I was sure I was going to die before I reached the age of 30.

I am pretty sure all good hippies in the 70s believed the same thing.

When that didn’t happen, I was absolutely sure I would never see 50.

When my mom passed away at 70, just before my 50th birthday, there was not much of a celebration for reaching that milestone year. Her untimely death convinced me that even though I was still here, I was doomed to die like her, on or before my 70th birthday.

This summer, I turned 71 and I am happy to report that I’m still here.

I am also happy to report that I have given up trying to predict the date of my demise.

This summer I was supposed to take a much anticipated trip to Oaxaca and Mexico City. The famous Oaxacan culinary scene and visiting Frida Kahlo’s home have long been on my bucket list. Instead, this 71-year-old woman slipped on a skateboard and tore my hamstring, ending my dreams of dining on chicken mole and painting the blue azure shutters surrounded by the brightly colored garden of my favorite artist’s home.

Those plans were replaced by an offer to house sit in Santa Barbara, California, where I could enjoy a staycation visiting pristine beaches and Michelin Star restaurants.

I bet you have guessed by now that those plans also feel through. 

Life’s journey is never one that you can predict.

“The best-laid plans of mice and men oft’ go awry…and leave us nothing but grief and pain, For promised joy!” writes Robert Burns in his famous poem “To A Mouse.”

Predicting the future, making plans, dreaming of or fearing what is to come next are natural human tendencies.

Our bucket list longings and nightmare premonitions will either move us forward in joyful anticipation or hold us back out of fear of what could go wrong.

I have finally learned, after an unexpected 71 years on the planet, to go with the flow.

As Margaret Atwood advises in her poem “Morning in the Burned House,” “I just sit where I am put, composed of stone and wishful thinking.”

After whining to my boss and friend about my recent disappointments, she sent me a text with a phrase she had learned in her yoga class, and I am sharing these profound words of wisdom with you. I hope they will help you let go of your disappointments and live in the joys of the moment.

Be forewarned. These words could change your life:

“Be where your feet are.”

You are all invited to my 72nd birthday party. I hope you can make plans to join me. I hope I will be there!

Until then, let’s all be happy right where we are.

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