Being alive is the occasion: notes from 87 year old self
funny
how we spend so much of our lives
trying to become better…
more disciplined
more productive
more palatable
as if that were the point
of being here
•
but my future self
87
silver-haired and smiling
doesn’t give a shit
about efficiency
she leans across time
and whispers….
.
eat good butter
real bread
linger at the table
long after the meal is over
pour another glass of wine
sit in the sun
whenever it appears
stop acting
like joy
must be earned
.
don’t save
the beautiful dress
for an occasion
wear it
on a Tuesday
to the post office
being alive
is the occasion
.
plant herbs
you forget to water
dance barefoot
in the kitchen
leave books
open-faced
all over the house
let your home
look lived in
it is not
a museum
.
watch storms roll in
like theatre
fall in love
with small moments
completely
the world
will try
to turn you
into something efficient
do not let it
.
become impossible
to reduce
to usefulness
fill your life
with poetry
and stories
and people
you adore
.
and when grief comes…
because it will
do not let it
convince you
life is no longer sacred…
even broken hearts
are still capable
of astonishment
.
one day
you are old
with soft hands
and deep laugh lines
holding a cup of tea
or a glass of red
thinking…
god
what a strange
and beautiful thing
it was
to have been here
at all
Reflections
If your future self could whisper one truth to you from the end of your life… what do you think she would say
What have you been postponing until you become “better,” “healed,” “successful,” or “deserving”?
In what ways have you allowed the world to reduce you to usefulness instead of aliveness?
What makes you feel wildly, unmistakably glad to be here?
If being alive itself were the occasion… how would you live differently starting now?
Take a piece of paper and write down every role, pressure, expectation, and identity you’ve carried that made you feel valuable only through productivity.
Read them aloud.
Then tear the paper slowly into strips while repeating
I am allowed
to exist
beyond usefulness
Place the torn pieces in a bowl or burn them if that feels meaningful
Love Sarah xo
Love , love ,love . This is exactly how I am trying to live now and I’m only 61… never to young or old to live the life of wild spirit 🧡
“and when grief comes…
because it will
do not let it
convince you
life is no longer sacred…
even broken hearts
are still capable
of astonishment” I love this. As a caregiver I go through everyday with my broken heart. I carry it as I carry my ability to smile at a bunny in my yard, or reading those perfect words of an essay. These are the yin and yang of life and together they make me a stronger and more resilient person. But that person needs to let loose and be wild and free every once in a while.