I’ve just moved from Fort Wayne, Indiana to San Francisco, California, just eight days ago—from relatively flat land to a city that has almost no flat land.
This morning I walked to the bank from my brother, Casey, and sister-in-law, Kristy’s house. The bank is located a little over a mile away, some uphill, mostly downhill, which means (of course) that the walk back is some downhill, mostly uphill. What I want to write about is the thoughts that came to me while I was walking.
The thoughts that came to me during the walk were about the automatic assumptions we hold in our society about aging, and how many of them we buy into without even knowing it. They cause us to stop trusting our bodies. (Which came first—the fall, or the question, asked by every receptionist in every medical facility of anyone over 60, “have you fallen recently?” I know, I know, falls are real, but what I realize is that I began being more careful/scared/having some sort of expectation that it might happen when that question began to be asked of me.)
I’ve begun questioning each thought that I hold about myself. Is it true? Or is it false? If it is true, is it true because I’ve bought in to an idea that’s attached to my age and changed my behavior to match it. I unravel that thread and find the origin.
Twenty-seven years ago, I travelled to Peru with a small group led by an archeology professor. One of the experiences I had was held in the Peruvian Amazon and was guided by a Shaman. I took Ayahuasca, a psychedelic brew that stimulated a profound internal experience. In it the interior of my body was presented to me as if it were an operating circus—cells were both performing and experiencing. There was a ringmaster and every single cell was delighted—joyful—doing the work of being/creating/living as this body. I was in awe of how absolutely joyful they were living their daily life to create this body and perform the functions it takes to make me be this me in the world.
As I walked this morning, I was reminded about that trip, about how joyful the cells in my body were to be doing the work they do. I also felt in the moment, the cells of my body being grateful that I trust them to be able to do whatever is needed in all these uphill walks I’m taking. I stop plenty to rest. Strangers walking by see me stopped, breathing hard and laughing, and they always smile and say something like: “resting is allowed.” Some laugh right along with me.
I’ve rented space in a house that is three blocks downhill from my brother and sister-in-law’s house. Currently, I’m staying with them and walking down every day to help paint my bedroom and get it ready to receive me and my furniture. (The rest of the house is furnished.) My bedroom is located on the third floor, with kitchen and meditation room on the first floor, and laundry in the basement. I’ve moved from a modified mid-century ranch style house with no stairs to a whole bunch of stairs!
This move is not a whim. It has come from the deepest part of me (is that where God exists?). I’ll write more about that another time.
“Grace isn’t just the good things that happen to you — it’s everything that shapes you into a higher version of yourself.” Christopher Lowman, Daily Good, June 16, 2026
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