Photo Courtesy of Paul Shepherd

Last week, I turned the big 5-0. As my half-century approached like a bullet train, my Gemini mind—forever flitting about in the ether—couldn’t help but reflect on the fifty years behind me, and the ones, if I’m lucky, still to come.

I’ll admit, there’s been quite the build-up to this milestone. I’m not sure what I expected—fireworks, a grand awakening, or maybe just a lightning bolt of miraculous insight. Instead, what I’ve noticed is subtler: a gentle turning of the inner soil as fifty years of memories flash by like a highlight reel, complete with a handful of questionable life choices and hairdos best left in the past.

Looking back, it’s hard to fathom all the varied chapters, resurrections, obstacles, and triumphs. Human resilience and reinvention are truly remarkable, especially when you consider what one mere mortal can experience in a lifetime. I’ve packed a lot into this first half-century: leaving home at 14, moving to Melbourne at 20, landing a degree by 24, touring with a rock band and releasing albums by 30, traveling the world, living in Japan, London, Spain, India, and Bali, welcoming the most magnificent little human into my life at 37, diving into marriage twice (first time: a short ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ version; second time: still happily married and giving it a red-hot go to keep it moving in that direction), and navigating an epic spiritual quest along the way. And, of course, all the wild bits in between—best left out for plausible deniability.

I’ve also had the privilege of studying under extraordinary teachers and masters from various wisdom traditions over the past three decades, and passing on what I’ve learned as a life-long student, teacher, coach, and therapist to thousands of amazing humans—on mats, at retreats, and over countless cups of tea.

As I reflect, I notice how my values have shifted. The things I used to sweat over have faded. Things like not fitting the mould of popular culture or opinion, grey hair, wrinkles, keeping up with trends, having the “perfect” life. What matters now is much simpler: kindness, honest conversation, true connection, the ability to get over stuff quickly, and the capacity to laugh at myself (a skill I’ve honed to Olympic levels).

There’s a freedom in turning 50 I didn’t expect. I care less about being judged and more about being of service. I seek the approval of others less, and cultivate a self I’m happy to approve of more. I’m less interested in chasing elusive perfection and more interested in seeing perfection in things as they are—even when they’re messy, heartbreaking, or uncertain. Accepting the impermanence of the things I love most has been a challenge, but as I relax into 50, the reality of our fleetingness makes me love harder and dive deeper into a few quality pleasures, rather than chasing many fleeting ones.

So what’s next? What might this next half-century hold? (Besides more reading glasses, books, and an ever-expanding tea collection.)

I’d hoped to publish my magnum opus by 50, but instead, I’ve published something unexpected: Yoga Therapy: The Kosha Evaluation Method and the HIMAP Approach. Not quite the rockstar memoir I imagined, but hefty nonetheless. I chose to publish this first because I wholeheartedly believe in this work…and see a great need for it.

Fifty years on this planet has taught me that if you can be of service in any way, do. Life is both long and short. The days can crawl, but the years fly, and insight hoarded is insight wasted. I’ve learned that (yoga aside) laughter truly is the best medicine, that good friendships need nurturing (and that some old friendships must fall away to make room for new ones), and that self-compassion isn’t just yoga lingo—it’s a survival skill.

I’ve learned that my body is a wise, ever-changing companion, worthy of me listening to it, and heeding to its voice with great honour and care. She’s carried me through joy, heartbreak, adventure, pregnancy, and the everyday grind. Yes, there are more aches and lines today, but there’s also a deepening gratitude for all she’s allowed me to experience.

Reflecting on these five decades, I see how the path of yoga, especially its ethical foundations—yama and niyama—have quietly shaped my life. Here are ten lessons, inspired by these ancient teachings, that have helped sculpt me, and which I hope will continue to guide me forward into the next half-century:

1. Be gentle with yourself. The world is rough enough—no need to add self-roasting to the mix. Others will judge and criticise you—even those who profess to love you most. Let them, but let your inner voice be kind and loving. Life is too precious to entertain cruelty, stinginess, or bitterness. We all have the capacity to choose kindness, compassion, and forgiveness—why waste time on anything else?

2. Speak your truth (with kindness), but listen more. As the adage goes, we have two ears and one mouth so we can listen more than we speak. Sometimes the most honest thing we can do is simply listen and acknowledge we don’t have all the answers. Often, truth emerges in silence and stillness. Within authenticity, integrity, and loyalty to truth awaits freedom.

3. Don’t rob yourself of joy by comparing your lot to others. The grass will be greenest on the side of the fence you water. Acknowledge your uniqueness and appreciate the uniqueness of others. As Dr. Seuss said, “Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.” Be you, and trust that by being the kindest version of yourself, life will find a way to return the kindness—sooner or later.

4. Use your energy wisely. Invest your energy into what nourishes your spirit, not what drains it.

5. Let go of heavy baggage—things, people, stances, or unrealistic ideals. Clinging onto things makes us rigid and tight. Let go of grudges and disappointments. They taint the present and suffocate the good vibes.

6. Keep your mind, body, and environment clear. Take note of where toxic loads might be hiding—whether in your diet, substances, relationships, home, or thoughts. Simplicity is a balm for both soul and sanity. Nourish yourself with clean food, honour your body as a temple, nurture the relationships that uplift you, and gently release those that drain you. Declutter your surroundings and refresh your mental landscape. A little mindful pruning can make space for so much more light.

7. Find joy in the present moment. Gratitude turns what we have into enough. Sometimes “enough” is just putting one foot in front of the other, and as the ever-wise Buddhist monk Ajahn Brahm suggests, mentally repeat the mantra: “Minutes, Not Months.” Focus on the now, and let each moment be its own reward.

8. Keep showing up for yourself, even when it’s hard. Growth lives on the other side of discomfort—and sometimes in the bottom of a tub of ice cream.

9. Stay curious about yourself. The journey inward is the most epic adventure of all. No passport required. Perhaps the greatest thing we can gift ourselves—not just on big birthdays, but every day—is the gift of clear intent. Clear intent is like an arrow of energy, propelling us forward in our direction of choice, re-railing us when we get derailed. With clear intent, we are better equipped to step into a new chapter gracefully and equanimously.

10. Trust, and surrender to the natural unfolding of things. Be clear about what you’re loyal to, and hand over the reins to something greater than this mortal coil. Life is wiser than our plans, and sometimes the detours are the best part. In the insightful words of Yogi Bhajan, “You surrender to a lot of things which are not worthy of you. I wish you would surrender to your radiance, your integrity, your beautiful human grace.” 

If you’re still reading this and have wisdom to share about entering your current  chapter, I’d love to hear it. If you’ve made it to 30, 40, 50, or 60, what have you loved about stepping into your new era, and what have you loathed (if anything)? What did you let fall away, and what did you nurture a little bit more?

So here’s to turning whatever it is you’re turning this year! As the cliché goes, “age is just a number”—and if you’re still able to consciously breathe, with the possibility of starting again, you’re winning. Celebrate every wrinkle, bump, and skin fold, as a badge of wisdom. To me, birthdays are nature’s way of telling us to slow down, and eat more cake!