terrifying to someone so vain and age-conscious as me. I’ve overcome a lot of traumas, fears, and phobias in my lifetime but I still wrestle with the aging thing.

Perhaps since I’ve chosen to go it solo in my midlife, I harbor a fear of what that means in my elderly years. I’m completely fine with my life now… my community is magnificent and we are truly living for the epic. We meet up all over the world, play, chill, explore, and talk about living present, caring for our bodies and minds. We share ChatGPT prompts, music, memes.

We help each other in our inevitable life challenges — a network of experiences, lessons learned, and patient support exactly as we need. We’ve already weeded out the fluff and formed bonds that will carry us to the grave together. I never feel alone, no matter where I am.

I’ve also never laughed so hard in my life. A few reasons why… first I am comfortable with who I am. Nothing stifles joy more than insecurity. Yes, I’m judgmental, opinionated, strong willed, and brash. But I’m also incredibly generous, present, willing to let go, and, in the right circumstance, kinda funny. Accepting these things facilitates natural riotous interactions with people who have similarly done their work.

I’m also irreverent. Balance is key here. I can easily bounce between my Vipassana state and Rick & Morty. I’ll flow between sweltering asanas and a good dick joke. Life is too short to be too serious. The people I love the most could never by offended by such irreverence. Rather, they require it.

But perhaps the single greatest aspect of finding joy in my 50s is that I stopped holding on to anything that doesn’t serve me. Letting go is the mantra of this decade. Sure, I hate on LeBron, get angst in traffic, grind my teeth in a customer service shitshow. But what’s different now is that it just doesn’t land. There’s no part of my body, mind, or soul that is holding on to these things. I can float above my anxiety, look down on it and laugh.

I’ve also let go of any notion of achieving more than I’ve already achieved. This one is tricky. We’re constantly craving for more and measuring our life against an imaginary yardstick. When do we actually start living the life we are seeking? At 56, this is positive madness (it was also at 30, 40, and 50, but who knew?). With so little time left, it’s time to enjoy what we’ve got and work towards acceptance and gratitude. Every minute of every day I’m focused on living THIS life as best I can.

With that, I’m going into 56 with the intention of more of the same. More year-round board shorts & flip flops, more planes, trains, and sun-soaked road trips along exotic and unfamiliar shores. More pop-ins on my people far and wide in Rome, Rabat, or Redwood City. More meet-ups in Morocco, Mexico, and the Maldives. And, of course, more laughter — bust-a-gut, self deprecating, irreverent laughter.