“Why is it that as we grow older and stronger/The road signs point us adrift and make us afraid?/
Saying you never can win, watch your back, where’s your husband?/Oh, I don’t like the signs that the sign makers made/
So I’m gonna steal out with my paint and my brushes/
I’ll change the directions, I’ll hit every street/It’s the Tinseltown scandal, the Robin Hood Vandal/
She goes out and steals the King’s English/And in the morning you wake up and the signs point to you/They say, “I’m so glad that you finally made it here/
You thought nobody cared, but I did, I could tell/And this is your year, and it always starts here/
And oh, you’re aging well” — You’re Aging Well, Dar Williams
I am 32 days out from my 60th birthday. It’s not surprising that approaching a landmark number like this brings up a lot of feelings and reflection. In some ways, I don’t feel any differently than I did when I was 14 and Kathy Schinner and I would call each other every night to plan out our outfits for the next day. I’m still that giggly girl. And in other ways, I’m not. I’ve seen how life, relationships, and the world can harden you, make you cynical, even jaded. I am often too serious.
Recently I had the opportunity to travel to Alaska for a writers retreat led by Cheryl Strayed (someone who has certainly seen more than her fair share of life’s hardships). I’d signed up on a whim, wanting badly to honor this big birthday year somehow special, but finding all my initial ideas falling through. My kids were too busy to travel, I didn’t want to throw my own concert/party, like I’d done for my 50th. (That night was magical, one of the best of my life, and didn’t need to be repeated.) So when the advertisement for this 5 day retreat in Cordova came across my feed, I said yes. I didn’t know anything about Alaska, much less really consider myself a writer, but something about it just felt right.
Upon arrival in Anchorage, there had been plans for a large pre-retreat gathering at one of the airport bars, but two other retreaters and I found only one another. I am so glad. This little intimate group was the baby step I needed before launching into a sorority of 40+ women all searching for their own truth, their own voice.
What happened in Alaska was exactly what the doctor (Dr. Maura, it turns out) ordered. The misty mountain air provided a hit of oxygen my soul starved for. There, I found my 14 year old self, as well as my “wise inner sage.” I contemplated my past as I wrote, and I discovered my curiosity and dare I say, excitement, about my future. I am done looking back. I am calmly and confidently stepping into whatever comes next.
(Title and lyrics used without permission by Dar. I hope she doesn't mind.)