There are many milestone decades for humans, and 30 is particularly significant for many of us. Once we leave our 20s, we feel we are saying goodbye to a level of freedom, a certain wild abandon, and youth. Turning 30 makes “adulting” feel real: time to settle down, to grow up, to develop a respectability we didn’t need or have before. For me, it meant softening my wild ways and nomadic tendencies.
For my part, turning 30 marked a, for me, unmistakable change. Being called ‘ma’am’ instead of ‘miss,’ getting married at 32, and inheriting a family - daughters I love dearly -meant acknowledging I had entered a new phase of adult responsibility. My career shift exemplified this transformation. Moving from data entry jobs that barely supported my creative pursuits of writing and sketching to becoming a professional teacher meant a complete lifestyle change.
Lesson planning, grading papers, early mornings, and late evenings replaced the creative life I had known. I didn’t truly understand what I was leaving behind or gaining—and that, perhaps, is the essence of youth: allowing the tide to carry us, unaware of the profound changes happening beneath the surface.
Remarkably, just before I turned 60, the nomadic spirit I bottled-up in my 30s through lesson plans and grading, lives again in Ely, which reawakened my sense of freedom and possibility. Surrounded by woods, artists, and a kind community, Ely feels right. Not only do the hills, lakes, and wildlife reflect renewal for me, but so do the new freedom to explore the town, write for pleasure (and maybe one day, profit), and make digital art all the while traveling to different locations without constraint.
Equipped with a minivan, sleeping bags and pads, and an idea for converting the back of the van into a living area, I have started exploring wilderness areas around Ely and plan to uncover more when spring returns.
Roaming northern Minnesota and the 10,000 lakes will satisfy my taste for traveling and adventure. In the meantime, tromping through the snow can be satisfying.
The new experiences ahead of me help me embrace 60 with a sense of anticipation. My body is aging, yes, but the people I spend time with in Ely continue to teach me that aging isn’t about limitation—it’s about change, just as it was when we journey(ed) from childhood to young adulthood; youth to middle age; middle age to advanced. Like many older adults, I’m hoping to advance my longevity by practicing yoga, dancercising, strengthening my core, improving my balance. During summer and late spring, I bicycle and walk the nature trails, circling lakes and inhaling the aroma of vegetation.
As I reflect on the process of aging and the lessons it offers, I wonder: What if, instead of resisting the inevitable aging that happens as we journey through time, we invite ourselves to become more fully ourselves?
