The Third Act

I will be 55 this week, halfway through this decade. It's not a milestone with a big celebration, but it is giving me some feels. I don't have any particularly unique worries about ageing; I am surrounded by lovely women, many of them older than me, and I see how vibrant, fun and connected they are. They are hiking and dancing and singing and caring for loved ones. Some have taken sabbaticals, their adult gap years, and are finding themselves in nature and solitude and the soothing saltiness of the ocean. Some have opted out of obligations, others are leaning in. I love all the ways of being that I get to witness.

The feels I am having feel like ... excitement? Opportunity? There is a sense of giddiness, a letting go of habits and patterns and caring so much. Freedom is the word that I keep coming back to.

I listened to an interview with Jane Fonda, and then watched her TED talk about our third act of life, which, depending on who you ask, starts in your 50s or 60s. She is passionate about embracing this third act as a way of reclaiming our childhood selves, the little girls who played and didn't worry about how they looked or who they pleased. The little girls before they became the teens who wanted to fit in, and curbed their ways to suit the rules of others.

In story-telling, the beginning of the third act is referred to as 'the dark night of the soul'; a final crisis, the tipping point that forces the protaganist to make a change, take a chance. We don't need a character in a fictitious story to know how often this happens at this stage of life - it is there in caring for elderly parents, the sudden health scare, adult children keeping us awake with their choices, the shifting sands of long term partnership, our own bodies seemingly turning against us. The demons of our pasts.

So many demons!!

When faced with any or all of these things, what do we do? What are we forced to do, to survive? Perhaps we wallow, cry, deny. But then we are transformed (usually unwillingly), as we learn, adapt and either lean in or opt out. Whether we accept or resist, there is no escaping the fact that life has changed and that this third act is vastly different to the first.

What I see in the women around me is such bravery as they face these changes. Grace when it would be so easy to be rude. Generosity when surely their own tanks are running on reserve. Sometimes they are not their best selves, which is refreshing in its honesty. We have tears and overwhelm and heartbreak.

This is all part of the process of transformation, of moving from one act to the next. A clarifying, if you like, of the self.

As I move deeper into my fifties, I am learning about how and why I think the way I do, and how that has been influenced by upbringing, relationships, expectations. We are all shaped by our environment, for better or worse. In this third act, the goal is to leave behind the things that are no longer of use - such as ruminating, blaming, expecting things to be different - and moving towards experiences and people that bring joy, purpose and depth to life.

The process is flawed, of course. The best stories are full of challenges for the protagonist to overcome, each a small chapter that guides us closer to who we are becoming.

If you were writing your own third act, what would you like to see? How would you like to tie up the narrative threads of the past, and propel the protagonist into the sort of future that would leave no regrets?

I leave you, whether you are in your first, second or third act, with this quote by Carl Bard: Although no-one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.

With love,

❤️

Amanda xx

PS A reminder that our playful Day Retreat of Yoga + Pottery is on Saturday

7 November, 10am to 4pm. It will be a fun day to stretch, relax, switch out of doing and into being and creating mode. More details here. I can't wait to see you there! 🥰