getting ready for my supernova era

Tomorrow is the first day of my birth month: I celebrate my birthday on July 16th. It’s not a big birthday — I’ll be turning 58 — but I’m feeling particularly jazzed to celebrate it this year. I won’t be celebrating it in a huge, blow-out kind of way (because I’m not a huge, blow-out kind of girl), but maybe I’ll enjoy it by creating a Month of Daily Delights. Things like … I don’t know … days where I wear the clothes I’ve been saving for a “special occasion.” Or perhaps I’ll take myself to a few favourite museums. Or maybe I’ll get a facial! (I’ve never had a facial! What even is a facial?). Things like that. It’s going to be a great month.

I’ve also been thinking about my friend Jonathan Fields and his 2x20 project. Last year, when Jonathan turned 58, he decided that he would spend the next two years answering the following question:

What might I learn, do, or build in the next two years that would center the 20 that follow around simplicity, significance, and joy?

I. Love. This.

There’s something about turning 58 that feels sort of “cusp-y“ — 60 suddenly starts appearing on the horizon, misty and not yet in clear focus, but undeniably there. In my life, between now and then, there’s some change coming: Alex will be entering her final year of university in a few weeks and planning her own future, all while Marcus and I will be planning ours, likely in a whole new country. And that’s over and above the fact that age 60 feels like the beginning of life’s third act: the time all the learnings of life come together and are used for resolution. There’s so much potential that lies ahead, and I want to make that third act resplendent.

Last week, I made a new friend (delight!) — Brooke Baldwin. Over coffee, she shared the concept of “liminal spaces,” and I thought again about Jonathan’s 2x20 Project. Jonathan describes the years between 58 and 60 as “a beautiful microseason,” and I think he’s right: it is, in effect, a liminal space that allows for taking stock of all that life has demonstrated that you’re capable of doing, and setting you up well to take on your third act. And I’m into it.

So after my month of delights, for the next two years and riffing off of Jonathan’s project, I want to ask myself this question:

What might I learn, do, or build in the next two years that would allow my inner light to go supernova in my third act?

My very funny friend, Alice Bradley, once told me that she believes that as we get older, we become more raisin-like. But even though I laughed, it turns out she wasn’t talking about physically: she believes that as we age, we become a more and more concentrated version of ourselves — the way a raisin is a more concentrated version of a grape. I like to think it’s also similar to the way the core of a star, at the end of its life, collapses in on itself and becomes incredibly dense, before exploding as a supernova.

Because this sounds like an amazing way to go.

So I don’t know what the answer to my question above is … yet … but I suspect that for me, going supernova will be centered around love — love of friends, family, strangers, neighbours (both immediate and global). At the end of my third act, I hope that when my spirit has been reduced to its most concentrated version of itself and I’m facing death, all that’s left is love. I’m not sure in what form that will manifest, but that’s certainly the goal. And the next two years, I want to explore what I can learn, do, or build that will set me up for making that happen. It’s not about huge financial success or anything like that — but it will be about how I can live and create in a way that leads, always and unrelentingly, with love.

This may sound a bit Pollyanna-ish, but if I’m being honest, it’s what I want at my core. So that’s what I’ll be thinking about this month, and the next couple of years to come.