We tend as humans to imagine that another time in our lives was or will be easier.  When my husband and I were 35, we bought our first home and it needed a lot of renovations.  When we looked at the endless work and costs ahead of us, I do confess that I wished that I was 25 again.  After all, at that age, I didn’t own anything, except a used electric piano and a cheap bed, and I wasn’t married.  I didn’t have to deal with picking out china patterns or pleasing in-laws.  I had a job but it wasn’t a career yet.  It didn’t matter, because I was only 25. And yet, I remember distinctly the year before when I turned 24, I cried off and on through the day, because I realized that the doors of childhood had shut behind me.  I wasn’t in college, I wasn’t living at home, I had to support myself completely, and the world was not the sweet, supportive world of my childhood; I was on my own.

It’s so easy for us to believe that whatever age we are right now or whatever stage of life we’re experiencing is not as easy as a previous time, or maybe a future time. Maybe we wish we were back in school and didn’t have work obligations, or not married and carefree, or with grown kids so we didn’t have the day to day stress of parenting.  I’m fortunate as a parent and life coach to have witnessed most decades at this point, and each has its pluses and minuses.  My kids have loved being kids, but even little kids want to be big kids, until  they are about 12  and then they are desperate to hold on to some of childhood.  Joni Mitchell wrote in her gorgeous song, The Circle Game, “And they tell you take your time, it won’t be long now, before you drag your feet just to slow the circles down.” Among my high school clients, they are desperate to have the simplicity of childhood and to escape all the pressures and expectations of getting into college.  College students feel pressure even more acutely, now that college is so expensive.  The days of lying on the grass and reading old Victorian poems for the fun of it are gone.  Parents want business degrees and results and students are staggering under the weight of student loans and pressure to get a great job to justify their degree.

My clients in their twenties struggle with finding love in an era of Tinder, which is a “dating” app– you swipe right or left, depending on whether you want to meet that stranger.  (Note:  this is not the path to long term love, but rather short term sex.) They are trying to find themselves, pay off debt, deal with roommates, adjust to the stress of their first real job with demanding bosses and travel, and learning all the boring rites of adulthood, like insurance and mortgages and investment strategies.  Clients in their thirties realize that the minute they turn 30, people expect them to be married.  And for women, their ovaries are open for discussion, since the pressure is now on for having kids before it’s too late. For clients in their forties and fifties, as well as many friends, it’s a mad dash against the clock to attend to work, kids, home repairs, and investing.  For those who are single still, the pressure is even greater, because they feel that maybe it’s too late.  And for those in their sixties and beyond, there’s a freedom for a lot of people that they didn’t have when they were younger– the kids are grown and dogs are dead– but they are dealing with health issues and money concerns and a lot more logisitics. The fact is that none of it is easy and all of it is wonderful.  Turning 7 is as magical and stressful as turning 87.

We tend also to think there might be a perfect age in history that was somehow easier.  But I’m reminded of the pioneer women who bore and raised children while traveling in a covered wagon, or women who were burned at the stake for being too powerful in the middle ages, or leaders like Queen Victoria, who weren’t afraid to rule, but were terrified of childbirth since so many women didn’t get through it alive. As we Americans accept, for better or worse, the passing of the guard today of American presidents, let us remember that this time in history is no easier or harder than other times.  Just like personal ages we experience, it’s the same yin and yang.

As my grandfather used to say, “This too shall pass.” When we are in a particularly hard time in our lives or in history, it’s important to remember that all things change, some things for the better and some for the worse.  As you connect with what your world stage is, remember to accept the age you’re in, both how old you are and where in history you are.  It’s important to honor all the stages of our lives and to be present in the moment of history in which we find ourselves. And if you feel stuck or afraid, find one small way to celebrate your current age.  Remember the great poet Rumi’s words:  “There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.”

Since I was pregnant with my first child in 2002, I have been criticized for the following:  gaining too much weight in pregnancy (um, I was hungry); not carrying my daughter around in a Snuggli so that we could bond (it hurt my back); not giving her enough educational stimulation in the form of books and videos (she was happy sucking on a spoon); and feeding her too much food for a baby (given that she dropped a lot, we had to start with more).  For my son two years later, it was that I shouldn’t have let him cry himself to sleep (I needed to sleep!);  that he was too aggressive in school (he was 2 and he liked to hug people!) and on and on.  The stay-at-home moms thought I worked too much, at 10-20 hours per week, and the working moms were sure that I didn’t work enough, since I clearly had time to eat Bon Bons in between raising kids and working part-time.

Even now that my kids are older, the criticism continues in a form of micro-aggressive comments from mostly other moms who feel that they are competing with me for the one Great Mom! prize.  (As if.) All these jibes become a buzz in your head that never goes away, even when you’re camping in the woods as I was last weekend.  I’ve had moms in the past at the Mom’s Weekend at my daughter’s camp tell me that I was doing the origami project wrong and that I needed to listen better (really?), and that I should climb to the top of the 40 foot tower since other moms were doing it, even though I have a genetic and paralyzing fear of heights.  But this weekend, with insane weather patterns, alternating between 95 degree blazing heat and intense rainstorms with thunder and lightening, I had to let all the shoulds go.  I just accepted that I wouldn’t be on time or even participate in all the classes, because we had to get our tent up, or I had to sit in the shade because I couldn’t handle any more than three hours playing in the lake by the afternoon.  I had to be ok with not being like most of the moms, running like crazy people from one impossible activity to the next.  I was more concerned frankly about getting hit by lightening, staying in a soaked tent all weekend, or collapsing from heat exhaustion, so I listened to what I needed and what worked for me, even if the chorus of judges didn’t approve.

The result?  A magical weekend and none of the magic was planned:  ditching yoga class in the middle of it to run with my daughter in a rain storm and get our tent put together with another mom’s help (who came out of nowhere and disappeared almost like an angel); making up a rap song about broccoli with my girl with drum and kazoo that brought down the house; getting up really early the next morning (which was easy to do because I hadn’t slept at all) and finally do the Polar Swim together, going down the water slide and playing with inter tubes and splashing and laughing; jumping on the water trampoline and then  capsizing again and again on the paddle boards since we both tried to stand up together; sitting in the cabin with teens listening to the sounds of thunder and singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” to them to cheers, and seeing my kid’s proud smile; eating snacks and giggling outside till way too late, glad about having fun and being alive.

None of that magic was on the schedule, and most of it would have been missed if we had had the perfect weather and if I had rushed around sticking to the perfect schedule, like so many exhausted moms.  How many of us miss a chance to lie on the grass and look up at clouds with our kids because we’re rushing to the next activity?  How many of us insist on our idea of what a perfect day should be, possibly missing the magic that happens when we let go of trying to be perfect and do everything and control the unexpected, like the weather?

To find your world stage, try to let go of the reins of perfection and control and realize that the best moments occur when we’re not looking and have other plans. This week, try to do less and plan less and be less perfect in all things, knowing that magic just might creep up on you.

So many of us feel guilted into doing too much for too many people and organizations and then wonder why we’re exhausted and feel stretched so thin.  One thing to remember is that you can always do less, and that doesn’t make you a bad person; it makes you a sane person.  There’s always going to be the person who feels it’s her job to make sure you’re volunteering enough at school. This is usually the caffeine-fueled “CEO” of her children’s lives who feels it’s her duty to direct you toward more volunteering “opportunities.”

I fell into that trap of pleasing other people early on as a new parent, but then gradually learned to say no over and over to most things and yes only to what really mattered.  (No to one more bake sale, but yes to recording songs with my kids.) I once had a man call from a church we had only been attending for six months to pressure me into serving on the vestry, which is the governing board of the church. At the time my kids were 4 and 2, I was working part-time, and barely had time to breathe, let alone help lead a church.  My answer: “Thanks for asking, but no.” The man continued on and on as though I hadn’t said no.  I finally said, “You’re wasting your time and mine since I already said no.” He said, “So you really mean no?”  I wondered how he was teaching his kids to respect some else’s NO if he couldn’t do it himself.  I think he was stunned, because most women roll over with enough pressure, they want to be liked, and they can often be convinced ultimately to say yes (in lots of situations) when they don’t want to.  They have the disease to please. Not me. Not anymore.

If you want to contribute what you came to this world to do and find your world stage, figure out how you can do less of what you don’t want to do so that you have more time for what does matter, what makes your heart sing.  For me, it’s snuggling with my kids, laughing with friends and family, singing, coaching, traveling, and watching sunsets in Hawaii.  Remember, you get to decide, not other people.  So this week do less, please fewer people, and see how your spirit soars.