I am so glad I snuck back in your feed to read this. It's so seasonally relatable up here in Southeast Alaska, and it was a cry I needed. One I was hiding from. Thank you.
I love reading your words & as usual, relate in so many ways. I do remember all your prior incarnations & thank you for the reminder that even plans formed decades ago are still ripe for the reawakening. You inspire me yet again. 🙏
“I’m learning to live with uncertainty and with accepting - really accepting - that life as a human animal is a miraculous gift that doesn’t last forever, and often the end is difficult. “
Oh Jo. I'm with you in quiet, mountain-deep, solidarity. Raising a cup of tea (or your libation of choice) to all edge-walking autumnal women. (P.S. So many parallels in my last year. It's been exhausting.)
How beautiful your writing is Jo. You may be ready for the magic and the medicine, but you're also one of those rare souls who embody and offer these elements so generously. Thankyou. xx
this is a lovely piece and I thank you for reminding me once again how transient life is and that it gets more so as we age (funny how that is). Learning to let go is a daily occurance for me and even though I prepped for aging by the time I reached my 30's (reading, reading) it is still a mystery.
You will be a wonderful autumn. You already are. Thank you again for reminding me of the potential joy of aging, because I was never going to be a summer sylph--not my style, yours either I suspect. We oldsters have a lot of living to do--don't count us out, ya know? Besides, there is that thing about the greater the sadness, the greater the joy,or how can we know one w/o the other. Depth, girl is what you are going for, the deepness is where the magic happens. My credo is live deep.
Thank you for your words Jo. They met me in unexpected ways. In reading your reflections, I found my own on a recent experience which had felt elusive. Witnessing you and honouring all the pieces and stories and anxieties and wild edges. With gratitude xx
I feel this very deeply, Jo...embracing this 'second half' of life. July marked two years since losing my dad. I still cry. I (too) have done the homeschool mom thing (I graduated my only child in June)...and on many days, my chest aches from anxiety. Looking forward to your return to this space. I'm glad to have found you so many months ago 'at your wild edges.' Happy to hear you are mending. ♡
I am so glad I snuck back in your feed to read this. It's so seasonally relatable up here in Southeast Alaska, and it was a cry I needed. One I was hiding from. Thank you.
Thank you for this beautiful post.
I love this time of my life (56). Through changes and loss, I feel I'm becoming more "me". It's very empowering to meet yourself.
I love reading your words & as usual, relate in so many ways. I do remember all your prior incarnations & thank you for the reminder that even plans formed decades ago are still ripe for the reawakening. You inspire me yet again. 🙏
So beautiful to read your words once again Jo, welcome back ✨
“I’m learning to live with uncertainty and with accepting - really accepting - that life as a human animal is a miraculous gift that doesn’t last forever, and often the end is difficult. “
Yes. Hang in there. 🙏
Oh Jo. I'm with you in quiet, mountain-deep, solidarity. Raising a cup of tea (or your libation of choice) to all edge-walking autumnal women. (P.S. So many parallels in my last year. It's been exhausting.)
How beautiful your writing is Jo. You may be ready for the magic and the medicine, but you're also one of those rare souls who embody and offer these elements so generously. Thankyou. xx
Thank you for your tenderness.
There any many ways in which I connect with your story and find your strength inspiring.
Thank you.
this is a lovely piece and I thank you for reminding me once again how transient life is and that it gets more so as we age (funny how that is). Learning to let go is a daily occurance for me and even though I prepped for aging by the time I reached my 30's (reading, reading) it is still a mystery.
You will be a wonderful autumn. You already are. Thank you again for reminding me of the potential joy of aging, because I was never going to be a summer sylph--not my style, yours either I suspect. We oldsters have a lot of living to do--don't count us out, ya know? Besides, there is that thing about the greater the sadness, the greater the joy,or how can we know one w/o the other. Depth, girl is what you are going for, the deepness is where the magic happens. My credo is live deep.
It's been a particularly brutal equinoctial change this year, I think. Possibly because summer was a bit stingy with us, apart from that last hurrah.
Maybe that is particularly appropriate for a transition such as yours? You have certainly had a turbulent year x
Thank you for your realness here, Jo. This hits so many tender points for me. ❤️
Thank you for your words Jo. They met me in unexpected ways. In reading your reflections, I found my own on a recent experience which had felt elusive. Witnessing you and honouring all the pieces and stories and anxieties and wild edges. With gratitude xx
This is so eloquent and a poignant guide towards finding one’s own self in this new chapter. Like you I’d like to arrive with my cup half full xx
I feel this very deeply, Jo...embracing this 'second half' of life. July marked two years since losing my dad. I still cry. I (too) have done the homeschool mom thing (I graduated my only child in June)...and on many days, my chest aches from anxiety. Looking forward to your return to this space. I'm glad to have found you so many months ago 'at your wild edges.' Happy to hear you are mending. ♡
I love you. I miss you. I'm walking (silently, invisibly but THERE) beside you xo