This has been a time for reinvention for me, sometimes I am conscious of it, sometimes I am not. As I begin to be old – I turned 68 last summer – and had my first real brush with mortality a year earlier – open heart surgery – I understood that I had some choices to make.

My life as a book writer was in turmoil (publishing as I knew it vanished in a whirl one day) and I know know all the people in the pharmacy by their first names. I was divorced and alone, and a wreck.

My life is bounded by what I cannot do, for the first time, as well as what I can do. Some mornings, I wake up feeling a bit over, passed by, wondering what the next phase of my life would be, now that I was no longer Superman, capable of anything. It seems something different hurts a bit each day.

So I began the process of Reinvention, and peeking out from the other side, I am happy with the results. My life, it turns out, it is not over, it has just really begun.

For one thing, I decided not to give up on love, and I found it. For another, I began to re-create myself as a writer. If publishers weren’t lining up to beat my door down any longer, and Oprah wasn’t calling me,  I could be my own publisher, write what I wanted, escape the hoary marketing departments. I started this blog, and there are four million visits a year now.

For the first time in my life as a professional writer, nobody is telling me what to write.  How cool is that.

I got help. I found a good therapist. Help me to reinvent myself, I asked, I want to decide how I will live the rest of my life. Help me to see what is keeping me from the life I want. I always felt I had to do it alone. But I was wrong. There is help if you need it.

I started a subscription and voluntary payment program and people are beginning to pay me for my work, an immensely satisfying and liberating change. I am worth something, even at my age, perhaps especially at my age. I declared bankruptcy and faced reality. A literal reinvention.

I am worshiping at the altar of acceptance. Bureaucrats and marketers and doctors do not define me, society does not get to tell me who I am. It is, for me, an age of limits, of letting go. And it is an age of wisdom and understanding and patience. I am getting a warm sense of humor. We can always laugh, we must never forget to do it. In some ways, I see a lot of the bad genes die off as I age. I am not into fighting, rebelling, resenting much.

And yes, I am making love. I love it. Some things never have to die.

I am making good friends, I love them and they love me. Funny thing about love, once you start doing it, it becomes somewhat infectious. It is better than all of the alternatives.

Jane messaged me this morning, she was worried about her husband Peter, she is making him read my columns on mortality. I hope he doesn’t see it as homework. He is my age, but depressed about it. He feels worthless and left behind, he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He speaks poorly of his life.

I am not depressed about life, I am realistic, hopeful, determined. I have no intention of lying around and letting the worms of the world eat me or bring me down.

I hope he reinvents himself. It is possible, at any age. Life at any age is not simple, I would rather be old than young. I like knowing something about life. I love teaching, something that is part and parcel of my reinvention. Finally, I have something worse passing on, and the honor and glory of getting older is the opportunity to share the Elixir picked up on the hero journey. I do it whenever I can.

My life is not a straight line. I am doing many of the things I swore I would never do, and doing many more things I never imagined doing. I do not focus on what I have lost, but what I have gained. It is not about what I can’t do but what I can do, and that is a beautiful long list, long enough for several lifetimes: love, teach, write, take photos, herd sheep with dogs, teach writing, take  walks, go to movies, write books, blog.

I have a joyous and loving partner, we face the world together, in every way. This love will never die.

I am just beginning to become the writer I hoped to be, and was meant to be. I feel it in my bones, my blog has guided me there. My readers have nourished me here.

Reinvention is another word for resurrection, and there we stand at the crossroads, given the choice to live and love life, or to be consumed by it. My life is what I make of it, and we are not the victims of fate, but the shapers of fate. I do believe that.

Do not ever speak poorly of your life, it almost certainly is listening. I am grateful for life. I will take you in my hands and my heart and I will love you, again and again.