Society has trained us to worship perfection. We strive for the perfect mate, the perfect home, the perfect career, the perfect body… which sets us up to be perpetually dissatisfied with ourselves and the world.

And it doesn’t have to be this way. Especially when it comes to aging.

Many years ago, I was introduced to a Japanese aesthetic known as Wabi Sabi. This ancient concept honors all things old, worn, weathered, imperfect, and impermanent by finding beauty in the imperfections.

For example, imagine a beautiful vase with a big crack down the middle. Rather than throwing it away, a Japanese artist might repair the crack with gold, transforming what was once considered a flaw into the most interesting and beautiful part of the vase. This art form, called kintsugi, is a wonderful expression of Wabi Sabi.

Now imagine if we could see ourselves that way.

Instead of viewing our wrinkles, sagging skin, gray hair, and changing bodies as evidence of decline, what if we saw them as evidence of a life well lived?

Of course, I’d be lying if I said I loved every aspect of getting older.

Somewhere along the way, aging became something we’re supposed to fight.

We’re encouraged to wage war on wrinkles, battle belly fat, defy gravity, and turn back the clock.

Frankly, I’m exhausted just thinking about it.

And gravity? Gravity is undefeated. I’ve discovered that certain body parts now require a forwarding address.

My mirror and I don’t always agree about what I should look like, and there are days when I wonder who that older woman staring back at me could possibly be.

And let’s not forget the occasional senior moment when you walk into a room and have absolutely no idea why you’re there. (Although I prefer to think of this as an opportunity to get in a few extra steps.)

But the physical changes are only part of the story.

Aging also brings challenges that no clever joke can soften.

Our bodies become less forgiving. Health issues can arrive without warning. Recovery takes longer. People we love die. Dreams change shape. And time, which once seemed limitless, becomes something we hold with greater tenderness.

I’ve had my own reminders recently that our bodies are not invincible. There are moments when life hands us experiences we never imagined having to navigate. And while I wouldn’t wish those experiences on anyone, they’ve left me with an even deeper appreciation for the simple, ordinary miracle of waking up each morning and getting another day to love the people I love.

There’s no amount of positive thinking that makes the difficult parts of aging disappear.

And yet…

There are extraordinary gifts that come with growing older that rarely get the attention they deserve.

For starters, there’s FREEDOM.

The glorious freedom of no longer needing everyone to like us. Of being able to say NO without writing a three-page explanation. Of understanding that someone else’s opinion of us is not necessarily our business.

There’s the freedom to stop chasing things we never really wanted in the first place.

And the delicious freedom of realizing that we’re no longer auditioning for anyone’s approval.

Then there’s WISDOM.

Not the kind you get from reading books or attending seminars, but the kind that can only be earned by living long enough to have your heart broken, your plans derailed, your expectations shattered—and discovering that somehow, life continues to offer beauty, joy, and unexpected possibilities.

We learn that being right isn’t nearly as important as being kind.

That some relationships are worth repairing and others are worth releasing.

That most of the things we worried about never happened, and many of the things that did happen turned out differently than we feared.

And perhaps most importantly, we begin to understand that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be wonderful.

While my body may not be quite as cooperative as it once was, something rather marvelous has happened to the rest of me.

I’ve become much more comfortable in my own skin—even if that skin has developed a few unexpected folds.

I care less about impressing people and more about connecting with them.

I’m less interested in being perfect and more interested in being present.

I’ve discovered that peace of mind is far more valuable than a flat stomach, and that a good laugh with someone I love can make an ordinary afternoon feel like a celebration.

And here’s something I never fully understood when I was younger:

The growing awareness that life is finite can make it feel infinitely more precious.

The little things become the big things.

A long conversation with an old friend. Holding hands with someone you love. A spectacular sunset. A delicious meal. A belly laugh that leaves you breathless.

Things that might once have seemed ordinary now feel extraordinary.

And I’ve come to appreciate that joy and sorrow aren’t opposites. They can sit side by side at the same table.

I can miss the people who are no longer here AND still laugh until my stomach hurts.

I can be deeply grateful for my life AND occasionally wish I had my 40-year-old upper eyelids.

I can be perfectly content with who I am AND still wonder whether there’s a miracle cream that might persuade my neck to reconsider its current trajectory.

That’s the beauty of Wabi Sabi aging.

It’s a BOTH/AND proposition.

It’s not about pretending everything is wonderful or insisting that we love every wrinkle, every ache, or every difficult change.

It’s about making room for all of it.

The beauty and the heartbreak.

The laughter and the tears.

The gratitude and the occasional desire to throw our bathroom scale out the window.

And perhaps the greatest gift of aging is the opportunity to become more fully ourselves.

Not the version our parents wanted us to be, or society rewarded us for being, or that we thought we had to become in order to be loved.

Just ourselves.

A little more weathered. A little less polished. But also more interesting, more compassionate, more authentic, and hopefully a whole lot more fun.

I think about that beautiful Japanese vase with its golden cracks.

Its imperfections aren’t something to hide. They’re part of its history, its character, and its beauty.

And so are ours.

Every wrinkle, every scar, every heartbreak, every hard-earned lesson is part of the extraordinary story of a life being lived.

After all, who wants to be a flawless vase sitting untouched on a shelf when you can be a beautifully weathered work of art with a thousand stories to tell?

And one final thought…

Who says we have to age gracefully?

I’d rather age outrageously!

With love, laughter, and a little Wabi Sabi,

Arielle ❤️