Like many people, particularly people in the Western Hemisphere, and especially women, I'm usually not super excited about getting old.
I'm particularly aware of sunspots on my hands, looser skin on my face, and as of recently, some aches and pains that need more care than I care to give it.
But as this is the week of Thanksgiving, I'm definitely grateful for getting older, because the alternative?
Yeah. Hard pass. Not my time.
I’m grateful for every year I get.
And the older I get, the more I realize something I genuinely didn’t see coming:
I actually like who I am now.
I like that I know things.
And I get to pass on what I’ve learned.
I get to look at the women coming behind me and hand them something we are rarely offered: honesty, clarity, wisdom, and zero shame.
That is a privilege I don’t take lightly.
A couple weeks ago I had dinner with an 18-year-old in my life who I adore. We somehow landed in a conversation about her newly discovered party life, the drinking, the hookups, the “I think it was great but also I don’t fully remember?” situations.
And out of nowhere, like, Spirit grabbed the mic, I heard myself say:
“The thing with sex is that you want it to be memorable, and you also want to be able to remember it. If the person you’re having sex with doesn’t know how to make it memorable? Teach them. If they’re unwilling or unable? Dump them. And you never want to be in a situation where you're not going to remember if it was actually memorable or not.
And listen, even I was like, “…damn, where did THAT come from?”
But it was true.
Because yeah, alcohol can be a great social lubricant. And sometimes it leads to other kinds of lubrication, and bless that. But there is a very clear line between “I’m relaxed and having fun” and “I left my body and now I’m piecing the night together like a crime scene.”
Presence matters.
Pleasure matters.
And remembering matters.
And aging has given me the gift of being able to say that out loud without flinching.
Here’s the part I’m actually grateful for:
I’ve lived enough life that a younger woman trusts me with her intimate stories. I’m grateful that I get to be the one who gets the late-night texts like:
“Okay, so I have a question…”
And she knows she’s going to get truth instead of shame.
That’s the part of aging that feels holy.
And no, I’m not into the pilgrim mythology of Thanksgiving. For years I literally fasted on this day just to be contrarian (and honestly? That tracks).
But today, I’m feeling a different kind of gratitude:
I’m grateful for life.
For this body that’s aging and aching and still doing its best for me.
For the younger women who sit with me and share their real stories without shame.
For the hours of lived experience I get to hand them like medicine.
For the privilege of being the woman someone chooses to trust.
I’m grateful that I’m old enough to have wisdom, and young enough to still use it.
For the wisdom that spills out of me when I least expect it.
Getting older isn’t cute every day.
But damn, it’s meaningful.
And I’m grateful I get to be here for all of it.
Courage, truth, and infinite love,
.
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I don’t believe in magic, but I know that it works!
Magic is not a belief system, it’s a practice that works. Don’t believe me? Come try it out. If it doesn’t work, you lose nothing. But if it does… your dream life is about to begin!
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“El poder está en la acción.”
— Maritza Schafer