Midlife Transformation

I always imagined that by the time I hit 45, I’d have books in the world, so when that magic number came and went, and my manuscripts lay in boxes in the garage, I felt not only that I had failed, but also that I was a failure. This thought created chronic stomach problems, and I thought I was going to die. I resonated deeply with Indian poet, Tagore’s, words: “For years I have been stringing and unstringing my instrument while the song I have come to sing remains unsung.” I hated the idea of leaving this planet without accomplishing what I’d come here to do. But I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be doing. I thought I’d known. I’d thought I was supposed to write books. But since that dream hadn’t materialized, and since I knew I was a bright, capable person, I wondered if I should seek fulfillment elsewhere. I continued scribbling in my journal, but quit writing stories and poems, and addressed my most pressing concern: the pain in my stomach. Instead of taking prescription drugs, I radically changed my diet and became a raw vegan. 

​I then began yoga and meditation practices, found a spiritual community, and earned a degree in Spiritual Psychology from The University of Santa Monica. I learned there is no such thing as failure—only opportunities for growth, that our bodies are wise teachers, and symptoms, a call to action, not only on the physical level, but mentally and spiritually as well. I began, for the first time, to think of myself as a divine being having a human experience. Compassion came with this awareness, along with clarity. I knew I loved writing, and what I loved was my path, so I learned how to release judgments, look fear in the eye, and forgive myself for misunderstandings, such as believing I had failed. Releasing that thought, released me. Having the courage to engage in work I love—no matter what—is its own brand of success. What matters is what I think. What matters is faith, in myself and in the Universe, and in the understanding that my work is unfolding in divine right order. Life is not a contest or a race. It is not a proving ground or a school in which I’m being graded. But it is filled with lessons, so I keep showing up, pencil in hand.

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