I have always loved the lotus.
Rooted in mud beneath the surface of the water, it grows upward toward the light. Eventually it breaks through and blossoms.
Lately, that image has taken on an entirely new meaning for me.
At 78, I am still growing.
Not because there is something wrong with who I am.
Not because I need to reinvent myself one more time.
And certainly not because I am trying to become some idealized version of myself.
I am growing because I am alive.
And living things continue to reach toward the light.
Growth Doesn’t Have an Expiration Date
Our culture has some peculiar ideas about aging.
We often talk about later life as though its primary purpose is to preserve what remains.
Stay healthy.
Stay independent.
Stay active.
All worthwhile intentions.
But what about becoming more alive?
What about curiosity?
New friendships?
New learning?
New ways of loving?
New opportunities to contribute?
New spiritual understanding?
New adventures?
What if healthy aging isn’t merely about maintaining ourselves?
What if it is also about continuing to unfold?
That possibility excites me.
My Life Is Still Teaching Me
I am midway through my meditation teacher training with Davidji, and these months of study have opened doors I didn’t even know were waiting to be opened.
I have immersed myself in meditation, mindfulness, Ayurveda, yoga philosophy, Buddhist teachings, the Bhagavad Gita, the Upanishads and the wisdom of contemporary teachers.
And something unexpected has happened.
The more I learn, the less interested I am in accumulating information.
I want to live it.
I want ancient wisdom to change the way I eat breakfast.
The way I listen to another person.
The way I respond when something goes wrong.
The way I care for my body.
The way I teach.
The way I love.
The way I grow older.
Knowledge becomes wisdom only when it enters our lives.
Growing Toward Wholeness
The work of the late physician and neurologist Dr. David Simon has become especially meaningful to me because he understood healing and well-being as an integration of body, mind and spirit.
That feels increasingly aligned with the life I want to live.
Ayurveda teaches me to notice balance.
Meditation teaches me to become quiet enough to listen.
Yoga philosophy asks me to practice what I discover.
Mindfulness brings me back to the only place life is actually happening:
Here.
This breath.
This body.
This moment.
Perhaps spiritual growth isn’t about transcending our humanity.
Perhaps it is about inhabiting it more completely.
We Can Grow Without Grasping
There is an important distinction I am learning.
Growth doesn’t have to mean striving.
The yogic principle of **aparigraha—non-grasping, non-clinging—**has become increasingly important in my life.
I can grow without chasing.
I can desire without demanding.
I can have dreams without making my happiness dependent upon their fulfillment.
I can take action without controlling the outcome.
I can teach wholeheartedly without knowing where it will lead.
I can nurture friendships and welcome new relationships without forcing connection.
I can remain open to a beloved without believing I need someone else to make my life whole.
That may be one of the greatest freedoms I have discovered:
I can be whole and still be growing.
The two are not opposites.
The Lotus Doesn’t Force the Blossom
A lotus doesn’t stand beneath the water worrying about whether it will bloom.
It responds to life.
It takes nourishment from where it is planted.
It moves toward the light.
And when the conditions are right, it opens.
There is something deeply reassuring about that.
I don’t have to force the next chapter of my life.
I don’t need to know exactly where my teaching will lead, which opportunities will appear, which friendships will deepen, where I will eventually live, or who may walk beside me.
My work is simpler.
Show up.
Be present.
Listen.
Stay curious.
Take the next aligned step.
And release my attachment to what happens afterward.
Still Becoming, Already Whole
Perhaps this is what I most want to say about conscious and healthy aging:
We are not finished.
There is no age at which curiosity must stop.
No age at which love becomes irrelevant.
No age at which we cease discovering ourselves.
No age at which we can no longer contribute something meaningful.
And no age at which life stops inviting us deeper.
I am not trying to turn back the clock.
I don’t want to be younger.
I want to be fully alive at the age I am.
Present in this body.
Grateful for this life.
Open to love.
Open to friendship.
Open to learning.
Open to whatever wants to emerge next.
Like the lotus, I can honor where I have been without remaining there.
I can root myself deeply in the life I have actually lived.
And I can keep turning toward the light.
Not because something essential is missing.
But because this is what it means to be alive.
Still growing.
Still opening.
Still becoming.
Already whole.
With love,
Sandi
