Growing Young with Old Age Benefits and more...

 

In a 1927, Reverend Clarence H. Wilson of the Brooklyn Flatbush Congregational Church in his Sunday sermon encouraged his congregation to adapt a youthful perspective.

“We make ourselves old by keeping a tally of the years. How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are? Properly, a man is as old as he feels. . . . Birthdays are an annoyance and a delusion.”

I am thirty-three. I like birthdays because there’s cake. Thinking about my real age doesn’t annoy me, it shocks me. I have the attitudes, beliefs, and enthusiasm of being around thirty-three but am also at peace with what I’ve accomplished in life and care little about what people think, which comes with older age. I think I am the best of two age groups. I don’t try and think young, I just don’t know differently because that’s how I feel. The drugs help, but I’ll get to that.

I have been operating at age thirty-three for thirty-six years now. Actually, it’s been longer than that because I remember feeling thirty-three at twenty-four. Hike! 

Speaking of hiking, hiking in Spain is the twist in the plot of me believing I’m thirty-three. Having participated in a challenging week of hiking a year before I was ready to, was myth busting. (Let me know if you can say “myth busting” five times fast).

I planned on conditioning myself for the seven to twelve miles a day outlined in the trip itinerary several months ahead of time. Oops.

 

I had a surplus of endorphins ecstatically dancing in my unready body from the colossal beauty and the consequent cardio of climbing hills for hours, but because I wasn’t in good enough shape, those feel-good hormones were muting my alarm system. Despite skipping the afternoon hikes in lieu of not injuring myself, I hurt myself anyway in rigorous four hour morning hikes. I know this because I’m still limping three weeks later.

My thirty-three year old mentality thought, “I’ve got this.”
“No, no, you didn’t have it,” says my self that feels eighty-nine and currently has her leg iced, compressed, and elevated.

Sometimes we don’t got this.

I ironically injured my left Achilles’ tendon. Greek Mythology tells us that Achilles' Heel is a metaphor for a person's vulnerability even in the midst of otherwise great strength. I have achieved great emotional strength from enduring the hand I was dealt early in life, but it didn’t come with a special bonus supply of physical strength awarded without conditioning.

 

My vulnerability was being eager to get the most out of my beautiful vacation, but ignoring my limitations.

Honor your limitations but don’t let them ruin your day.

Feeling thirty-three has kept me doing the work I love, planning more creative projects, loving life with vitality, and being active mentally and creatively with no intention on stopping. I do walk five miles a day (when I’m not limping), frequently swim a mile, and am prone to dance the night away, but disregarding my real age during demanding week-long daily ten-mile hikes was beyond my delusional capabilities.

I’m pretty sure some thirty-three year olds may have experienced similar soreness if they hiked long strenuous trails without being ready, but I was reminded I can’t automatically be in shape without hard work beforehand like some younger people can. It’s humbling, but I’ve reframed it as another occasion for practicing self-kindness. I have many occasions for such practice.

I find cultivating self-compassion has a greater benefit to the rest of my life than feelings of disappointment, inadequacy, and stupidity. In fact, self-kindness is keeping me young because not only does self-condemnation age people, but self-compassion, practiced with robust sincerity, boosts dopamine and endorphins - neurotransmitters in the brain that give us feelings of well-being, and cause the pleasure centers in our brain to light up. Those are my drugs of choice, they keep me young.

I’m just about to light up from the comfort of my couch… won’t you join me?
Pass the kindness, bogart it for a while if you need to.

 

Kindness in general:
Acts of kindness toward others help increase serotonin levels, leading to feelings of happiness, reducing symptoms of depression, anxiety, and pain.

Kindness is contagious. Witnessing or receiving an act of kindness can inspire others to pay it forward, creating a positive ripple effect throughout communities. I’ve noticed more than any other social media platform, that there is a lot of kindness circulating on Substack. (Join me there, it's free unless you're in the mood to support my work, either way, I'm happy to have you.) We need kindness all the time, but right now it seems particularly crucial.

In kindness and birthday cake,

Jill

Another Kaizen-Muse Creativity Coaching Certification Training is coming up in August. 
Join me for a journey to make creativity, intuition, compassion, and mindfulness a bigger part of your life.

In Person Retreats

September 28- October 3, 2025 Wild Abandon Creativity: Omega Institute Rhinebeck, NY
To learn more, go here

February 7-11, 2026 The Muse in Winter: Full Service Creativity for five glorious days with three gourmet meals daily - Writing, Art, Yoga, Play
More about that is here

The fear of death follows from the fear of life.
A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.
~Mark Twain

 

I confess. I stopped looking at the news. As far as I know, this is my only life and the news has the ability to seriously rob my joy. When that happens, I’m not as good at dispensing inspiration to others which I consider my life’s work.

I used to watch the late night comedy shows that buffered the insanity that has been our country since 2016. Kimbel, Colbert, Meyers were regulars in my living room, and I admired their ability to illustrate the absurdity that had a distant, not immediate effect on my life. The idiotic has turned toxic, it’s not funny to me anymore. It’s affected too many people.

So I think of death instead.

In 2019, I had an MRI for suspicious activity in my right breast. The results cleared breast cancer, but the physician who read them told me to get to a cardiologist right away. The diagnosis, after another targeted MRI, was an ascending aortic aneurysm.

I always thought that having an aneurysm meant, that’s it … something vital has busted, adios. So I wrote an email to my close friends telling them I loved them and I would probably not be around much longer.

Five and a half years later, hi! hope I haven’t worn out my welcome, but I’m still here. The diagnosis became one of those stories where a near death experience makes life dearer. The possibility of life ending sooner than later gave me the “what’s most important” perspective, and it wasn’t whether my purse matched my shoes or if I should go to a social function when I wanted to stay home and write.

Bhutanese culture is known for its frequent contemplation of death. They meditate on death five times a day as a way to achieve happiness! This practice stems from the belief that acknowledging mortality cultivates a greater appreciation for life and helps us let go of the importance of material possessions and anxieties. For many in the west, this is considered morbid. Research, however, suggests this approach leads to increased contentment. When we move beyond denial and realize life is temporary, we have a more meaningful existence. We are all temp workers on the planet.

 

My lurking aneurysm isn’t an immediate threat. It’s an enlargement in the ascending aorta that’s just sitting there. Annual MRIs show that it’s not getting any bigger. What has expanded are possibilities in my life where there were once limitations because … I thought I had lots of time. Carpe Diem!

Hesitation about:

• taking a trip because it’s next week instead of next year

• sharing my imperfect creations because of what people might think

• doing the minimal for others because that’s others do

Those limiting beliefs and more are gone. I’m might as well live large to match my enlarged aorta.

I’m not perfect about seizing the day and keeping my eye on the beauty of life. Sometimes I get a little peeved about comments on social media, people loudly talking on their phones in public places, and some individual needing to tell me how to do things I already know how to do. But then I wake up. Those things don’t matter.

Remember that book that came out in 1997: Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: (It’s All Small Stuff)? Good title.

I’ve increased my practice of Stoicism. I found that Jerry Seinfeld does the same thing. Here’s a passage from an interview journalist Graham Bensinger had with him last July:

“Emperor of Rome from 161–180 AD, Marcus Aurelius is remembered as the ‘Philosopher King,’ largely because of his classic work Meditations, a cornerstone of Stoic philosophy that delves into such themes as reason, virtue, self-control, self-improvement, and finding peace in a turbulent world.

The book might seem like an odd choice for a comedian, but Seinfeld told Bensinger that the book helped him understand the impermanence of the physical world in which we live.

‘Everything that you’re worried about is going to be gone like that [snaps fingers]. The people that are criticizing you, they’re going to be gone,’ he said. ‘You’re going to be gone.’

The actor, who had recently turned 70, said the realization helped him appreciate how precious time is here, and how it shouldn’t be squandered by fretting over things we can’t control.

‘[It’s] wasted time and energy,’ Seinfeld said. “’Marcus Aurelius says your only focus should be on getting better at what you’re doing. Focus on what you’re doing; get better at what you’re doing. Everything else is a complete waste of time.’”

Hear, hear!

 

Note to myself:

• Focus on getting better at writing, art, other creative acts and sharing them.

• Focus on being a good partner, friend, and advocate for animals and the environment.

• Focus on loving everything beautiful about life because at some point, it will be the last time you can.

• Focus on:

Watermelon, peaches, waterfalls, clouds, love, kindness, cats, dogs, birds, elephants, otters, art, music, palm trees, jacaranda trees, love, laughter, fire, water, air, honeydew-cucumber-mint gazpacho, air travel, Spain, Yosemite, penguins, owls, shade, dolphins, whales, lemon cake, blueberry pie, hiking, whistling, singing, cellos, saxophones, guitars, drums, comfortable beds, chairs, soft robes, stained glass, Monet, Gaudi, Kandinsky, dinner parties, people who “get” you, outdoor concerts, indoor air conditioning, comforters, generosity, authenticity, exquisite writing, funny poetry, hanging laundry, Dolly Parton, contagious smiling, yoga, comfortable shoes, Broadway musicals, slapstick humor, suspenseful movies, rainstorms, the clearing after the storm, spring, fall, winter, hibiscus, gardenia, jasmine, cheese, pancakes, cupcakes, children playing, old people persevering, chocolate, recovery, forgiveness, holding hands, comedy, the way the waves dependably ebb and flow … creativity.

What else?

Focusing on these things brings me alive and I can do more for the world alive than I can do being deadened by the news. So there.

Whether it's the best of times or the worst of times, it's the only time we've got. ~Art Buchwald

If you woke up breathing, congratulations! You have another chance. ~Andrea Boydston

Temporarily yours,

Jill

 

By the way, purpose and passion enriches the life while we are here. It is found in the creative process. Immerse yourself in 17-weeks of a guided experience, leading you deeper into your own creative voice and strength with time-tested tools; liberate the creativity of others… or just do it for yourself. Join me in August, in the award-winning Kaizen-Muse Creativity Coaching Certification training. Simply email or message me telling me about your background and experience. All who are passionate about the creative process and have decent people skills are invited.

 

Hi

I was in prison for eight years … teaching yoga. I taught at the Miramar Naval Airbase brig, a military brig in San Diego. The men in my classes weren’t hardened criminals like big institutional reformatories. Most were caught in possession of drugs, a few in worse offenses.

Many of the women, on the other hand, were arrested for more serious crimes because this facility was one of the only women brigs in the country. I didn’t know why they were there but when a guard informed me that some of them were “lifers,” I had a pretty good guess. My concern was not what they did, but that they learn some yoga because I know what yoga can do.

Before the prison gig, I taught yoga for Jack-in-the-Box corporate headquarters, also in San Diego, for seven years and a smattering of women’s spas and wellness centers before that, but the reward in those establishments was not within a downward facing dog of teaching yoga to prisoners. I had a connection to those prisoners because I had my own form of imprisonment.

I taught two classes every Monday night, one for “females” and one for “males,” as they were called, I suspect to reduce their identity from the more personal “men and women”

I instructed the prisoners to find the freedom inside of themselves. In a place where you first are stripped of your identity because you’re in the military and then stripped of your freedom because of a crime you committed, finding freedom inside yourself can be a means of survival and reform.

The paradox was not lost on me nor the guards watching my class when I instructed the prisoners to “reconnect with yourself by going inside to that inner world where you are undisturbed by anyone or anything on the outside. There you will find a freedom no one can take away from you.” The prisoners liked hearing this, I liked reminding myself of it, the guards … not so much, but they did some eye-rolling which I suppose can be considered a form of yoga. Try it. Roll your eyes while breathing with it as if the breath was rotating the hands of a clock going around to each hour. See?

 

Depression is also a form of incarceration. I was confined in a cell of depression longer than eight years. The ability to follow-through on things I wanted to do, isolation, and constant self-recrimination were no strangers.

Having no real incident preceding being depressed makes you look like a sadness imposter. Most people don’t realize that you can snap out of a depression in much the same way you can snap out of diabetes. You can’t.

People also don’t understand why you are stuck in this place especially when your life looks so shiny from the outside. It’s not uncommon to follow yourself around like a bully narrating a constant stream of disappointment for unmet expectations.

In many kinds of yoga including the one I taught, you cannot help but be kind to yourself as part of the practice.

Yoga is one of the only ways I can move from feeling rigidly stuck in a place of anguish and inertia to one where I fold, twist, and stretch my body out of the immobilization I feel with the syndrome. Depression makes breathing shallow; yoga focuses on deepening the breath, it’s a life force that meets you where you are with compassion.

The shackles melted and I was able to reconnect with that place where depression is an observation, not an incarceration. Even during despair, joy is an option without an ounce of compromise, but it takes willingness, practice, and intention. It may not happen the first few times, but it will happen, and then there is a beautiful sense of relief and incoming possibility. Yoga strengthens the spirit and the spirit is resilient. Instead of holding onto the pain and discomfort of life, we can release it just as we release the tension of a yoga stretch and feel a surge of energy.

 

Metaphors in yoga abound. Warrior pose gives a sense of strength and rebellion in the face of adversity, tree pose grounds, focuses, and balances us, a forward fold takes us to the edge of our limitation where transformation is possible. The metaphors inspire the reality.

In these poses, we can be freed from any state in which we have found ourselves stuck including despair from current events.

Yoga doesn’t need to be a formal hour and a half class, it can be five minutes on the living room floor which will be more you do than waiting for the impetus, time, or opportunity to take a class. I break my resistance to starting my practice by giving myself permission to do just one downward facing dog. That’s the extrinsic motivation; once started, the desire to do more becomes intrinsic –- which is the more important and lasting motivation. I rarely stop there.

You can do yoga right now as you’re reading this by taking a breath in, arching the small of your back and opening your shoulders, holding it as long as you can, and releasing it with the breath out. Notice the difference with just that much. There, you did yoga today. Here’s a gold star for you.

 

There’s a freedom to be found in yoga that’s an even greater reward, whether it’s five minutes or eight years. It’s a breath and a stretch away. I wish that on you during this time where some of us feel trapped by anguish perpetrated by what’s happening to our country.

I still teach gentle yoga and its accompanying metaphors for creativity at my Taos Retreats. There’s one coming up February 7-11, 2026.

Namaste’

Jill

I am on Substack now. You can catch me there more frequently for free or buy a paid subscription and be invited to periodic creativity workshops for free.

Flowers in the Spanish Pyrenees

 Hi Friends,

You’ve heard of FOMO, (the Fear of Missing Out). I learned the term JOMO last week just in time for my unexpected trip overseas.

In an article I wrote a week and a half ago, I explained the dubious results of not paying attention to details when signing up for travel, but here’s quick synopsis if you’re not in the mood to check:

I didn’t realize the six-day hiking trip to Spain I booked for 2026 was … in 2025, (calendar challenged), which was a week away from the email I had just received from Backroads Active Adventure Travel saying, “Get ready for your trip next week!” [Enter trembling anxiety and an expression harsher than “Golly gosh!”]

Choices:

A. Don’t go because it’s so soon,( thus losing a truckload of money and the dream of hiking in Spain).

Or

B. Galvanize efforts, make plans rapido’, and seize the day. I took B for Barcelona.

“Ready-fire-aim” works swimmingly in the creative sphere because even if we think we aren’t ready, taking a small, crappy step can activate instinct, inspiration, and momentum, setting sail to our writing or art. I use ready-fire-aim with hesitating clients to help them move past avoidance and fear and watched them flourish. I’ve used it myself and consider it one of the main reasons I've accomplished what I have.

However, in this case, the variation on the Ready-Fire-Aim theme was definitely Unready-Fire-Aim because this was not an easy six-day hike I was to embark upon. No small, crappy step would get me in shape in a week for 10 miles a day of level 4 hiking.

My plan had been to get prepared by walking the hilly part of San Diego dailyish for five months. Instead, I walked on an inclined treadmill at the YMCA for five days … with delusional hopes.

The nice thing about this tour company is they offer options. You don’t have to hike every route, it’s just that every route has drop-dead views of mountain vistas, castle strewn valleys, and the turquoise Mediterranean. Not to mention meals and snacks that make your taste buds do somersaults. There’s no way I could do every route, so I was prepared for doing the 3-5 miles in the morning and missing out the second hike each day. What I wasn’t prepared for JOMO: Joy Of Missing Out.

 The six other hikers were made up of three couples; I was the only solo traveler which set me apart from the beginning. They hiked fast and talked constantly. They were pleasant enough but being a mindfulness devotee, I wanted to drink in all the senses of this beautiful exotic land I hadn’t seen before… not talk about children back home, the error made the night before by choosing the cod instead of the chicken, and what hike they would do next. I wasn’t there to socialize; I was there to be in awe (and eat fine food).

Being in less than stellar hiking condition, I lagged behind but because of that, was in full glory. There was an app that showed the way, so I didn’t get lost. I’d prefer doing the hike without the tour group but I wouldn’t know where to go and meals and accommodations wouldn’t be as convenient; this was the next best thing.

That was the first half of the day. Second half I opted to hang out at the premiere hotels. I had access to the spa, the pool, the beauty of a palatial resort, and … swimming in Mediterranean; something the other hikers wouldn’t have time for. Being a consummate introvert, I was in heaven. I wasn’t missing a thing because I turned off the voice that wanted to tell me I did.

It went on like this for the next five days. I was truly enjoying the amenities of where we were staying: a massage, the gardens at the hotel, walking back from a nearby town up in the Spanish Pyrenees, sitting at a little café painting chickens, and leaving them around for the town people to find and keep.

A few of the hikers mentioned they were envious of my alternate plans which I’m sure had something to do with the glee with which I related them instead of expressing regret for missing out of the spectacles they experienced.

I ‘ve employed JOMO frequently in the past, I just didn’t have the term for it. As a creative person, it’s important to protect my solitude. San Diego is filled with events, classes, and lovely people, but I know me, and if I’m not immersed in my writing or art a good amount of the time, I’ll be cranky.

Thinking differently is the hallmark of being original and creative. JOMO is a creative way of reframing our days and thus excelling at life. There is joy in freeing ourselves from the feeling of missing out, from regretting not socializing, and from wondering if it’s okay to stray away from the myriad of opportunities, hollow habits, and distractions that pull at our attention, and realizing that there is advantage to exactly where we are. With a creative mind, anything is an adventure.

If it’s not a natural feeling, it deserves practice by asking, “What would it feel like  to experience joy in exactly what I’m doing?” Your subconscious will rise to the occasion and answer it if you ask enough.

We can see life from many different angles. Finding the one that feels the best is one of the most creative things we can do to find the joy we are not missing out on.

My calves hurt but my head is happy,

Jill

Creator and trainer Kaizen-Muse Creativity Coaching Certification Training, Author/Illustrator of The Muse is In: An Owner's Guide to Your Creativity and three other funny books that are also helpful.. or maybe they are helpful books that are also funny.

www.themuseisin.com

Find me more frequently on Substack 

September 28-October 3
Wild Abandon Creativity at the Omega Institute
Do a little travel to the Hudson Valley in September and let’s write and make art with wild abandon among autumn colors and good food.
More info here .

This is a restack from Substack where I am more often these days. Hang our at this blog if you like posts less frequently

A few years ago I was diagnosed with ADHD. A friend I’ve known since I was fifteen tilted her head and groaned sympathetically when I told her, but I felt like dancing, (knowing I might knock over a cup of coffee — clumsy is one of the gifts in my kaleidoscope of ADHD).

You may have heard me refer to ADHD before. It’s not that I’m proud of it, but it EXPLAINS why I had so many difficulties over the years that made me feel I didn’t belong anywhere. Knowing that it’s at least partially responsible was a relief, and now can I understand things what I can do to be better or at least more accepting.

My brand comes with making impulsive decisions, not paying attention to details, and having poor impulse control when it comes to saying something out loud that really shouldn’t be said out loud. Some of these things led to difficulties in relationships and work, but all of them led to a deeper relationship with creativity and myself.

• • Impulsiveness kept me from hesitating which led to experiences I never would have had.

  • Impulsive decisions led me to volunteer for jobs I never would have taken if I had looked closely but which gave me skills, tenacity, and adaptibility.

  • Not paying attention to details gave me an artistic style I like.

  • Saying things that are usually stifled led to a lot of people feeling they weren’t alone and weeding out people who weren’t really friends anyway.

  • Work difficulties led me, after 17 years of working for someone else, to inventing my own profession which has been more rewarding than I ever imagined.

  • Relationship difficulties, including being alienated by my family, led me to being independent, absorbing myself in my creative profession, and finding how freeing it is to develop self-compassion.

  • Losing things - I can’t think of anything good about that.

None of this was done without pain, but as Paul Simon said, “My words trickle down from a wound I have no intention on healing.”

Pain is the gristle in the oyster’s shell. Creative output is the pearl. Research suggests that ADHD traits like divergent thinking, hyperfocus, and impulsivity also contribute to creative achievements.

I have this incredible assistant who helps me with my coaching training. She tells me when I’ve made typos, cited wrong dates, and dispensed incorrect assignments. These things happen weekly even when I think I’ve combed through details like a racoon looking for a chicken leg. It’s still frustrating. Hiring her was one of the best things I’ve ever done, and even though my ego hurts a bit when she points out yet another error, I know I would be a little lost without her. Thanks Shelly. The ego can sit and stare at itself while eating Leggos, I do better without it.

Too bad she wasn’t there when I made travel arrangements in April to go to Spain June of 2026…. 2026 is key here.

Which leads to what inspired this article. I decided to go to overseas with the tour company, Backroads. My Canadian husband and I didn’t want to risk him going because of the precariousness of getting back into the US if you’re not American. I got an email from that tour company this morning, May 24, that said: “Get ready! Your trip is next week.”

I thought, well, certainly that is a mistake THEY made. But then I had my usual, adrenaline-laced, “Uh oh.” I called them.

I’m going to Spain on Friday.

Love and Paella,

Jill