In New England, fall is a time of transition from the warmth of summer to the chill of winter and it’s reflected in the foliage of trees that turn from green to shades of red, yellow, and brown before they fall from their branches. On our morning walk, I wear a sweater and go up the hill a bit more briskly, carrying a tissue not to wipe sweat off my brow but to wipe my nose and survey the changing landscape. Normally, this evokes sadness but I find myself accepting the changes and I am savoring the emergence of new colors and the greenery that is still here. It is a reminder of impermanence. . . and for the first time, in the years since my mother died in October many years ago, I am not falling into sadness as I see the leaves dry up and fall from the trees or complaining as I add another layer to my clothes.

What is different? Could it be that I, along with five other adults of varying ages and backgrounds had a B’nai Mitzvah, a coming-of-age ceremony? This ceremony is traditionally given to boys when they reach the age of 13 and it marks their full entry to Judaism and participate in all its rituals and obligations. I came of age when girls were exempt from this ceremony and I resented this. My brother had a big party after his bar mitzva and his achievement was celebrated. I wanted to be celebrated too. At the time this was just the way it was, but now at the age of 79 I had the opportunity to partake in the ritual. It was too late for my parents to be there but still time to have my own ceremony and feel a sense of pride and accomplishment in my own achievements. I realized this is what I really wanted, and was most important.

It takes courage to acknowledge old hurts and regrets and risk a new identity that is stronger, fuller and takes effort to move into which is what the ceremony helped me feel. It can be scary to say, yes, I am good enough and try something new when failure is possible. It’s also very freeing and was worth the effort.

As I age, I’m finding myself gaining perspective and softening, soothing, and allowing myself to make peace inside myself so old wounds, injustice, and regrets no longer bleed into the present. How wonderful that I had the opportunity to be a part of this ancient tradition and share it with others.I feel grateful.

There are few poems I’ve memorized. One is “The Breeze at Dawn “by Rumi, a 16th-century Persian poet and mystic. It’s a short, succinct poem
easy to memorize.

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don’t go back to sleep.

You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.

The door is round and open.
Don’t go back to sleep.

What do we really want? Really want!
We ask this in the first class of the Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction Program. The answer is usually peace or some version of “be happy” and we then discuss what is needed for this to come about..

I want to experience peace. I want to shake off old stories and examine their veracity with a fresh perspective. I want to be free to explore new opportunities, take chances and continue to be creative. I want to be able to deal with sorrow and not fall into despair. I want to be generous and kind, wise and understanding.

I want to be as John O’Donahue suggests, “live like a river flows carried by the surprise of its own unfolding.”

Who knows what will happen and what will be, but I don’t want to go back to sleep.

The Aging with Wisdom group meets this Thursday, October 6th at 11 AM, EDT.  I invite you to ask yourself the question raised in the blog "What do you really want?" more than one time and jot down what arises, which we will explore when we meet this Thursday. Here’s a link to register.

Take care, and may your adventure not be too wild but always interesting.

Warmly, Elana