In 2010, my husband turned 60, and and a year and a half later, it still doesn’t seem real to me.  Back then, we were training for a marathon, and had just returned from a western Caribbean cruise during which we climbed a very steep and muddy mountain together in Roatán, and where he led the pack riding all-terrain vehicles (ATVs) through the jungles of Cozumél.  Either he’s signing me up for something or I’m signing him up for something. (The marathon was my idea. Ouch.)

I’m 11 years younger than my husband, and he’s my role model on physical health.  He eats right, he takes his vitamins, he lifts weights, and lately, he’s sporting a six-pack.

He’s also my role model in so many other things.  He continually rises to the challenges that life, work and his wife put before him, and he handles them all with a grace and equanimity that I admire.

My point?  It doesn’t matter how chronologically old you are.  It’s how old you choose to be that matters.

The same is true about all the other facets of your life.  You’re as rich as you think you are…you’re as beautiful as you think you are…you’re as happy as you think you are.

This thinking, though, is a pursuit.  My husband meditates virtually every day, spending focused energy and time on creating the mental, emotional and spiritual states he wants to experience in his life.

Because ultimately, that’s all we have: our ability—and willingness!—to modify our perceptions of our world and our experience of and response to it.

My husband has routinized and even ritualized this focus in his practice of daily living.  He’s decohering his youth/happiness/love/peace on a daily basis.

I’m still working on that part.  How about you?

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