THE	AGE	OF
MIRACLES
A
LSO
	
BY
	M
ARIANNE
	W
ILLIAMSON
A	Return	to	Love
A	Woman’s	Worth
Illuminata
Emma	&	Mommy	Talk	to	God
Healing	the	Soul	of	America
Illuminated	Prayers
Enchanted	Love
Everyday	Grace
The	Gift	of	Change
A	Year	of	Daily	Wisdom	Perpetual	Flip	Calendar
*
Miracle	Cards
*
*Available	from	Hay	House
Please	visit	Hay	House	USA:	
www.hayhouse.com
®
Hay	House	Australia:	
www.hayhouse.com.au
Hay	House	UK:	
www.hayhouse.co.uk
Hay	House	South	Africa:	
www.hayhouse.co.za
Hay	House	India:	
www.hayhouse.co.inTHE	AGE	OF
MIRACLES
E
MBRACING	THE
N
EW	
M
IDLIFE
MARIANNE
WILLIAMSON
Hay	House,	Inc.
Carlsbad,	California	•	New	York	City
London	•	Sydney	•	Johannesburg
Vancouver	•	Hong	Kong	•	New	DelhiCopyright	©	2008	by	Marianne	Williamson
Published	and	distributed	in	the	United	States	by:
	Hay	House,	Inc.:	
www.hayhouse.com
	•	
Published
and	distributed	in	Australia	by:
	Hay	House	Australia	Pty. Ltd.:	
www.hayhouse.com.au
	•	
Published
and	distributed	in	the	United	Kingdom	by:
	Hay	House	UK,	Ltd.:	
www.hayhouse.co.uk
	•	
Published
and	distributed	in	the	Republic	of	South	Africa	by:
	Hay	House	SA	(Pty),	Ltd.:	
www.hayhouse.co.za
•	
Distributed	in	Canada	by:
	Raincoast:	
www.raincoast.com
	•	
Published	in	India	by:
	Hay	House
Publishers	India:	
www.hayhouse.co.in
Editorial	supervision:
	Jill	Kramer	•
	Design:
	Jenny	Richards
Lyrics	from	“Nick	of	Time”	used	by	permission	of	Bonnie	Raitt,	Kokomo	Music,	Inc.,	ASCAP. Excerpt	from	Jung,	C.	G.,	
Collected	Works	of	C.	G.	Jung,
	Vol. 8. Reprinted	by	permission	of
Princeton	University	Press. Excerpt	from	“Little	Gidding”	in	
Four	Quartets,	
©	1942	by	T.	S.	Eliot	and	renewed	in	1970	by	Esme
Valerie	Eliot. Reprinted	by	permission	of	Harcourt,	Inc.
All	rights	reserved. No	part	of	this	book	may	be	reproduced	by	any	mechanical,	photographic,	or
electronic	process,	or	in	the	form	of	a	phonographic	recording;	nor	may	it	be	stored	in	a	retrieval
system,	transmitted,	or	otherwise	be	copied	for	public	or	private	use—other	than	for	“fair	use”	as	brief
quotations	embodied	in	articles	and	reviews—without	prior	written	permission	of	the	publisher. The	author	of	this	book	does	not	dispense	medical	advice	or	prescribe	the	use	of	any	technique	as	a
form	of	treatment	for	physical,	emotional,	or	medical	problems	without	the	advice	of	a	physician,	either
directly	or	indirectly. The	intent	of	the	author	is	only	to	offer	information	of	a	general	nature	to	help	you
in	your	quest	for	emotional	and	spiritual	well-being. In	the	event	you	use	any	of	the	information	in	this
book	for	yourself,	which	is	your	constitutional	right,	the	author	and	the	publisher	assume	no
responsibility	for	your	actions. Library	of	Congress	Cataloging-in-Publication	Data
Williamson,	Marianne. The	age	of	miracles	:	embracing	the	new	midlife	/	Marianne	Williamson. --	1st	ed. p.	cm. ISBN	978-1-4019-1719-7	(hardcover)
1. Middle	age--Psychological	aspects. 2. Middle-aged	persons--Conduct	of	life. I. Title. HQ1059.4.W57	2008
155.6’6--dc22																																																																																											2007034606
Hardcover	ISBN:
	978-1-4019-1719-7
Tradepaper	ISBN:
	978-1-4019-1720-3
11	10	09	08	4	3	2	1
1st	edition,	January	2008
Printed	in	the	United	States	of	AmericaFor	my	daughter,
whom	I	beyond	adoreContents
Introduction
Chapter	1:	The	Long	and	Winding	Road
Chapter	2:	Do	You	Believe	in	Magic? Chapter	3:	The	Nick	of	Time
Chapter	4:	God	Only	Knows
Chapter	5:	The	Way	She’d	Act	and	the	Color	of	Her	Hair
Chapter	6:	I	Will	Survive
Chapter	7:	In	the	Midnight	Hour
Chapter	8:	Abraham,	Martin,	and	John
Chapter	9:	We	Are	the	World
Acknowledgments
About	the	Author[T]horoughly	unprepared	we	take	the	step	into	the	afternoon	of	life;	worse
still,	we	take	this	step	with	the	false	assumption	that	our	truths	and	ideals	will
serve	us	as	hitherto. But	we	cannot	live	the	afternoon	of	life	according	to	the
programme	of	life’s	morning;	for	what	was	great	in	the	morning	will	be	little
at	evening,	and	what	in	the	morning	was	true	will	at	evening	have	become	a
lie. —	Carl	Jung,	
Stages	of	LifeI
NTRODUCTION
W
rinkles. Memory	gaps. Can’t	remember	what	you	did	yesterday. Found
your	glasses	in	the	refrigerator. The	skin	on	your	thighs	is	uneven. Your	butt
is	too	soft. Younger	people	call	you	“ma’am”	(or	“sir”). You	used	to	be	able
to	juggle	so	many	more	balls	in	the	air. You	don’t	know	that	face	in	the	mirror
anymore. You’re	jealous	of	younger	people. You	can’t	believe	you	didn’t
appreciate	it	when	you	had	it. You	feel	invisible. You	haven’t	a	clue	who’s
making	music	now. You	used	to	be	hip,	but	apparently	not	anymore…	. If	any	of	this	sounds	familiar,	then	welcome	to	the	territory. Perhaps	you
could	use	a	fresh	layer	of	insight	to	help	you	navigate	some	shifting	ground. Every	new	experience	confronts	you	with	a	choice,	and	aging	is	no
exception. How	the	era	of	“no	longer	young”	unfolds	for	you—how	you’ll
inhabit	the	space	of	midlife	and	beyond—is	an	open	question	that	only	you
can	answer. If	you	choose	the	path	of	least	resistance—nonresistance	not	in	a
Taoist	way	but	in	a	lazy	way—then	gravity	will	overwhelm	you. You’ll	grow
old	with	little	grace	or	joy. But	if	you	claim	for	yourself	another	possibility,	you’ll	open	the	door
something	decidedly	new. Considering	the	possibility	that	there	might	be
another	way,	you’ll	make	room	for	a	miracle. You’ll	pave	another	pathway,
build	new	synapses	in	your	brain,	and	physically	and	spiritually	welcome	new
energies	that	would	otherwise	not	find	in	you	a	receptive	home. Millions	of	us	are	entering	a	room	we	would	have	liked	to	avoid	yet	can
avoid	no	longer. Yet	if	we	take	a	good	look,	we	realize	the	room	doesn’t	have
to	be	so	bad	…	perhaps	it	just	needs	a	redesign. And	then	it	will	be	in	many
ways	a	new	room. Midlife	is	not	new	territory,	obviously,	but	what	
is
	new	is	how	many	of	us
are	reaching	for	something	outside	its	culturally	prescribed	norms. According
to	Werner	Erhard,	founder	of	the	
est
	organization,	we	can	live	our	lives	either
acting	out	of	circumstances	or	acting	out	of	a	vision. And	when	it	comes	to
midlife,	we	can	forge	a	new	vision,	a	new	conversation,	to	take	us	beyond	the
limited	thought-forms	that	have	defined	its	parameters	for	generations. The
circumstances	are	fixed,	but	our	experience	of	them	is	not. Everyq
Introduction
	situation	is	experienced	within	the	context	of	the	conversation
surrounding	it,	both	in	our	heads	and	in	our	culture. And	out	of	a	new
conversation	about	the	meaning	of	midlife	emerges	new	hope	for	those	of	us
who	find	ourselves	there. When	I	say	hope,	do	I	mean	the	hope	of	more	years? Not	necessarily. Do	I
mean	the	hope	of	more	fun,	more	meaning,	more	passion,	more
enlightenment? Absolutely. Hope,	when	it	comes	to	age,	is	not	just	that	the
years	get	longer	but	that	they	get	
better. Recently	I	sat	next	to	an	aging	movie
star	at	a	wedding	reception. Now	in	his	80s,	he	told	me	with	manly	conviction
that	when	his	time	came,	he	would	“go	willingly,	and	get	on	to	the	next
adventure.”	He	seemed	okay	with	whatever	happens	next	because	he	is	okay
with	whatever	happens,	period. He	seemed	connected	to	some	flow	of	life
that’s	too	real	to	ever	stop,	that	wouldn’t	dare	shut	down	at	the	point	of	his
death. I	saw	him	half	an	hour	later,	dancing	like	Valentino	with	a	woman	50	years
younger	than	himself. Back	at	the	table,	I	heard	him	rail	against	the
government	like	a	resplendent	Titan	who	didn’t	give	a	damn	if	what	he	said
was	popular	or	not. It	didn’t	seem	like	he	had	reached	the	end	of	his	life	so
much	as	its	peak. And	at	this	peak,	he	could	see	that	what	stretched	out	before
him	was	just	a	new	piece	of	land,	no	less	real	than	the	territory	behind	him. How	would	we	live	were	we	not	afraid	of	death? How	would	we	live	if	we
felt	full	permission	from	ourselves	and	others	to	give	to	life	everything	we’ve
got? Would	midlife	be	time	to	shut	down,	or	time	to	finally	get	started? Would
it	be	time	to	give	up,	or	time	to	claim	what	we	really	want? Would	it	be	time
to	just	hang	out,	or	time	to	stop	messing	around? If	we	wish	to	age	on
autopilot,	as	a	preprescribed	and	prepackaged	experience,	then	it’s	certainly
not	difficult—the	status	quo	has	signposts	everywhere. But	if	we	want	to
create	something	new	for	ourselves	and	those	around	us,	then	it’s	important	to
recognize	how	limited	and	limiting	are	the	thoughts	about	midlife	that	still
saturate	our	culture. And	to	realize	that	we	can	let	them	go. Many	of	our	thoughts	about	midlife	are	outdated. They	are	hand-me-down
notions	from	preceding	generations	that	no	longer	fit	who	we	are	or	what
we’re	doing	here. I	recently	met	a	woman	who	was	a	political	icon	in	the	’70s	and	’80s. When	I	asked	her	if	she	wanted	to	get	back	into	the	political	fray,	she	looked
at	me	and	said,	“Oh	no,	I’m	66.”	She	pointed	to	a	table	of	young	womenbehind	us,	saying,	“Let	them	take	over	now.”
I	looked	at	her,	horrified. The	women	at	the	table	behind	us	were	
not
	the
ones	I	could	see	steering	the	world	in	a	more	positive	direction	any	time	soon,
and	I	knew	that	in	her	heart,	she	couldn’t	either. “Them? Are	you	
crazy? ”	I	gasped,	pointing	to	the	table	of	hotties	behind
us,	trying	unsuccessfully	to	scan	their	faces	for	any	sign	of	seriousness. And
as	I	said	that,	I	saw	her	eyes	light	up. Perhaps	she	just	needed	someone	to
give	her	permission	to	admit	what	she	was	q
Introduction
	already	thinking:
She’s	actually	more	ready	now	than	ever. She’s
	someone	who’s	got	what	it
takes. As	she	left	the	table,	she	told	me,	“You’re	right. Let’s	talk	sometime. I	want
to	do	something	
radical. ”
One	shift	in	perception	was	all	she	had	needed. Someone	simply	doubting
the	notion	that	her	best	days	were	behind	her	sent	her	running	from	a	resigned
and	timid	“It’s	
their
	turn	now,”	to	a	more	emotionally	honest	“It’s	
my
	turn
now!”	And	in	our	hearts,	many	of	us	feel	as	she	does:	that	we’re	finally	ready
to	do	something	radical! Whatever	it	is	we’re	here	for,	we’re	itching	to	do	it
now. But	sometimes	you’re	not	sure	you	know	what	“it”	is. And	even	if	you	do,
you	might	secretly	fear	it’s	too	late. You’re	caught	between	the	excited	feeling
that	you’re	ready	to	begin	and	the	scary	thought	that	you	might	be	past	your
prime. Yet	the	weight	of	God’s	hand	supersedes	the	weight	of	your	personal
history. God	works	miracles	anytime,	anywhere,	for	anyone;	the	last	thing
that	could	slow	Him	down	is	the	fact	that	you’re	older	than	you	used	to	be. Time	seems,	when	we’re	younger,	to	move	so	slowly. Then	all	of	a	sudden
it	seems	to	have	gone	by	so	fast. Tragic	time	delays	dot	the	landscape,	from
women	who	didn’t	realize	they	wanted	children	until	their	ovaries	were	too
old	for	it	to	people	stuck	in	careers	they	hate	because	for	years	they	didn’t
have	the	courage	to	go	for	what	they	really	wanted. That’s	why	it’s	so
important	that	we	not	buy	in	to	the	notion	that	once	we’ve	reached	midlife,
our	options	are	limited. Life	will	be,	at	any	point,	exactly	what	we	program	it
to	be. Yesterday	does	not	have	the	power	to	determine	our	today. Every
situation	is	a	challenge	to	rise	to	the	occasion—or,	to	put	it	more	accurately,
to	allow	God	to	
lift
	us	to	the	occasion—and	midlife	is	no	exception. God	is
always	ready	to	turn	water	into	wine. Whomever	it	is	you	were	born	to	be,	whatever	your	soul	was	coded	to
accomplish,	whatever	lessons	you	were	born	to	learn,	now	is	the	time	to	getserious	and	get	going. The	more	seriously	you	take	life,	the	more	seriously
life	will	seem	to	take	you. It	is	your	thoughts,	and	your	thoughts	alone,	that
determine	what’s	possible	for	you	now. It’s	time	to	proactively	reach	beyond
any	predetermined	formulas	you	or	anyone	else	might	have	for	what’s
“possible”	at	this	time	in	your	life. No	matter	what	did	or	did	not	happen	in
your	past,	the	present	remains	an	endless	fount	of	miraculous	opportunities—
the	law	of	divine	compensation	guarantees	that. “Endless	possibility”	is	not
just	an	abstraction;	it	is	a	yearning	of	the	universe,	an	active	force	of	constant
and	infinite	elasticity. It	responds	not	to	your	past,	but	to	your	present	state	of
mind. It’s	not	what’s	happened	in	your	life	so	far	that	has	the	power	to	determine
your	future. It’s	how	you	interpret	what’s	happened,	and	learn	from	what’s
happened,	that	sets	the	course	for	your	probable	tomorrows. Life	doesn’t	always	(or	even	usually)	move	in	a	consistently	rising	arc	of
progress. By	the	time	we’re	in	our	40s,	most	of	us	have	stumbled	in	at	least
one	or	
Introduction
	two	major	areas:	marriage	or	divorce,	problems	with	kids,
career,	finances,	addiction,	or	whatever. But	the	point	of	a	life	journey	isn’t
whether	or	not	we’ve	fallen	down;	it’s	whether	or	not	we’ve	learned	how	to
get	back	up. Everyone
	falls	because	it’s	a	fallen	world. It’s	who	gets	up,	and
how	they	do	it,	that	determines	what	happens	next. I	have	a	friend	who	is	a	fantastic	singer,	wowing	audiences	with	her	voice
for	years. She’s	also	gorgeous	to	look	at. Everyone	has	always	said	she	was
destined	for	stardom. But	did	she	get	her	big	break	at	20,	30,	or	even	40? No,
because	like	many	of	us,	her	demons	held	her	back	for	years. She	would	miss
a	big	meeting	because	she	was	hungover,	or	say	the	wrong	thing	to	a	record
executive	because	her	style	was	immature. She	consistently	sabotaged	her
own	success. It	wasn’t	until	after	her	40th	birthday	that	all	the	pieces	came
together,	her	talent	and	personality	aligned	at	last. And	what	she	could	see
once	that	happened—what	everyone	around	her	could	see—was	that	the	long
and	winding	journey	she	had	taken	only	added	to	the	luminosity	of	her
success,	once	it	came. What	do	I	mean	by	the	“luminosity”	of	her	success? I	mean	the	layers	of
understanding	that	went	into	it:	the	large	and	small	lessons	learned	along	the
way	that	ultimately	affected	not	only	her	singing	but	her	way	of	being	in	the
world,	a	new	essence	not	only	to	what	she	does	but	to	who	she	is. It	wasn’t
just	her	voice	but	her	personality	that	had	needed	to	ripen. Sometimes	you	can’t	lift	your	legs	as	high	in	aerobics	class	anymore,	but
you	can	lift	a	knowing	eyebrow	in	a	way	that	comes	only	with	years	ofexperience. In	a	way,	that	eyebrow	is	more	impressive	than	the	leg	lift. That’s
what	maturity	offers:	a	new	richness	to	your	personality. An	understanding
that	could	only	have	come,	as	my	father	used	to	say,	when	you’ve	had	to
“take	the	good	with	the	bad.”
The	new	maturity	is	optimistic—not	the	unknowing	optimism	of	our	youth,
when	all	things	seemed	possible,	but	rather	a	bittersweet-yet-knowing
optimism,	held	to	in	spite	of	the	fact	that	we	now	know	certain	things	are	
not
any	longer	possible. We’ve	lost	some	things	we	would	have	rather	not	lost,
but	we’ve	made	some	gains	we	didn’t	even	know	existed. We’ve	“been	there,
done	that”	in	enough	areas	to	feel	we’ve	achieved	some	mastery,	not	so	much
at	this	or	that,	but	at	living	a	more	responsible	life. Looking	at	my	peers,	I’ve
concluded	that	many	of	them	are	secretly	thinking	the	same	thing. Once
we’ve	accepted	that	life	is	not	as	fabulous	in	some	of	the	ways	we	thought	it
was,	we	realize	it’s	even	more	fabulous	in	ways	we	could	never	have	known. It’s	not	that	you’re	deluding	yourself,	refusing	to	gracefully	accept	that
your	youth	is	over. You	accept	the	limits	of	age,	but	you	accept	the
limitlessness	of	God	as	well. Something	has	ended,	it’s	true,	but	something
new	has	also	begun. Your	youth	has	not	been	ended	so	much	as	your
prolonged
	youth	has	been	interrupted—not	as	some	bum	deal	that	comes	at
the	end	q
Introduction
	of	the	party,	but	as	your	salvation	from	ultimate
meaninglessness,	your	one	last	chance	to	get	it	right. The	generation	now
experiencing	midlife	cannot	stand	the	thought	that	this	was	all	for	nothing. Dysfunctional,	obsolete	patterns	of	thought	that	blocked	the	pathway	to	your
higher	destiny	are	being	interrupted	at	last. And	while	you	might	be	feeling	a
bit	depressed	that	you’re	no	longer	young,	you’re	ecstatic	that	you’re	no
longer	clueless. A
T	JUST	ABOUT	THE	TIME	WHEN	THE	WORLD
	seems	about	to	literally	blow	up	if	some
sane	grown-up	doesn’t	come	in	here	and	do	something	quick,	our	generation
is	finally	becoming	sane	grown-ups. The	state	of	the	world	today	is	one	big	rite	of	passage	for	the	baby-boomer
generation,	like	a	trip	into	the	jungle	alone	to	see	whether	or	not	we	can
survive. If	we	don’t,	then	obviously	we	don’t	have	what	it	takes. If	we	do,
then	“You’re	a	man,	my	son!”	Well,	that’s	the	line	for	half	of	us	anyway. Midlife	today	is	a	second	puberty	of	sorts. The	experience,	including	its
length,	is	being	redefined. It	is	a	period	distinctly	unlike	youth,	yet	distinctly
unlike	old	age. It	doesn’t	feel	like	a	cruise	to	the	end	of	our	lives	so	much	as	a
cruise,	at	last,	to	the	
meaning
	of	our	lives. People	who	were	still	whining	“Idon’t	know	what	I	want	to	do	with	my	life	”at	the	age	of	40	suddenly	feel	as
if	they	know. It	feels	more	like	being	a	teen	than	like	being	old. In	her	book	
The	Longevity	Factor,
	Lydia	Bronte	writes	that	we’ve	added	15
years	to	our	lives	…	but	in	the	middle,	not	at	the	end. We	should	name	and
claim	this	period	as	a	new	midlife,	for	indeed	it	
is
	new. This	period	was	not
acknowledged	before	because	it	wasn’t	
there
	in	quite	the	way	it	is	now. As	we
acknowledge	the	existence	of	this	new	psychological	factor	in	the	makeup	of
contemporary	life,	we	build	a	container	for	otherwise	dispersed,	inchoate	yet
remarkable	energies. We	can	bless	and	transform	the	midlife	experience. We	do	this	by	changing
our	
thoughts
	about	it—thoughts	that	inform	our	physical	cells	and	constitute
the	blueprint	for	our	worldly	experience. The	work	is	to	do	two	things:	drop
our	limited	thoughts,	and	accept	unlimited	ones	instead. Our	thoughts	are
reflected	in	our	experience,	from	the	state	of	our	bodies	to	the	state	of	our
world. As	we	reprogram	our	thoughts,	we	reprogram	everything. For	women,	it’s	become	common	to	say	that	40	is	the	new	30	and	50	is	the
new	40. I’ve	asked	myself	if	we	just	want	to	believe	that	or	if	it’s	actually
true. Conveniently	for	me,	I’ve	decided	on	the	latter. But	it’s	a	double-edged
sword,	if	you	think	about	it:	On	the	one	hand,	it’s	an	acknowledgment	that
we’re	looking	so	much	better	for	longer;	on	the	other	hand,	it’s	also	an
acknowledgment	of	how	long	it’s	taken	us	to	finally	grow	up. What
generations	before	us	seemed	to	figure	out	much	sooner,	we’ve	taken	years	to
even	begin	to	understand. Those	of	us	now	maturing	into	midlife	and	beyond	will	not	be	called	a	“lost
generation,”	but	we	
will
	be	considered	a	generation	that	had	to	lose	a	decade
or	two	in	order	to	find	ourselves. In	the	end,	we	weren’t	so	much	wasting	time
as	we	were	working	through	issues	that	previous	generations	hadn’t	had	to
work	through. We	took	longer	because	on	a	psychic	level,	we	had	a	lot	more
to	do. Don’t	worry	if	you	feel	like	you’re	over	the	hill	now. The	landscape	is
different. We	are	removing	the	hill. Visiting	a	childhood	friend	of	mine,	I	saw	a	photograph	of	her	from	20
years	ago. The	difference	was	dramatic,	as	she’d	physically	transformed	from
radiant	youth	to	a	more	reserved	middle	age,	and	her	face	now	seemed	to	say,
“I’ve	given	up.”	Yet	I	knew	the	spark	of	her	youth	wasn’t	gone;	I	could	still
feel	the	fire	she’d	had	all	her	life. “That’s	Linda,”	I	told	her,	pointing	at	the
picture. “I	think	you	should	bring	her	back.”	And	I	could	tell	from	her	eyesthat	she	knew	what	I	meant. We	know,	at	least	intellectually,	that	we	don’t	have	to	sink	into	dowdiness
or	resignation	at	midlife. Youth	can	give	way	to	something	else,	something
equally	spectacular,	as	we	are	called	into	the	next	phase	of	our	existence. We
can	consciously	lay	claim	to	a	more	glorious	mid-and-later	life	experience
than	we	might	otherwise	have	had	the	audacity	to	imagine. We	can	release	the	weight	of	unprocessed	pain	and	embrace	the
lightheartedness	of	a	wiser	and	more	humble	heart. We	can	see	this	not	as	an
end-time	but	as	a	new-time. We	can	embrace	the	fact	that	in	God	there	
is
	no
time. The	new	midlife	is	a	call	of	the	soul. My	biggest	sorrow,	when	looking	back	on	my	youth,	is	how	much	of	it	I
somehow	missed. Now,	looking	at	my	life	today,	I	don’t	want	to	make	the
same	mistake. I	don’t	want	to	miss	this. As	Bonnie	Raitt	sang	like	she	was
singing	it	for	all	of	us,	“Life	gets	mighty	precious	when	there’s	less	of	it	to
waste.”
My	youth	was	full	of	so	many	miracles	that	I	simply	couldn’t	see	at	the
time. But	whenever	I’m	tempted	to	dwell	on	the	ways	I	failed	to	embrace	my
good	while	young,	I	am	reminded	that	the	Author	of	my	good	has	not	run	out
of	miracles. That
	we	age,	if	we	are	lucky	enough	to	do	it,	is	a	given. How
	we	age	is	up
to	us. The	purpose	of	this	book	is	to	take	a	few	of	its	issues	and	look	them
squarely	in	the	eye,	put	love	into	some	of	its	more	fearful	places,	and
experience	miracles	we	might	otherwise	have	missed. Author’s	note:
	Throughout	this	book,	I	quote	extensively	from	
A	Course
in	Miracles. The	
Course
	is	a	self-study	program	of	spiritual	psychotherapy
contained	in	three	books. It	is	not	a	religion,	but	rather,	a	psychological	mind-
training	based	on	universal	spiritual	themes. The	practical	goal	of	the	
Course
is	the	attainment	of	inner	peace	through	the	practice	of	forgiveness.Chapter	One
T
HE	
L
ONG	AND
W
INDING	
R
OAD
O
ne	day	I	received	a	couple	of	videotapes	in	the	mail,	containing	footage	of
some	lectures	I’d	given	in	1988. I	told	my	daughter	I	wanted	her	to	watch
them	with	me,	to	see	what	her	mother	looked	and	sounded	like	two	years
before	she	was	born. I	thought	I	was	doing	this	for	her,	but	soon	I	realized	I
was	doing	it	for	me. As	she	watched,	she	was	mesmerized	by	the	image	of	her
mom	not	yet	weighed	down	by	years	of	sorrow,	still	light	and	breezy	in	both
body	and	spirit. And	I	was	sort	of	mesmerized	myself. A	younger	man	I	know	once	said	to	me,	“I	wish	I	could	have	known	you
when	you	were	young,”	then	tried	to	redeem	himself	(once	he	saw	me	wince)
by	saying	something	about	how	he	would	have	liked	to	have	known	me	when
I	had	all	that	fire. I	thought	to	myself,	but	did	not	say,	
I	still	have	all	that	fire. What	I	saw	looking	at	those	videotapes	was	the	fire	he	referred	to,	yes,	but	I
saw	something	else	as	well. I	saw	a	fire	I	needed	to	reclaim	for	myself,	a	fire
that	the	world	had	dampened	but	was	still	mine	if	I	wanted	it—true,	it	was	no
longer	flaring	to	the	surface,	but	it	wasn’t	really	gone	either. It	was	simply
buried	beneath	layers	of	accumulated	burdens	and	disappointments. The	fire
itself	emerged	from	an	ageless	place. Watching	the	tapes	of	my	lectures,	I	was	surprised	to	see	my	daughter	so
surprised. I	hadn’t	realized	that	she	didn’t	see	her	mother	as	a	lighthearted
woman,	full	of	easy	jokes	as	well	as	wisdom. I	saw	then	that	I’d	become
someone	I	didn’t	really	have	to	be—I	had	descended	into	the	dark	psychic
waters	of	a	few	rough	years	and	had	simply	fallen	for	the	lies	I’d	heard	there. What	happened	to	me	is	what	happens	to	many	of	us,	in	one	way	or
another. Age	can	hit	you	like	a	truck,	knocking	the	wind	of	your	youth	right
out	of	you. For	years	you	move	around	in	reaction,	seemingly	defined	more
by	what	you	aren’t	anymore	than	by	what	you	are	now. Yet	slowly	but	surely,
you	morph	into	the	next	phase	of	your	life—different,	but	not	necessarily	less
than	as	opposed	to	more. The	less	or	more	part	is	up	to	you.I	remember	buying	a	CD	by	Joni	Mitchell	a	few	years	ago. The	cover	art	is
a	self-portrait	of	her	holding	a	glass	of	red	wine:	I	sat	looking	at	the	picture
for	several	minutes	before	putting	on	the	music. And	when	I	did,	I	was
appalled. Nothing	seemed	to	sound	the	same;	I	didn’t	hear	the	Joni	I	thought	I
knew. Oh	my	God,
	I	thought,	
she’s	lost	her	voice! The	high,	sweet	quality	was
gone. I,	who	had	listened	to	Joni	Mitchell	for	decades,	didn’t	recognize	the
sound	I	heard	now. For	at	least	five	minutes	I	went	on	and	on	in	my	head
about	how	Joni	Mitchell	couldn’t	sing	anymore. Then	I	started	to	really	listen,	only	to	realize	of	course	that	the	voice	that
was	no	longer	there	could	not	compete	in	magnificence	with	the	one	that	had
taken	its	place. Her	voice	revealed	a	new	depth	now,	a	longing	that	the	voice
of	her	younger	self	didn’t	have. Somewhere	between	her	soul	and	her	throat,
her	past	and	her	present,	good	pop	tunes	had	alchemized	into	high	art. Light
and	bright	melodies	had	become	deep,	stark,	soulful	cries	from	the	center	of
things. She’d	moved	into	a	place	of	power	that	is	anything	but	
less	than. Someone	already	a	giant	seemed	to	have	turned	into	a	goddess. Her	path—and	her	changes—are	meaningful	to	me,	given	my	own
experience. Having	begun	lecturing	over	20	years	ago,	people	sometimes	tell
me	that	they	wish	I	would	lecture	“like	in	the	old	days.”	And	I	know	what
they	mean. I	was	flip. I	was	funny. I	was	telling	it	like	it	is. But	it	was	the
’80s,
	for	God’s	sake! It’s	easy	enough	to	be	light	and	breezy	when	you’ve
never	seen	anything	but	light	and	never	felt	anything	but	breeze. Later,	when
that’s	no	longer	true—when	decades	more	have	been	added	to	your	personal
repertoire	of	both	pain	and	pleasure—your	voice	cannot	
not
	change. The
question	is,	will	you	then	lose	your	true	voice	or	find	it? Seasons	change,	but	all	of	them	are	spectacular. Winter	is	as	beautiful	as
summer,	in	nature	and	in	us. We	needn’t	be	less	compelling	with	age;	we’re
simply	compelling	in	a	different	way. Being	where	we	
are,
	with	neither
shame	nor	apology,	is	what	matters	most. The	beauty	of	personal	authenticity
can	compensate	for	the	lost	beauty	of	our	youth. My	arms	aren’t	as	shapely	as
they	used	to	be,	but	I	know	so	much	more	now	about	what	I	should	be	doing
with	them. W
HEN	I	WAS	IN	MY	20s	I	WAS	ERY	INTO	“YES”
:	Yes,	I	will	go	here;	yes,	I	will	do	that. But
as	I	got	older,	I	got	used	to	saying	“no”:	No,	I	can’t	do	that	because	my
daughter	is	at	home	and	I	have	to	get	back	to	her;	no,	I	can’t	go	there	because
I	don’t	have	the	time. It	seems	that	I	stopped	thinking	about	why	I	was	saying
it	and	just	got	into	“no”	as	a	kind	of	automatic	response	to	anything	outsidemy	comfort	zone. And	my	comfort	zone	began	to	shrink. Finally	I	realized
that	at	a	certain	age,	too	much	“no”	becomes	poisonous. If	we’re	not	careful,
we	start	to	say	“no”	to	life	itself. And	it’s	the	“no”	that	ages	us. The	responsibilities	of	a	mature	life	often	force	us	to	focus	on	things	that
are	immediately	in	front	of	us,	and	in	that	sense,	
“settling	down”	can	be	a
good	thing. But	such	focus	doesn’t	have	to	translate	into	a	constricted	state	of
mind. No	one	can	age	well	who	lets	go	of	their	sense	of	wonder. You	might
find	yourself	thinking	things	like,	
Oh,	that	museum. Been	there,	done	that. But	if	you	make	the	visit	anyway,	you’ll	realize	that	what	you	saw	at	the
museum	in	your	younger	years	was	only	a	fraction	of	what	your	eyes	can	see
now. If	you	don’t	exercise	your	body,	then	your	muscles	begin	to	constrict. And
if	you	don’t	exercise	your	mind,	then	your	attitudes	begin	to	constrict. And	nothing	constricts	your	life	experience	like	the	constriction	of	your
thoughts. It	limits	your	possibilities,	and	it	limits	your	joy. All	of	us	have	seen	people	who’ve	aged	with	sorrow;	we’ve	seen	others	as
well	who’ve	aged	with	joy. It’s	time	to	
intend
	to	age	with	joy,	deciding	that
the	joy	of	youth	is	a	good	kind	of	joy,	but	it’s	not	the	only	kind. In	fact,	there
is	a	joy	in	knowing	that	after	all	these	years,	we’ve	finally	grown	up. A	wave	of	new	possibility	is	upon	us,	as	a	huge	and	formerly	quite	cocky
generation	has	reached	the	years	of	thinning	hair	and	less	easy	knee	bends. What	we	will	do	now	is	not	predetermined	but	rather	remains	to	be	seen,	as
each	of	us	will	see	according	to	what	we	
choose
	to. We	can	acquiesce	to	the
downward	pull	of	age	and	chaos,	or	we	can	fearlessly	forge	new	ground—
wielding	the	power	of	what	life	has	taught	us	so	far,	laying	claim	to	the
possibility	of	redemption	not	only	for	ourselves	but	for	the	entire	world. Our	generation	has	a	lot	to	answer	for,	having	partied	so	long	and	matured
so	late. Yet	now	that	there	is	less	life	left,	we’re	ready	at	last	to	
show	up
	for	it. We	have	the	knowledge,	and	hopefully	the	courage	now,	to	stand	up	for	what
we	know	to	be	true. We	realize	one	chapter	of	the	book	of	our	lives	has
closed,	but	perhaps	the	next	one	doesn’t	have	to	be	worse. In	fact,	it	could	be
infinitely	better. These	years	can	be	something	to	celebrate	and	cherish,	if	we
have	the	courage	to	take	the	reins	of	consciousness	and	create	something	new
for	ourselves	and	for	the	world. Each	of	us	has	gone	through	our	own	private	dramas,	taken	our	own
individual	journeys;	now	we	meet,	as	though	at	a	predestined	point,	to	pool
our	resources	of	talent	and	intelligence,	faith	and	hope. Ultimately,	we	areindividually	glorified	as	we	find	our	place	within	a	collective	heartbeat. We
have	journeyed	alone,	and	now	we’ll	journey	together. The	real	drama	of	this
age	is	far	from	over. In	a	way,	it’s	just	about	to	begin. E
VERY	GENERATION	COMES	BEARING	ITS	OWN	GIFTS
. The	greatest	gifts	of	the	baby
boomers	have	yet	to	be	mined,	as	they’re	decidedly	different	from	what	we
thought	they	were. They	have	as	much	to	do	with	facing	our	failures,	and	the
spiritual	growth	that	comes	with	that,	as	with	taking	credit	for	anything. An	idealistic	generation	that	was	going	to	make	everything	much	better	has
actually	presided	over	an	era	in	which	many	things	have	gotten	much	worse. Every	generation,	in	the	final	analysis,	is	just	people	who	were	passing
through. And	during	our	pass,	at	least	so	far,	we	haven’t	quite	done	yet	what
we	came	here	to	do. Our	epiphany,	for	those	of	us	who	are	baby	boomers,	is	that	in	many	ways
we	wasted	our	youth—not	in	that	we	lived	it	frivolously,	but	in	that,	in	far	too
many	cases	we	lived	it	only	for	ourselves. Our	parents	and	their	parents
before	them	became	adults	when	it	was	natural	to	do	so. They	got	on	with	it. We,	on	the	other	hand,	put	off	a	truly	mature	existence	for	as	long	as	we
possibly	could. Now,	having	simmered	as	in	a	pressure	cooker	for	decades	too
long,	our	latent	maturity	emerges	with	a	sensitivity	we	hardly	knew	we	had. Where	we	should	have	gotten	to	and	what	we	should	have	realized	at	20	or
30,	we’re	getting	to	at	40,	
50,	and	60. But	it’s	not	too	late. We	haven’t	lived
through	what	we’ve	lived	through,	bled	the	way	we’ve	bled,	and	been
humbled	the	way	we’ve	been	humbled	to	have	it	just	be	
over
	now. In	fact,	we
owe	too	much	to	the	world	to	get	off	that	easily. We	were	all	born	carrying	a
promise—a	promise	to	make	the	world	better—and	there’s	a	yearning	to
make	good	on	that	promise	that	none	of	us	can	suppress	forever. There’s	a	silent	question	blaring	loudly	in	our	hearts:	
What	will	I	do	with
the	time	I	still	have	left? Perhaps	we’ve	been	given	a	kind	of	reprieve,	some
extra	time	in	which	to	get	it	right. Maybe	because	at	the	deepest	level	we
were	longing	for	one	more	chance	to	do	something	meaningful	before	we
pass	into	eternity,	eternity	seems	to	have	stretched	a	little. It	is	the	awful	power	of	our	newfound	humility	that	gives	us	our	one	last
chance	at	significance. Will	we	repudiate	the	glamorous	meaninglessness	that
has	marked	our	generation	so	far? Will	we	recognize	the	dark	and	corrupting
patterns	of	our	past	and	rise	up	to	change	them? Will	we	wield	the	power	of
lessons	learned? Will	we	align	with	the	creative	pulse	of	the	universe,
preparing	the	ground	for	a	glorious	future	in	which	no	one	can	say	that	wesimply	gave	up,	but	everyone	can	say	that	we	finally	got	going? Once	we
reach	a	certain	point,	the	revolving	door	comes	around	again—but	only	one
more	time. We	have	to	get	it	right	this	time	or	we’ll	die	having	gotten	it
wrong. What	we	have	called	our	“middle	age”	need	not	be	a	turning	point	toward
death. It	can	be	a	turning	point	toward	life	as	we	have	never	known	it,	as	we
could
	never	know	it,	when	we	were	too	young	and	arrogant	to	yet	appreciate
its	limits. Aging	humbles	us,	it’s	true—but	it	also	awakens	us	to	how	precious
life	is,	and	how	very	fragile. It’s	time	for	us	to	become	elders	and	caretakers
of	this	precious	planet,	not	just	in	name	but	in	passionate	practice. Until	such
time	as	God	calls	us	home,	we	should	make	of	
this
	world	the	home	of	our
dreams. The	realization	that	we’re	no	longer	young	collides	at	this	moment	with	a
sense	of	historical	urgency. Our	eyes	are	opened	to	the	seriousness	of	this
time,	and	our	deepest	desire	is	to	do	something	about	it. As	we	renew	our
commitment	to	the	processes	of	life,	then	the	processes	of	life	will	recommit
to	us. We’ll	feel	forgiven	for	a	past	that	wasn’t	all	it	should	have	been	when
we	commit	to	a	future	that	
is
	all	that	it	can,	should,	and	will	be—now	that
we’ve	finally	grown	up. The	prodigal	son	did	get	home	late,	having	partied	hard,	but	his	father
rejoiced	to	see	him. And	so	does	ours. Wherever	you’ve	been,	and	whatever	you’ve	done	so	far,	your	entire	life
was	building	up	to	this	moment. Now	is	the	time	to	burst	forth	into	your
greatness—a	greatness	you	could	never	have	achieved	without	going	through
exactly	the	things	you’ve	gone	through. Everything	you’ve	experienced	was
grist	for	the	mill	by	which	you	have	become	who	you	are. As	low	as	you
might	have	descended,	in	God	there	are	no	limits	to	how	high	you	can	go
now. It	is	
not
	too	late. You	are	
not
	too	old. You	are	right	on	time. And	you	are
better	than	you	know. Dear	God,
May	every	phase	of	my	life
be	blessed. May	my	thoughts	of	fear
not	block	Your	miracles. May	I	age	into	a	deeper	love.In	this,	as	in	all	things,	dear	God,
may	the	world	not	blind	me
to	You. Amen
Chapter	Two
D
O	
Y
OU	
B
ELIEVE
IN	
M
AGIC? A
t	a	certain	point,	life	becomes	less	about	who	you’re	becoming	and	more
about	who	you’ve	become. What	you	used	to	think	of	as	the	future	has
become	the	present,	and	you	can’t	help	but	wonder	if	your	life	wouldn’t	be
better	if	you’d	just	lived	it	more	fully	back	then. But	how	could	you? You
were	too	busy	thinking	about	the	future! Once	you’re	past	a	certain	age,	you	can	hardly	believe	you	wasted	even	one
minute	of	your	youth	not	enjoying	it. And	the	last	thing	you	want	to	do	now	is
steal	any	more	life	from	yourself	by	failing	to	be	deeply	in	it	while	it’s
happening. You	finally	get	it—not	just	theoretically,	but	viscerally—that	this
moment	is	all	you	have. You	don’t	close	your	eyes	anymore	and	wonder	who	you	might	be	in	20
years;	if	you’re	smart,	you	study	the	tape	of	your	current	existence	to	monitor
how	you’re	doing	now. You	see	the	present	as	an	ongoing	act	of	creation. You
look	more	closely	at	your	thoughts,	behavior,	and	interaction	with	others. You
understand	that	if	you’re	coming	at	life	from	fear	and	separation,	you	have	no
reason	to	expect	anything	but	fear	and	separation	back. You	seek	to	increase
your	strengths	and	decrease	your	weaknesses. You	look	at	your	wounds	and
ask	God	to	heal	them. You	ask	forgiveness	for	the	things	you’re	ashamed	of. You	no	longer	seek	your	satisfaction	in	things	outside	yourself,	completion	in
other	people,	or	peace	of	mind	in	either	the	past	or	future. You	are	who	you
are,
	not	who	you	might	one	day	be. Your	life	is	what	it	
is,
	not	what	it	might
someday	be. Focusing	on	who	you	are	and	what	your	life	is	right	now,	you
come	to	the	ironic	and	almost	amusing	realization	that,	yes,	the	fun	is	in	the
journey	itself. One	of	my	biggest	regrets	is	missing	the	Christmas	pageant	at	my
daughter’s	preschool	when	she	was	three	years	old. On	the	one	hand,
someone	working	for	me	didn’t	bother	to	tell	me	about	it;	on	the	other,	I’d
obviously	given	off	the	vibe	that	I	wouldn’t	care	or	didn’t	have	time	to	go.And	now	I	sometimes	think	to	myself	what	I	wouldn’t	give	to	see	that
pageant	now. I	have	a	memory	missing,	and	it	feels	like	a	hole	where	a	smile
should	be. I	was	ashamed	to	admit	it,	when	finally	I	did,	that	I’d	become	a	bit	like	my
father,	who	was	so	concerned	about	his	career	in	his	40s	and	50s	that	his
emotional	availability	to	his	children	was	relegated	to	only	one	day	of	the
week. On	Sundays,	I	had	him;	every	other	day,	I	longed	for	him. Years	later,
when	his	first	granddaughter	came	along,	he’d	aged	to	that	more	mellow
place	where	being	present	to	a	child	seemed	at	last	more	satisfying	than	being
present	to	his	work. I	used	to	feel	jealous	of	the	little	girls	whom	he	grandfathered	with	so	much
care	and	attention. I	knew	that	if	he	had	fathered	me	the	way	he	grand-
fathered	them,	I	would	have	become	a	different	woman. How	horrified	I	was
years	later	to	hear	my	five-year-old	daughter	say	these	pitiful	words:	“I	miss
my	mommy	even	when	she’s	here.”
Seeing	places	where	we	have	been	unconscious	before,	we	have	a	desire	to
do	it	all	again—but	
right
	this	time! And	in	some	cases	we	can. Many	people
atone	for	not	having	been	better	parents	by	being	much	better	grandparents. And	that’s	often	how	their	children	forgive	them. But	some	situations	aren’t
so	amenable	to	redoing,	and	some	years	can’t	so	easily	be	made	up. That’s
why	it’s	so	important	to	appreciate	that	the	best	time	to	try	to	be	your	best	is
in	the	present	moment. You’ll	never	have	a	better	chance. Dear	God,
Please	expand	my	constricted	mind. Open	my	clouded	eyes	that	I	might	see. Do	not	allow	me	to	escape	my	good. Help	me	not	to	miss	my	life. Prepare	my	heart	for	better	things. Amen
O
NE	DAY
	I	
LOOKED	AT	MYSELF
	in	the	mirror	and	indulged	in	full-scale	self-pity. Oh,	I	remember	when	I	was	young,
	I	thought. My	skin	was	tighter,	my
breasts	were	higher,	my	rear	was	firmer,	my	entire	body	was	voluptuous. I	had
so	much	more	energy,	and	I	practically	glowed. I	wish	I	had	realized	what	I
had	when	I	had	it	…	and	now	I’ll	never	have	it	again. Then	another	voice	in	my	head	intervened.“Oh,	Marianne	…	,”
	it	said,	“
shut	up! Let	me	give	you	a	rundown	of	what	it
was	like	when	you	were	younger. Your	nerves	were	jangled,	your	heart	was
restless,	your	mind	was	disordered,	your	appetites	were	addictive,	your	love
affairs	were	tragic,	your	talents	were	squandered,	your	opportunities	were
wasted,	and	you	were	never	at	peace. “What	you	did	then,	in	fact,	was	exactly	what	you’re	doing	now:	You	kept
thinking	that	if	only	things	were	
different
,	you’d	be	happy. Then	it	was
whatever	man	or	job	or	resources	were	there	to	save	you;	now	it’s	if	only	you
were	still	young. Reality	check:	In	those	days,	you	looked	good	but	you	didn’t
know	it. You	had	everything	but	you	didn’t	appreciate	it. You	had	the	world	at
your	feet	but	you	didn’t	realize	it. “You	know	what	it	was	like? It	was	
just	like	now! ”	Thus	began	my	recovery	from	“youth-itis.”	I	slip	back	into	it	every	once
in	a	while,	but	as	time	goes	on,	I	snap	out	of	it	faster	and	faster. I	realize	it’s
nothing	more	than	a	mental	habit	to	idealize	another	time,	another	condition,
another	reality—as	simply	a	way	to	avoid	the	reality	of	my	life	right	now. And	in	avoiding	the	reality	of	our	present	circumstances,	we	avoid	the
miracles	they	offer. Everyone	does	it	because	that’s	the	way	the	ego	mind
works. But	we	can	stare	down	this	self-defeating	habit	and	cultivate	a	truer
perspective:	that	wherever	we	are	is	the	perfect	place,	and	whatever	time	it	is
now	is	the	perfect	time. That	doesn’t	mean	we	can’t	or	shouldn’t	improve
things,	particularly	ourselves. But	indulging	the	thought	that	
if	only	we	were
younger,	things	would	be	better
	is	a	surefire	way	to	age	with	pain. M
Y	FATHER	ONCE	TOLD	ME
,	“When	you’re	old,	you	don’t	feel	old.”	I	can	appreciate
what	he	meant	when	he	said	that,	as	I	ponder	the	fact	that	the	essential	being	I
am	inside	myself	is	the	same	in	my	50s	as	when	I	was	only	15. So	who	am	I
really? Am	I	the	woman	who	has	changed	with	age,	or	am	I	the	changeless
self	within? Am	I	the	woman	who	is	encased	in	time	or	the	being	who	dwells
apart	from	it? Sometimes	when	referring	to	things	that	happened	long	ago,	we	say	things
like	“I	remember	it	like	it	was	yesterday.”	And	that’s	because	in	a	way	it	was. If	time,	as	Einstein	declared,	is	merely	an	illusion	of	consciousness,	then
linear	time	itself	is	a	metaphysical	fiction;	everything	that	has	happened,	is
happening,	or	will	happen,	is	happening	
now. There,	in	that	realm	of	the
eternal	now,	is	the	true	“I	am.”
The	eternal	self	dwells	in	eternity,	and	eternity	intersects	linear	time	at	onlyone	point:	the	present. Who	you	are	in	this	moment,	therefore,	is	who	you
truly	are. And	who	you	are	is	love	itself. From	that	essential	point	of	perfect
being—created	anew	by	God	every	instant—miracles	flow	naturally. Love
interrupts	the	past	and	opens	the	future	to	new	probabilities. No	matter	who
you	are,	no	matter	how	old	you	are,	in	the	present,	all	things	are	possible. The	physical	self	ages,	of	course,	but	the	spiritual	self	does	not. As	we
identify	more	with	the	spiritual	dimension	of	our	lives,	then	our	experience
begins	to	shift	from	the	changeable	to	the	changeless	…	from	limitation	to
limitlessness	. . . from	fear	to	love. As	our	journey	through	linear	time	gets
shorter,	our	consciousness	can	in	fact	expand. And	as	it	does,	time	itself	is
affected. The	deeper	we	go	into	the	love	at	the	heart	of	things,	the	more	we
actualize	our	earthly	potential. The	understanding	of	that	which	does	
not
change	is	the	key	to	our	power	within	a	world	that	does. In	aligning	ourselves
with	the	eternal	self,	we	age	not	in	a	straight	line	leading	from	luscious	youth
to	decrepit	age,	but	rather	like	the	flowering	lotus	opening	more	and	more	to
the	light	of	the	sun. And	age	becomes	a	miracle. Physically,	we	get	older	and	then	we	die. Yet	spiritually,	whether	we	go
backward	or	forward	is	a	matter	not	of	the	body	but	of	consciousness. When
we	think	about	age	differently,	then	our	experience	of	it	changes. We	can	be
physically	older	but	emotionally	and	psychologically	younger. Some	of	us
were	in	a	state	of	decay	in	our	20s	and	are	in	a	state	of	rebirth	in	our	60s	or
70s. King	Solomon,	who	supposedly	was	the	wisest	of	all	men,	described	his
youth	as	his	winter	and	his	advanced	years	as	his	summer. We	can	be	older
than	we	used	to	be	yet	feel	much	younger	than	we	are. As	we	become	more	spiritually	intelligent,	more	aware	of	the	forces	that
underlie	and	cause	all	earthly	reality,	then	issues	of	age	begin	to	transform. Spiritual	growth	increases	our	sense	of	what’s	possible. And	as	we	
sense
	new
possibility,	we	can	
step	into
	that	possibility. With	every	word,	every	thought,
every	action,	we	choose	what	we	wish	to	call	forth	in	life. Old	thoughts	create
old	scenarios,	and	we	can	choose	to	let	them	go. According	to	
A	Course	in	Miracles,
	we	achieve	so	little	because	our	minds
are	undisciplined. We’re	too	easily	lured	into	self-deprecating	thoughts,
limited	beliefs,	and	negative	self-perception. No	one	
forces
	you	to	think,	
My
best	years	are	behind	me,
	or	
No	one	will	want	me	anymore,
	or	
I	missed	my
chance. But	whatever	it	is	you	choose	to	think,	your	subconscious	mind	takes
it	very	seriously	and	your	experience	will	reflect	your	thinking. Our	very	cells	respond	to	the	thoughts	we	think—with	every	word,	silent	or
spoken,	we	participate	in	the	body’s	functioning. We	participate	in	thefunctioning	of	the	universe	itself. If	our	consciousness	grows	lighter,	then	so
does	everything	within	and	around	us. This	means,	of	course,	that	with	every	thought,	you	can	start	to	re-create
your	life. A
T	MIDLIFE,	YOU	SUDDENLY	SEE	AN	ENDGAME
	where	you	used	to	see	an	endless	stretch. You	know	now	on	a	visceral	level	that	this	lifetime	will	not	go	on	forever. There’s	no	more	time	for	five-year	detours. No	more	time	for	getting	it
wrong. No	more	time	for	relationships	that	don’t	serve,	or	for	staying	in
situations	that	aren’t	authentically	you. No	more	time	for	playing	small,	false
pride,	or	whatever	other	roadblock	emerged	from	the	dark	waters	of	your
psyche	to	obstruct	the	joy	that’s	meant	to	be	yours. You	want	to	become	a
precision	instrument	now—focusing	on	exactly	what	you	want	to	do	and
being	exactly	who	you	need	to	be. According	to	ancient	Asian	philosophy,	life	is	not	a	circle	but	a	spiral. Every	life	lesson	that	has	ever	been	presented	to	you	(which	means
everything	you	have	ever	been	through)	will	come	back	again,	in	some	form,
until	you	learn	it. And	the	stakes	each	time	will	be	higher. Whatever	you’ve
learned	will	bear	greater	fruit. Whatever	you’ve	failed	to	learn	will	bear
harsher	consequences. Whatever	
didn’t
	work	in	your	life	before	this	point	was	a	reflection	of	the
fact	that	you	hadn’t	yet	integrated	the	different	parts	of	yourself. Where	you
didn’t	yet	accept	yourself,	you	attracted	a	lack	of	acceptance	in	others. Where
you	hadn’t	yet	dealt	with	your	shadows,	you	manifested	shadowy	situations. Broken	parts	of	you	encountered	broken	parts	of	others. So	now	you	know! That	was	then	and	this	is	now. Midlife	is	our	second	chance. If	you	want	to	spend	the	years	you	have	left
simply	reenacting	the	dramas	of	your	past,	you	can. The	same	script	will
indeed	be	coming	around	again	for	your	review. It	always	does. But	if	you
choose,	you	can	take	the	script	and	give	it	an	awesome	rewrite,	totally	get	on
top	of	your	material,	and	take	a	bow	at	the	end	that	blows	everyone	away. Your	play	might	be	set	in	another	town	this	time	and	the	characters	might
be	different. But	it	is	essentially	the	same	play. Whether	you	were	ready	for
your	starring	role	last	time	is	another	story. Whether	you	behaved	in	a	way
that	welcomed	your	opportunities	and	maximized	their	benefits	is	another
story. But	the	fact	that	you	ever	attracted	opportunities	in	the	first	place	means
that	they	belonged	in	your	script. Now—through	the	power	of	youratonement,	humility,	and	a	sincere	desire	to	get	it	right	in	areas	where	you
might	have	gotten	it	wrong	before—you	will	attract	the	same	opportunities
again,	in	another	form. An	all-merciful	God	has	sent	them	around	once	more,
with	even	bigger	plans	for	how	they	can	bless	you	and	others	now. Do	the	rewrite	carefully. Your	character	should	not	say	“I’m	too	old	now,”
but	rather	“I’m	just	getting	started.”	“I’m	too	weak	for	this”	can	be	“I	am
strong	now.”	“I	blame	them	for	what	they	did	to	me”	can	be	“I	choose	to
forgive.”	“What	can	I	get	from	this	situation?”	can	be	“What	can	I
contribute?”	And,	“What	do	I	want	to	do?”	can	be	“Dear	God,	what	would
You	have	me	do?”	With	every	new	thought,	you	can	work	a	miracle—
changing	your	script	and	changing	your	life. Dear	God,
I	wish	to	change	my	life,
so	please,	dear	God,
change	me. Remove	from	my	mind	all	judgment
and	from	my	heart	all	fear. Release	the	chains	that	bind	me
and	free	me	to	my	truer	self. Amen
I	
REMEMBER	AN	EXPERIENCE	AT	A	RESTRAURANT
	my	family	frequented	when	I	was	a
child. Its	backyard	garden	was	decorated	in	a	magical	way	at	night,	full	of
bubbles	and	multicolored	lights. I	felt	sure	that	there	were	otherworldly
beings	cavorting	by	the	fountain,	and	while	others	around	me	ate	dinner	and
talked,	I	sat	mesmerized	by	the	view. An	entire	drama	unfolded	outside	the
window,	a	fairyland	scenario	acted	out	on	a	stage	of	light	that	only	I	could
see. Decades	later,	I	can	still	see	it. As	children	we	loved	such	things,	but	then	we	grew	up	and	were	told
they’re	just	fantasies	to	be	left	behind. We	were	indoctrinated	into	a
disenchanted	world,	and	we’ve	sacrificed	a	lot	in	order	to	live	there. The
world	isn’t	better	off	for	having	forfeited	its	tenderness. The	meanness	and
cynicism	of	our	age,	the	reflexive	sarcasm	that	passes	for	intelligentreflection,	the	suspicion	and	judgment	of	everyone	and	everything—such	are
the	toxic	by-products	of	a	disenchanted	worldview. Many	of	us	want	off	that	wheel	of	suffering. We	don’t	want	to	accept	that
what	is
	is	
what	has	to	be. We	want	to	pierce	the	veil	of	illusion	that	separates
us	from	a	world	of	infinite	possibility. We	want	another	kind	of	life—for
ourselves	and	for	the	world—and	the	hunger	to	find	it	becomes	more	intense
as	we	grow	older. At	midlife	we’re	at	a	fork	in	the	road:	We	either	accept	the	modern
materialist’s	view	of	the	world,	in	which	case	we	just	keep	on	truckin’	until
we	finally	die;	or	we	consider	that	our	visit	to	a	disenchanted	world	was
simply	an	error—the	archetypal	exile	from	the	Garden	of	Eden—and	now	we
can	return	to	at	least	some	semblance	of	the	garden	if	we	choose. Perhaps	the
enchantment	of	our	childhood	perspective	was	not	so	much	fantasy	as	a	not-
truly-lost	reality	that	can	still	be	reclaimed. Perhaps	there	is	a	door	to
miraculous	realms	that	is	simply	waiting	for	us	to	open	it. We	can	consider	that	there	might	be	another	way. Today	is	much	like	ancient	times,	when	people	carrying	the	“old”	wisdom
were	overrun	by	the	encroachments	of	the	early	church. Today	it	is	not	the
church	that	holds	us	down—or	any	institution,	really;	the	oppressor	is	simply
a	mistaken	worldview,	a	monster	with	many	heads	that	posits	a	world	where
the	forces	of	the	soul	are	peripheral. No	matter	what	form	this	oppressor
takes,	or	where	it	comes	from,	the	only	point	that	matters	is	that	you	can
believe	whatever	you	want	to	believe. And	what	you	believe	will	be	true	for
you. We’ve	been	brainwashed	and	misled	by	the	prejudices	of	modernity. A
rationalistic,	mechanistic	world-view	eradicated	several	colors	on	the	color
wheel	and	then	pronounced	itself	better	eyesight. Increasing	our	capacity	in
some	areas	of	the	brain,	it	diminished	our	capacity	in	others. While	we	have
mapped	the	outer	territories	of	the	world—from	outer	space	to	the	tiny	atom
—we’re	only	crudely	aware	of	the	parallel	universe	of	the	inner	self. And
how	can	you	navigate	a	land	you	refuse	to	see? If	you	want	to	believe	that	what	your	physical	eyes	can	see	is	all	that’s
there,	then	fine,	go	ahead. Stay	in	that	small	fraction	of	perceptual	reality	if
you	choose. But	at	some	point—even	if	that	point	is	at	the	point	of	death—we
all	know	better. I’ve	seen	cynics	become	mystics	on	their	deathbeds. We	are
here	as	though	in	a	material	dream,	from	which	the	spiritual	nature	of	our
larger	reality	is	calling	us	to	awaken. The	magician,	the	alchemist,	the	miracleworker,	is	simply	someone	who	has	woken	up	to	the	material	delusions	of	the
world	and	decided	to	live	another	way. In	a	world	gone	mad,	we	can	choose
to	be	sane. In	order	to	move	ourselves—and	our	civilization—into	the	next	phase	of
our	evolutionary	journey,	it’s	time	to	reenchant	ourselves. The	wizard	Merlin
was	an	old	man	with	a	long	white	beard. He	wasn’t	born	a	full-fledged	wizard
so	much	as	he	
became
	a	full-fledged	wizard. And	his	becoming,	like	yours
and	mine,	would	have	had	to	have	taken	years. Most	of	us	have	ventured
away	from	the	knowing	in	our	hearts,	and	what	we	encountered	on	our	detour
had	deep	significance. In	fact,	the	mystical	kingdom	of	sorcerers	and	castles,
brave	knights	and	dragons,	turns	out	to	be	a	more	mature	rendition	of	our
soul’s	journey	than	anything	the	so-called	realists	ever	taught	us,	or	even	saw. Children’s	fairy	tales	aren’t	really	fantasy,	so	much	as	our	modern
worldview	is. I
N
	
B	
EAUTY
	
AND	THE
	
B	
EAST
	
,	A
	BEAUTIFUL	PRINCE
	turns	into	a	horrible	beast—until
finally	unconditional	love	turns	him	back	into	who	he	really	is. Gee,	that
sounds	like	almost	everyone	I	know. Years	ago,	after	my	first	book	was	published,	my	lawyer	recounted	to	me	a
conversation	he’d	had	with	my	publisher. The	publisher	had	made	a	comment
about	my	being	a	“spiritual	teacher,”	to	which	my	lawyer	had	replied,	“She’s
not! She	writes	books	about	spirituality,	but	she’s	not	a	spiritual	teacher.”	I
remember	wanting	to	say,	“Actually,	John,	I	think	I	
am
	a	spiritual	teacher,”
but	I	didn’t,	out	of	fear	that	it	would	appear	immodest. Who	was	I	to	call
myself	that? Yet	as	it	says	in	
A	Course	in	Miracles,
	we	create	what	we	defend
against;	in	an	effort	to	dissuade	people	from	thinking	I	thought	of	myself	as
any	big	deal,	I	acted	in	a	way	that	ensured	they	would. Oh,	you	think	I’m	so	spiritual? Watch	this! I	can	be	stupid,	too! Thinking	it
was	humble	to	do	so,	I	dissociated	who	I	was	when	I	wasn’t	working	from	the
more	enlightened	persona	that	came	naturally	to	me	when	I	was. The	ego
defends	the	“separate	self,”	leading	to	thoughts	that	lead	to	behavior	that	often
reflect	our	“opposite.”	That	is	what	many	of	us	are	doing	in	this	life:	living
the	opposite	of	our	truth,	just	as	the	beast	was	the	opposite	of	the	beautiful
prince	in	the	fairy	tale. We	prance	around	on	a	stage	of	illusion,	acting	out	whatever	pathetic	bit
part	the	fear-based	ego	allows	us	in	this	tragic	play,	repeating	our	lines
without	realizing	this	isn’t	the	script	with	which	we	came	into	this	life. Ourscript,	in	fact,	got	switched	at	birth—we’re	playing	a	part	that	is	not	our	part
and	repeating	lines	that	are	not	our	lines. The	ego	not	only	defends	against	our	expressing	our	true	selves,	but	also
against	our	consciously	seeing	that	this	is	what	we’re	doing. Our	opposite
becomes	the	personality	that	we,	and	everyone	else,	thinks	we	actually	are. Then,	since	the	ego	is	guiding	how	we’re	presenting	ourselves,	the	world
comes	to	agree	that	of	course	that	
is
	who	we	actually	are. We’re	no	longer
princes,	but	beasts. And	thus	we	are	double	bound:	first	by	appearing	as	not
who	we	really	are,	and	then	by	the	dark	contagion	of	a	world	that	is	judging
us	for	it. Only	when	I	realized	that	it	wasn’t	arrogant,	but	humble,	to	accept	with
grace	and	honor	the	part	I	play	in	the	world,	was	I	able	to	drop	the	personality
self	that	consistently	felt	the	need	to	deflect	it. To	accept	that	God	has	given	each	of	us	a	magnificent	role	to	play	on	Earth
merely	because	we’re	human;	that	we	were	born	with	a	perfect	script	etched
on	our	hearts;	that	it’s	not	to	our	personal	credit,	but	to	His	greater	glory,	that
each	of	us	is	brilliant—such	are	the	truths	that	free	us	from	the	ego’s	lies. Mystical	understanding	is	a	ray	of	light,	God’s	kiss	that	transforms	us	back
into	who	we	truly	are. Each	of	us	can	put	down	the	burden	of	our	false	self
and	allow	our	truth	to	reemerge. The	world	in	which	we	live	today—reflecting	in	so	many	ways	the	opposite
of	our	sweetness	and	love—reminds	us	how	desperately	important	it	is	to
break	the	spell	that’s	been	cast	on	the	human	race	and	retrieve	our	shining
self. Our	inner	sweetness—whether	we	call	it	“the	Christ,”	“the	soul,”	or
whatever	word	describes	the	spiritual	essence	so	not	at	home	in	our	worldly
zones	of	combat—is	the	only	place	where	we	will	ever,	ever,	be	safe. The
outer	kingdom	is	not	our	real	home. The	inner	kingdom	is	our	everything. And	until	we	retrieve	it,	our	outer	kingdom	will	be	a	land	of	suffering	for
everyone. My	dreamlike	and	mystical	nature	as	a	child	could	rarely	find	acceptance
within	my	family	system	or	support	at	school,	a	conundrum	to	which	I
responded—as	most	people	do	to	the	stress	of	finding	themselves	at	home
where	they	are	not	at	home—by	psychically	splitting	off	from	myself. I
separated	from	my	authentic	spirit,	my	psyche	splitting	in	two	like	a	broken
tooth. My	spirit	wandered	high	above	me,	as	though	on	a	shelf	where	it	would
remain	accessible	to	me	personally	but	hopefully	invulnerable	to	derision	by
others. Which	means	that	to	the	best	of	my	young	ability,	I	put	my	spirit	into
the	hands	of	God	for	safekeeping.I	remember	when	I	was	a	little	girl,	one	of	my	close	girlfriends	lived	in	a
house	where	there	was	a	mural	painted	on	the	wallpaper	in	the	powder	room. It	showed	two	little	angels	lying	on	clouds	holding	hand	mirrors. And	that
powder	room	at	Beth	Klein’s	house	became	like	a	chapel	to	me. I	would	come
up	with	any	excuse	to	enter	that	room	and	just	stare	up	at	the	mural. I	felt	like
that	prepainted	wallpaper	was	speaking	to	me	of	somewhere	I	had	been	and
longed	to	go	again. I	wondered	if	others	could	see	what	I	could	see	on	that
wall	of	my	Sistine	Chapel	on	Tartan	Lane. How	young	we	were,	so	many	of	us,	when	we	felt	psychologically	cast	out
of	our	homes. Feeling	cast	out,	we	collectively	manifested	a	world	from
which,	if	we	don’t	change	things,	we	
will
	be	cast	out. The	only	way	we	can
fundamentally	heal	a	situation	in	which	the	human	race	teeters	on	the	brink	of
all	manner	of	catastrophe	is	to	repair	the	original	separation	between	who	we
truly	are	and	who	we	have	become. In	the	words	of	poet	T.	S.	Eliot:
We	shall	not	cease	from	exploration
And	the	end	of	all	our	exploring
Will	be	to	arrive	where	we	started
And	know	the	place	for	the	first	time. Every	life	is	a	microcosm	of	the	greater	global	drama. As	each	of	us	returns
to	the	truth	in	our	hearts,	we	will	be	released	to	our	highest	creativity	and
intelligence. This	will	open	up	avenues	of	repair	the	mortal	mind	can’t	even
imagine,	leading	us	to	co-create	with	God	a	transformed	experience	of	life	on
earth. Realigned	within	ourselves,	we	will	realign	the	world. And	heaven	and
earth	shall	be	as	one. I
N
	2007,	
HAVING	BEEN	READING
	
A	Course	in	Miracles
	for	three	decades	and
lecturing	on	it	literally	thousands	of	times,	I	came	out	of	meditation	one	day
and	thought,	
I’ve	become	an	advanced	student	of	the	
Course
	! Not	an
advanced	
practitioner,
	mind	you,	but	an	advanced	student. And	that	took	30
years. What	is	it	about	spiritual	knowledge	that	takes	so	long	to	digest? The
trendy	nature	of	much	contemporary	seeking	would	lead	you	to	think	that	you
spend	a	year	or	two	at	the	ashram	and	
voilà! —you’re	at	the	mountaintop. But
my	experience	argues	otherwise. It	takes	a	decade	to	understand	the	basic
nature	of	spiritual	principles,	another	decade	while	the	ego	tries	to	eat	you
alive,	another	decade	while	you	try	to	wrestle	it	to	the	ground,	and	finally	youbegin	to	walk	more	or	less	in	the	light. Anyone	who	thinks	a	spiritual	path	is
easy	probably	hasn’t	been	walking	one. What	does	all	this	mean:	to	embrace	the	light,	walk	in	the	light,	and	so	on? What	is	all	this	light,	light,	light	talk? In	
A	Course	in	Miracles,
	light	is
defined	as	“understanding.”	What	a	beautiful	thought,	that	to	see	the	light	is
to	understand. By	midlife,	we’re	usually	aware	enough	to	understand	which	of	our	issues
most	need	attention. We’ve	learned	where	we’re	strong,	but	also	where	we’re
weak. We	know	what	parts	of	ourselves	to	be	proud	of	and	what	parts	of	ourselves
should	change. We	know	what	our	
issues
	are	this	lifetime. It	might	not	be	a
time	when	we’re	learning	
new
	things	about	ourselves	so	much	as
understanding	more	deeply	what	we	already	know. And	new	levels	of	self-
awareness	bring	new	opportunities	for	breakthrough. This	is	not	the	time	to	stop	working	on	ourselves;	it’s	the	time	when	we’ve
finally	accumulated	enough	clues	to	help	crack	the	case	and	solve	the	mystery
of	why	and	how	we’ve	kept	ourselves	bound	for	so	long. It’s	not	the	time	to
give	up	and	say,	
“This	is	just	how	I	am. It’s	too	late	to	change.”	Quite	the
opposite—it’s	time	to	take	a	stand,	once	and	for	all,	for	your	own	potential. Don’t	worry	that	it	took	you	so	long	to	get	to	this	point. It	takes	everyone	this
long. We	know	nothing	until	we	know	all	the	ways	that	we’re	not	who	we
should	be. Only	then	do	we	have	a	chance	at	becoming	the	people	we’ve
wanted	to	be,	and	God	intended	us	to	be,	from	the	day	we	were	born. For	that	reason	alone,	these	are	sacred	years. You	can’t	really	build	a	life	till	you’ve	pulled	together	all	the	things	you’ve
finally	come	to	understand	about	yourself. And	life	would	be	cruel	if	at	just
about	the	time	you’ve	finally	figured	it	out,	it	reached	some	sort	of
predetermined	disintegration. Just	as	adolescents	must	separate	from	their
parents,	you	need	to	separate	from	the	person	you	were	before	this	point,	to
whatever	extent	that	person	was	not	the	real	you. Finding	out	who	we	actually	aren’t,	we	begin	to	understand	at	last	who	we
actually	are. Dear	God,
Please	soften	my	heart
where	it	has	hardened.Please	help	me	reach
for	higher	thoughts. Please	pave	the	way
for	a	better	life,
for	me	and	all	the	world. Amen
T
HOSE	OF	US	WHO	HAVE	EXPERIENCED	THE	MOST	OF	LIFE
	—with	its	evil	as	well	as	its	good
—have	greater	understanding	with	which	to	tame	the	beast	of	chaos	and
unruliness	that	threatens	the	earth	today. We’ve	learned	the	hard	way	that	the
darkness	of	the	world	is	a	reflection	of	the	darkness	inside	us. We’ll	learn	to
tame	the	beast	of	the	world	by	taming	it	within	ourselves. When	you’re	young,	you’re	powerful	in	a	physical	sense. The	strength	of
youth	is	not	earned	so	much	as	given	to	you	as	a	gift	from	nature. It	serves	a
role	that	belongs	specifically	to	the	young:	to	procreate	and	build	external
structures	that	support	material	life. As	our	physical	strength	begins	to	wane,	it	can	be	augmented	by	spiritual
strength. Yet	unlike	our	youthful	brawn,	spiritual	power	isn’t	simply	given	to
us;	it	has	to	be	earned. And	it	is	often	earned	through	suffering. This	isn’t	a
deficiency	in	nature’s	plan	but	an	
economy
	in	nature’s	plan. Our	physical
muscles	cannot	help	us	carry	the	weight	of	the	world’s	emotional	pain—only
spiritual	musculature,	built	through	accumulated	repetitions	of	heartache,	can
do	that. As	mature	people,	we	carry	a	unique	spiritual	elixir. Having	seen	the
darkness	in	ourselves	and	others,	we’ve	become	more	humble	before	the
light. Having	been	brought	out	of	darkness,	we’ve	developed	a	devotion	to
the	God	Who	delivered	us. Having	made	real	mistakes,	we	know	how	much	it
means	to	feel	forgiven. Having	suffered,	we	feel	more	compassion	for	human
suffering. Those	things	aren’t	just	abstractions	to	us	anymore;	they	are
principles	that	have	infused	our	flesh. We	are	strong	now	in	ways	we	could
not	have	been	before. And	our	strength	is	needed. We	are	entering	a	time
when	our	internal	strengths,	more	than	our	external	ones,	will	be	humanity’s
most	important	sources	of	renewal	and	repair. Whatever	powers	we	might	lose	with	age	are	small	compared	to	the	powers
we	stand	to	gain. There’s	a	profound	satisfaction	in	finally	giving	up
something	meaningless,	for	no	other	reason	than	that	we	did	it	to	the	max	and
now	we’re	ready	to	move	on. Midlife	is	about	surrendering	things	that	nolonger	matter,	not	because	our	lives	are	in	decline	but	because	they’re	on	an
incline
. Traveling	upward,	we	simply	let	go	of	some	baggage. Maybe	there’s
more	natural	wisdom	in	what’s	happening	to	us	now	than	we	think. Of	all
those	things	we	can’t	remember,	is	it	possible	that	any	of	them	are	completely
unimportant? Could	it	be	that	nature	is	
demanding
	rather	than	just	requesting
that	we	simplify? The	only	way	we	can	peacefully	age	is	if	we	have	respect
for	the	demands	of	the	experience. It’s	almost	embarrassing	to	admit,	but	sometimes	it’s	a	relief	to	get	to
finally	slow	down. You	realize	“slower”	is	not	necessarily	
“worse	than.”	The
speed	of	our	former	years	was	not	as	constructive	as	it	appeared	to	be. Moving	too	fast,	we	often	missed	a	lot. Many	of	us	made	big	mistakes	we
might	not	have	made	if	we	hadn’t	been	moving	through	life	so	quickly. I	remember	when	I	was	young	hearing	Otis	Redding	sing,	“Sitting	here
resting	my	bones	…	,”	and	thinking,	
Who	needs	to	rest	their	bones? Now	of
course	I	know. And	when	I	first	had	the	thought	one	day	that	I	was	just	sitting
there	resting	my	bones,	I	panicked. I	thought	it	was	all	over	if	my	
bones
	were
tired! But	then	I	realized	something	else,	like	a	guilty	secret:	I	was	
enjoying
just	sitting	there. I	wasn’t	attending	a	Buddhist	retreat	
trying
	to	enjoy	just
sitting;	I	really	
was
	enjoying	it! I	was	enjoying	the	kinetic	experience	of	a
rocking	chair	in	a	way	I	had	never	thought	possible. (“Oh,	these	things	are
actually	
helpful! Who	knew?”)	I	didn’t	feel	the	need	to	get	up,	to	go
somewhere	else,	or	to	do	anything	at	all. With	less	adrenaline	came	less
distraction. I	felt	no	need	to	justify	my	existence	by	achieving	or	performing	a
thing. And	that’s	when	I	realized,	
This	is	very	different,	but	it	isn’t	bad. Sometimes	what	we	appear	to	have	lost	is	simply	something	it	was	time	to
leave	behind. Perhaps	our	system	just	lets	something	go,	our	having	moved
through	the	experience	and	now	needing	it	no	more. A	friend	of	mine	was
sitting	once	with	two	of	his	best	friends,	a	couple	he’d	partied	long	and	hard
with	during	the	l960s. At	about	ten	in	the	evening	the	couple’s
twentysomething	daughter	came	home,	saw	them	on	the	couch,	and
admonished	them,	“You	guys	are	so	boring! You	never	go	out!”	To	which	all
three	responded	in	unison,	“We	were	out,	and	now	we’re	in.”
The	mind	is	its	own	kind	of	dance	floor. What	this	generation	could	do
from	our	rocking	chairs	could	literally	rock	the	world. If	in	fact	the	highest,
most	creative	work	is	the	work	of	consciousness,	then	in	slowing	down	we’re
not	doing	less;	we’re	doing	
more
. Having	slowed	down	physically,	we’re	in	a
better	space	to	rev	up	psychically. We	are	becoming	contemplative. We	are
shifting	from	the	outer	to	the	inner	not	in	order	to	begin	our	demise,	but	toreseed	and	regreen	the	consciousness	of	the	planet. And	that’s	what	is
happening	now:	We’re	going	slower	in	order	to	go	deeper,	in	order	to	go
faster	in	the	direction	of	urgently	needed	change. Dear	God,
When	I	rest
may	I	rest	in	You. I	surrender	my	spirit
that	it	might	be	renewed. At	last,	I	am	ready
to	change. Amen
T
O	THE	EGO,	SIMPLIFICATION	MEANS	HAVING	LESS;
	to	the	spirit,	simplification	means
having	more. Wherever	there	is	an	overabundance	of	material	substance,	the
experience	of	spirit	is	limited. Whether	it’s	decluttering	your	house	or
dropping	dysfunctional	relationships,	anything	you	do	to	prune	away	excess
material	involvement	leaves	the	soul	more	free	to	fly	up	to	its	natural	state. That	is	why	so	often	as	we	approach	the	mountaintop	of	spiritual	progress,	we
begin	the	process	of	letting	go. Age	involves	a	lot	of	letting	go—some	of	our	physical	prowess,	perhaps,	or
certain	worldly	opportunities,	or	our	children	to	live	their	own	lives. Yet	such
letting	go	isn’t	meant	to	constitute	a	depressing	sacrifice	of	happiness. Anytime	we’re	called	to	let	go	of	something,	there’s	a	hidden	treasure	to	be
found	in	the	experience.
_OceanofPDF.com_The_Age_of_Miracles_-_Marianne_Williamson.txt
Summarize the following text section accurately and concisely. Maintain specific details and numerical information, and use anti-repetition mechanisms:

        THE	AGE	OF
MIRACLES
A
LSO
	
BY
	M
ARIANNE
	W
ILLIAMSON
A	Return	to	Love
A	Woman’s	Worth
Illuminata
Emma	&	Mommy	Talk	to	God
Healing	the	Soul	of	America
Illuminated	Prayers
Enchanted	Love
Everyday	Grace
The	Gift	of	Change
A	Year	of	Daily	Wisdom	Perpetual	Flip	Calendar
*
Miracle	Cards
*
*Available	from	Hay	House
Please	visit	Hay	House	USA:	
www. hayhouse. com
®
Hay	House	Australia:	
www.
The author is discussing the idea that midlife is not the end of life, but rather a new beginning, and that it is never too late to change and grow.
What is the author's main theme in this book?
The author is saying that time is an illusion, and that it's not about the quantity of time left, but about the quality of the life we're living. The author is encouraging the reader to focus on the present moment and not dwell on the past.
What is the author's message about the concept of time and aging?
The author does not agree with the idea that we should be ashamed of our past or regret our choices. Instead, she encourages the reader to accept and learn from their experiences, and to recognize that it's never too late to change and grow.
What is the author's view on the idea that we should not have wasted our youth?
The author is emphasizing the importance of spiritual growth and the power of the human soul. She is saying that it's not about our physical strength or youth, but about the spiritual growth and wisdom that comes with age.
What is the author's message about the power of the human soul?
The author is encouraging the reader to accept and love themselves, regardless of their physical appearance or abilities. She is saying that it's not about who we are physically, but about who we are spiritually.
What is the author's message about the concept of self-acceptance?