Thanks for this lovely post about your birthday celebration. I will celebrate (hopefully) my 60th birthday in April, and have been pondering what to do about it. My children ask me "what do you want to do?" and I keep answering, "I need to think about it."

When we were last together, you reminded me that in Africa, women of a certain age are treated as wise, and are given respect. Also, that women of a certain age become everyone's mother, and we can correct the mistakes and bad behavior of the children around us, (biological children, and children whose bodies have grown, but are children none the less.)

I still don't know what I will do for my birthday, but I'm going to submit a poem to you that burst from my heart last month, written in an incredibly short time. It speaks to me about my journeys and gives me reasons to laugh, sigh, cry, rest, celebrate.

Happy belated Birthday dear friend, with love, Susan

Autobiography in Fourteen Lines

Susan Ollar

I went searching everywhere, trying to make sense of things

I went searching high and low trying to make sense of things

I tripped on acid, smoked dope, rode the mescaline high, trying to make sense of things

I became a vegetarian, wore white, chanted mantras and thought I’d made sense of things

It didn’t last

I went to empowerments, sat on a cushion in the mountains for a month, trying to make sense of things

I got bored, watched the stories of my mind, tried to create more stories to destroy the boredom and it seemed to work. It all made sense.

It didn’t last

I dropped the search, left it on a shelf, went off to the world, searching for success

I found success, it was a hard trip and when I got to the summit, I fell down a hole and nothing made sense

I started the search again, tired, feeling feeble, this time knowing I needed a guide, someone who had made sense of things

I found him, oh my, hard to believe, I’ve gotta believe, he’s been my everything, year after year after year

Nothing makes sense, I sit on my cushion, it’s all right!

I look within, the stories go on, who cares?

Julia, Doreen, Freida...you all are truly goddess. And, there are many more in the world.

Janet