In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between them, there are doors.
— William Blake
Aging is not a problem to be solved; it’s a mystery to be lived. In our culture, we tend to view aging as a kind of failure—something unfortunate, to be resisted or disguised. But in truth, aging is a natural process, a sacred unfolding. It invites us to step out of the rush and noise of productivity and ambition and turn our attention inward. What’s essential now? Who are we without our titles, our roles, our striving? I often say that aging is a curriculum in letting go. It asks us to relinquish the identities that once gave us meaning, and in doing so, it reveals new layers of who we truly are. There’s grief in that letting go, of course—grief for what’s passing, what won’t return. But there’s also tremendous beauty and freedom. We’re no longer trying to prove anything. We don’t need to be impressive. We can be real. We can soften. We can ripen. This stage of life can open the door to a deeper tenderness—with ourselves, with others, with the world. We might discover a quiet joy in simply being, in witnessing the moment just as it is. And from that place, we’re not withdrawing from life—we’re participating in it more fully, with greater humility and presence. Aging, in this light, becomes a spiritual path.
