When a conversation about mortality shifts from hypothetical to personal, our thinking can change. As someone close to me prepares to say goodbye to her mother, I find myself reconsidering my own feelings about MAID, the choices we make at the end of life, and how my work with older women might help them reclaim their sense of worth.

Courage is a word I keep coming back to as I grow older. It takes courage to face the uncertainty of the world, to follow what unfolds from within, and sometimes, to take the next step when fear is holding us back. And when courage feels scarce, Nana needs Happy Hour.

When getting together becomes another box to check, perhaps it is time to rethink how we build community. A Thanksgiving reflection on family, connection and our role as elders.

My plan to write 68 microblog posts before my birthday hasn't quite gone to plan. But perhaps there's a lesson in that. My life is full of family, work, home, and the everyday gifts I sometimes take for granted. This Thanksgiving, I'm reminding myself that gratitude is never late.

When was the last time you learned something new alongside other people? A candle-making workshop reminded me that learning together offers something YouTube can’t: shared discoveries, laughter, conversation, and a deeper sense of connection to community.

My dad has been showing up everywhere this week—in my dreams, in the glove compartment of my mother’s car, and unexpectedly in a stack of his favourite cookies. Is it coincidence, memory, or something more? Does it matter?

What if “aging well” has less to do with conquering our bodies and more to do with becoming more human at every age? A TikTok about the “aggressive pursuit of comfort” got me thinking about the subtle ways we turn fitness into a measure of moral worth—and aging into something we’re expected to defeat.

Every October, I switch my wardrobe from summer to fall. What began as a necessity in my small 1920s closet has become something I look forward to: a chance to rediscover my clothes and notice how much my relationship with clothing has changed.

A reunion with old friends becomes a reminder of what changes—and what doesn’t—as we move into our Third Age. The ease, honesty and history of long friendships are worth celebrating.

How do we know when something is right for us? As we enter the Third Age, the old scripts don't always fit anymore—and a pros-and-cons list can't answer every question. Discernment is something different: learning to pay attention to what is happening within us, to distinguish what is life-giving from what is not, and to listen for what is true for us now. Even choosing a pair of glasses can become a small lesson in learning to trust ourselves.

The Cornell 7 story sent me back into memories of being a young woman. I thought by now young women would be safer. I thought young men would make better choices. Instead, I find myself asking: what can I do as an older woman to help?

What if a word once used to diminish older women could become a word that reminds us not to diminish ourselves?

I love the word Crone precisely because it is provocative. For me, the Crone is a woman who has embraced aging, released the roles and expectations that no longer fit, and is learning to live from her own wisdom. She isn't trying to be a younger woman. She is becoming more fully herself.

Sometimes falling behind is exactly what happens when we say yes to life. A reminder that not everything needs to be caught up.

Boomers are often portrayed as a wealthy generation sitting comfortably on housing and investment gains. But a generation is not a person, and age doesn't tell you someone's financial story. The reality of aging in Canada is far more complicated.

We were women and we put up with a lot. At book club, a conversation about career and vocation opened the door to stories of workplace discrimination and sexual harassment—and a reflection on how much women of our generation endured, resisted, and ultimately changed.

James Hollis calls it “the feeling of rightness.” For me, paying attention to consolation and desolation has become a way of discerning whether my life is in alignment with what matters most.

Singing the Doxology brought me back to my Christian roots—and to how much my understanding of faith has changed. As I get older, I’m learning to trust my own spiritual discernment rather than looking for someone else’s endorsement of what is “Christian.”

A week on the road has reminded me of three gifts of this stage of life: friendships deepened by time, a greater willingness to listen to my body, and an increasing sense of contentment with life's small moments.