Is 70 my “Coming of Age”?

Bali — A Quiet Kind of Magic

I didn’t expect to fall in love with Bali.

But as we flew in over the ocean, looking down at the crowded landscape below, I had this curious feeling that this place was going to mean something to me. I couldn’t have explained why. I just sensed it.

Perhaps it was because I was coming here to celebrate my 70th birthday. Seven decades of living, loving, learning, making mistakes, making choices, losing things, finding things, and becoming all the different versions of myself along the way.

Seventy feels significant to me. Not simply another birthday, but a threshold. A time to reflect on what has been and to wonder about what might still be.

Bali has been beautiful in all the ways one might expect. The ocean, the warmth, the lovely places we’ve stayed, the kindness of people, the flowers, the food, the massages, the luxury of being looked after.

But strangely, none of those things has been what has touched me most deeply.

It’s been the stillness.

Here, surrounded by tropical gardens, forest, flowers and birdsong, I’ve found myself wanting to do very little. No sightseeing, no shopping, no need to fill the hours with experiences. Just sitting, listening, looking, feeling.

And this morning, in that stillness, I found myself travelling back through my life.

From the young woman I was at 20, through each successive decade, right up to the woman I am now. Remembering relationships, choices, moments of joy, mistakes, disappointments, adventures and the many paths taken — and not taken.

It wasn’t something I’d particularly intended to do. In fact, I think part of me had been avoiding it.

But the memories came, not in overwhelming detail, just enough to recognise the life I’ve lived and the person I’ve been through it all.

And perhaps that’s part of the magic of this place. It creates space for something we don’t always allow ourselves in everyday life — the opportunity to simply sit with ourselves, without distraction, without judgement, without needing to do anything about what we discover.

I imagine Bali touches people in very different ways. For some it’s the colour and movement, the cocktails, shopping, beaches and endless possibilities for pleasure. And there’s nothing wrong with any of that.

But for me, the real beauty has been in what happens when all of that falls away.

A quiet sense of connection. To nature, to time, to my own history, and perhaps to the woman I am becoming.

What’s interesting is that I don’t feel the need to stay here forever. Another day or two and I’ll be ready to go home. I don’t need to hold on to this place or recreate my life here.

Perhaps that’s because it’s already given me something I can take home.

And sitting here now, with a cup of tea, waiting for my travelling companion, I’m feeling an enormous sense of gratitude.

Not just for Bali, or this holiday, or the privilege of staying in beautiful places.

But for the simple, extraordinary fact that at almost 70, I am here.

That my body still carries me into the ocean, along beaches, through gardens and into new experiences. That I have mobility, agility, curiosity and a capacity for wonder. That I can still travel, explore, feel deeply and be surprised by life.

I’m aware that these are not small things. They are privileges, and they are not guaranteed.

Perhaps there is something about approaching 70 that brings this into sharper focus. An awareness of time, not necessarily with sadness or fear, but with a growing appreciation of its preciousness.

And perhaps that’s what this journey has really been about.

Not escaping my life, but finding a little space to look back at it, to acknowledge it, and to recognise that all of it — the beautiful, the difficult, the messy, the extraordinary and the ordinary — has brought me here.

I don’t know what the next decade will hold. None of us does.

But I know I want to enter it with openness, curiosity, gratitude and a little more gentleness towards myself.

And maybe that’s the magic of Bali.

It hasn’t changed my life.

It’s simply given me a quiet moment to recognise it.

And for that, I am deeply grateful. 🌿

Karen 💕

On reflection, reading this post again I thought at 70, perhaps the question is no longer, "What am I going to do with my life?" but "How do I want to inhabit the life I have?"

And I wonder whether, sitting in those beautiful gardens today, I’ve already begun to find my answer. 🌸💕