Stepping Into Newness: Rediscovering Ourselves

“I’m not dead yet!” This cry should be familiar to those around my age and recognized as a popular Monty Python line. It makes me snicker as I think about how I feel as I enter the latter part of my days. The future is not dim, as I feel more alive than ever. Rather, I see the days before me as charged with excitement. I possess new eyes that see brighter colors and can pierce a different kind of darkness. My ears hear whispers of words where it once was only noise. Life feels fresh as I choose a path of stepping into newness rather than settling into a comfy couch and fading into the dark.

Nearly every day, I’m reminded of some of the reasons why I started a magazine in my 50s. Yesterday, it was acorns. For the last couple of weeks, the acorns have been falling out of trees like a slow rain and hitting the road with a POP! reminiscent of the little snappers we’d throw on the sidewalk as kids. Usually, I just walk over or around them, but yesterday, I looked AT them. Nearly all the acorns had detached from their little tops leaving these adorable acorn “hats” all scattered in every direction. “How have I not noticed these before?!“

One of the reasons I started the magazine is because I wanted to embrace all the little joys around me instead of chasing a happiness that seems to always be just out of reach. Part of that, is the fresh enjoyment of nature. I only had one hand available (as I was walking my dog), but I scooped up as many acorns as I could. As I clutched them close to my body I thought, “This is Paola Lane.”

As I mentioned, one of the reasons I started the magazine came from my desire to notice “acorns” (i.e. the little things), another was to rediscover myself. Launching a magazine was a total adventure and beyond anything I had the skill or capacity to do, but I was excited. I had looked up from the duties of motherhood and wondered who I was and where to go from here.

The last time I had taken a breath to slowly and intentionally ponder anything other than raising my son or tending to a present life crisis, was before I was married. In those days, I was unencumbered by any responsibilities other than for myself. I was eager to discover what adventure might be in front of me. Then the next twenty five years were a blur of being all-in raising another human being and pulling myself out of life’s pits. The, suddenly, on a Saturday in January 2022, I unloaded my son’s bags at college and my life as it had been came to an abrupt stop. In one day, I looked at a world with which I was not familiar. I noticed how my soul and body felt worn-out (or at least used up). At the same time, I understood this was a crossroads, a bridge, path, door—a threshold—to stepping into newness. It was as if everything behind me was tired but what was in front was fresh and unspoiled.

In one day, I looked out at a world with which I was not familiar. I noticed how my soul and body felt worn-out (or at least used up). At the same time, I understood this was a threshold to stepping into newness. It was as if everything behind me was tired but what was in front was fresh and unspoiled.

It wasn’t overwhelming at all. In fact, I felt a youthful excitement reawaken for adventure—but my idea of adventure looked a little different than when I was in my 20s: I wanted to make the most out of life, take pleasure in simple things, learn the value of slow living, drink deeply of every step of life. I was tired of running—which is what motherhood feels like, even though motherhood is filled with immense joy and blessing (an honor that goes beyond anything else on this earth). Now, I felt a shift and understood I needed to relearn how to live, because life isn’t just different in this season…it’s on another level.

I had to learn to walk again in order to awaken wisdom. I had to learn to see again to go beyond the surface (and to notice the trees and grass, and there discovered a wealth of wisdom!). I gained and appreciated knowledge but craved wisdom. Every day became about learning to live again, one dawdling (but deliberate) movement at a time.

Personally, I find this season to be incredibly exciting and intoxicating! So much so that I feel a bit sorry for younger women who are still either pursuing career ideas, trying to find themselves, or raising kids. Not that it’s bad. Those years are beautiful and shouldn’t be skipped or wished away. But, they are living in “The Blur” phase of life. I don’t miss The Blur. I love the intentionality of life in my 50s (LOVE it!). I call it “slower” living, though my days are still incredibly full, but it feels slower because I’m incredibly AWARE of the depth, wisdom, and joy of each moment.

Do I miss the season of the past? Yes! I miss rocking my son to sleep or hearing him giggle and sing in his room. My greatest joy was seeing his delight when we’d visit a museum or zoo. I had far more fun shopping for his favorite toys (dinosaurs) or buying him an ice cream cone (or eel at the seafood counter). I miss those days with everything in me. I haven’t stopped being a mom; it simply looks different. Now, I text him a few nights a week to let him know I love him. And our conversations flip-flop between one-word responses (“good”) and an hours-long discussion on social issues, spiritual matters, poetry, history, or a myriad of amazing topics.

I’m still pouring into him by letting him see how I’m searching out the joys in my own life. He sees me as I struggle to create and rediscover myself. I’m letting him see that excitement and zeal for life isn’t just for the young in years.

I’m still my son’s mom. The only difference is that I’m not sitting at home waiting for him or managing every aspect of his life. Instead, he’s got a mom who’s excited about what’s in front of me, experiencing joy on a deeper level, learning different skills, pursuing new interests, and eager to embrace the newness of each day, just as my son is in a similar season of discovery, vision, and excitement. Except…at his stage of life, as a young adult, he and others his age have years of pits and struggles, navigating the maze of developing right relationships, and pouring themselves out to raise the next generation. He has years of hard yet meaningful living ahead of him. I’m on the other side of that obstacle course staring at a different adventure a little farther up the mountain. Except now I carry with me some experience that is more precious than all the world’s gold. I’m eager for a different kind of adventure. My journey is just beginning!

Tips For Stepping Into Newness With Joy

Acknowledge you’re in a new season and that to embrace what’s in front of you, there needs to be a letting go of the ways things were.
Give yourself grace to transition from the always-on years of motherhood to relating to your children as adults. It takes time. The first semester of college, if I didn’t hear from my son every single day via text, I had a panic attack. It was a slow transition for me to find the right frequency and flow of connectivity with my son, and honoring the space he needs to discover himself.
Take time to be still. Invite stillness as a regular practice into your life.
Spend more time in nature. The outdoors has a way of recalibrating our body and soul and clearing the fog out of our mind.
Start small. In other words, find something that interests you and do something to build a bit of intrigue on that subject to see where it leads.
Make sleep and rest a priority.
Find resources and books on slow living. Discover what slow living looks like for you.
Buy magazines on topics that interest you and take the time to read them.
Think about what used to light you up as a young person…before you were married. Does it still light you up? If not, what causes a spark inside of you now? Use it to find a hobby or start a business.
Share with your adult children what you are exploring. Invite them into conversations on those subjects.
Read a book on a subject your children are interested in or studying themselves. Then, engage in conversations with them about it. Let them share with you what they know and what they think.
Pay attention to your random thoughts and write them down, even if it doesn’t make sense.
Write down dreams you have at night.
Read more. Walk more.
Create a studio, library, or other “personal space”. This is SO important to rediscovery. If you already have one, REARRANGE it or give it a makeover.
Take the risk.
Wear brighter colors.
Embrace a bit of whimsy and silliness.
Carry somberness and severity in a blanket of peace and wisdom.
Pursue wisdom over knowledge, understanding over information, and intimacy with God versus piety.