Ch-ch-ch-changes: turn and face a new stage (at this age?)
Change is on the horizon. I don't know exactly what that means for me yet, but I feel it gathering, a subtle shift like the way light shifts and deepens as summer turns to fall.
At 54, change no longer feels like chaos or obligation. It feels like choice. A conscious decision to step away from the familiar and toward possibility.
I know what's possible because I've seen it in my life and in others’. My parents launched a real estate business together after thirty years in different careers. They started over, side by side, and made it work. Watching them taught me that pivots aren't reckless; they're essential. They showed me reinvention can be a direct path to vitality.
What's remarkable is that they did this while staying completely rooted in the same house, same community, same deep connections that had anchored our family for decades. They were always there, a constant in my childhood home, and part of me longs to offer that same gift to my own children. That kind of rootedness, that reliable presence they can always count on.
But I’m not sure that’s possible. I can feel myself being called toward other things. And the truth is, I've always thrived on novelty. I've worn countless hats throughout my career, and if money weren't a factor, I'd be a perpetual student. Learning, stretching, trying something entirely new. That's what fuels me. I embrace change.
But I've been so busy for the past eight years surviving the financial fallout of a failed store that I sometimes mistake that fervent busyness with a life. Survival isn't living, and when you're in constant motion, you forget what it feels like to actually thrive.
My life has always been comfortable. I'm never been happier than when I'm cooking in my own kitchen, running familiar trails, or feeling deeply rooted in this community I cherish. Those rhythms give me joy, belonging, and identity in ways that feel irreplaceable.
Here's what I'm wondering: How do you know when comfort has shifted from nourishing to numbing? When does the pleasure of routine become the prison of sameness? How to you confirm that you are turning toward and not turning away?
Comfort can become a beautiful trap. Stay here. You know this life. And then fear joins the chorus—that voice that isn't even real, that borrowed anxiety telling you all the ways you might fail. You're too old. Too settled. Too much to lose. I battle with these voices.
I've watched people in my life get seduced by this voice. They mistake paralysis for prudence, staying stuck not because they love where they are, but because they're afraid of where they might land.
Lately, the thought of change makes me wonder what else is possible?
Something I’ve realized: if you don't initiate and steer change, the change happen anyway, and it can leave you bitter. I've watched it unfold a bit for me right here in Yosemite, where the park has evolved in ways that don't always align with what longtime residents value. The concessions have pulled back on community-centered offerings: the ice rink, Badger Pass ski programs, the high camps. Over time, we've seen shifts toward different management priorities, fewer families choosing to make their lives here. Community organizations like Rotary, the Lions Club, and the Winter Club have faded. All threads that wove us together.
Of course, Yosemite will always be vibrant and extraordinary. The park will continue to inspire millions, and new forms of community will emerge. But this evolution leaves me longing for the version I fell in love with, and I've realized that navigating change means being honest that lately I sometimes don’t feel truly at home here.
Sameness feels like slow death. I want the richness my parents modeled, novelty woven through the comfort of home. I want to belong deeply while leaving space for possibility to breathe. As the world from the top down seems to devolve, I refuse to let external changes define my life.
I don't know what this next change will look like. But I know this: I was raised to pivot and wired to learn. That combination makes me trust that whatever comes next will be worth the effort.
____________________________________________________________
Websites & Online Resources
Next Avenue (nextavenue.org) – A PBS-backed site focusing on people over 50, with great articles on transitions, reinvention, and well-being.
The Transition Network (thetransitionnetwork.org) – A community for professional women 50+ navigating work/life changes.
Tiny Buddha (tinybuddha.com) – Stories and wisdom about mindfulness, letting go, and embracing change.
Well+Good (wellandgood.com) – Articles on wellness, lifestyle, and healthy aging.
Videos & Talks
TED Talks
The Art of Stillness – Pico Iyer (on pausing in times of change)
The Power of Vulnerability – Brené Brown
How to Make Hard Choices – Ruth Chang
The Gift and Power of Emotional Courage – Susan David
YouTube Series
OWN SuperSoul Conversations – Interviews with thought leaders about life transitions.
The School of Life – Short, philosophical takes on reinvention and change.
Books
Life Reimagined: The Science, Art, and Opportunity of Midlife – Barbara Bradley Hagerty
The Third Chapter: Passion, Risk, and Adventure in the 25 Years After 50 – Sara Lawrence-Lightfoot
Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life – Richard Rohr
When Things Fall Apart – Pema Chödrön
Option B: Facing Adversity, Building Resilience, and Finding Joy – Sheryl Sandberg & Adam Grant
Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes – William Bridges
Women Rowing North: Navigating Life’s Currents and Flourishing As We Age – Mary Pipher
The Blue Zones of Happiness – Dan Buettner
