Can I handle the seasons of my life?
That’s the voice of Stevie Nicks in my ear as I write. I just wandered out of the bathroom in a bit of daze. I was brushing my teeth, and suddenly I noticed my hair glinting in the light. Not because it’s clean and shiny or because my childhood blonde highlights have returned, but rather it’s a new version of highlight that has entered my life - the silver kind.
I swear, it feels like my hair has turned salt and pepper almost overnight.
Of course, this should be no big surprise. Fifty is going to be around the corner before too long. I’ve always loved my three or four gray hairs, clustered together at the front, just right of center. They always felt like a herald of impending wisdom, an invitation to middle life, to a deepening into relationship with myself.
This morning they feel more like a harbinger of impending old age.
Sitting here with that sentence hanging as my last thought, I see that I have a choice. I can go down that road of fear and loss as if life is slipping through my fingers, as if I’m walking directly toward my grave.
Or I can acknowledge the deepening of this season of my life. I can take a moment to be with the fear - of loss, of separation, of the unknown. I can allow it to be present, allow it to sit here next to me without having to disappear or change into something else.
I can see that it doesn’t have to swallow me whole. Instead, space opens for that which is beyond all fear and suffering...wholeness, universal truth, God, so many names for that which does not need a name.
My awareness shifts to a welling up of gratitude for the opportunity of this journey, for having come this far. I can sit in the immediacy of this moment and appreciate the flowers on my desk and their sweet scent. Resting in the presence of this moment, time feels expansive and ever-present rather than like sand through my fingers.
Today, I will make an intentional choice to be with the herald in my hair rather than the harbinger. I will smile knowingly in the mirror and be glad for this season where choice feels possible.
Where are you choosing to hold onto fear or pain because it is easier? Where are you not allowing yourself to be at choice?
That’s the voice of Stevie Nicks in my ear as I write. I just wandered out of the bathroom in a bit of daze. I was brushing my teeth, and suddenly I noticed my hair glinting in the light. Not because it’s clean and shiny or because my childhood blonde highlights have returned, but rather it’s a new version of highlight that has entered my life - the silver kind.
I swear, it feels like my hair has turned salt and pepper almost overnight.
Of course, this should be no big surprise. Fifty is going to be around the corner before too long. I’ve always loved my three or four gray hairs, clustered together at the front, just right of center. They always felt like a herald of impending wisdom, an invitation to middle life, to a deepening into relationship with myself.
This morning they feel more like a harbinger of impending old age.
Sitting here with that sentence hanging as my last thought, I see that I have a choice. I can go down that road of fear and loss as if life is slipping through my fingers, as if I’m walking directly toward my grave.
Or I can acknowledge the deepening of this season of my life. I can take a moment to be with the fear - of loss, of separation, of the unknown. I can allow it to be present, allow it to sit here next to me without having to disappear or change into something else.
I can see that it doesn’t have to swallow me whole. Instead, space opens for that which is beyond all fear and suffering...wholeness, universal truth, God, so many names for that which does not need a name.
My awareness shifts to a welling up of gratitude for the opportunity of this journey, for having come this far. I can sit in the immediacy of this moment and appreciate the flowers on my desk and their sweet scent. Resting in the presence of this moment, time feels expansive and ever-present rather than like sand through my fingers.
Today, I will make an intentional choice to be with the herald in my hair rather than the harbinger. I will smile knowingly in the mirror and be glad for this season where choice feels possible.
Where are you choosing to hold onto fear or pain because it is easier? Where are you not allowing yourself to be at choice?
Jessica Curtis is a professional life coach who helps people cultivate intention and live from a place of meaning and authenticity. If you think you could benefit from working with Jessica or want to invite her to work with your group, reach out to start a conversation.
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