And now onto this month’s Flourish blog:

In recent months I’ve found myself experiencing less hope, less choice, and fewer moments of possibility than I would like.

For an author who recently published a book about seeking meaning, mindfulness and new possibilities in the second half of life, this is a particularly uncomfortable space in which to find myself (Berns-Zare, 2025).

Perhaps it’s no surprise that this inconvenient intersection of publishing a book I’ve long wanted to write and simultaneously experiencing a reduced sense of hope, choice, and possibility is unsettling. However, after wandering these bumpy paths in my mind, I’ve decided to cut myself some slack, opening to self-compassion for my struggles, and offering myself a reality check that goes something like this: Dear one, you have never claimed to be out of the trenches of life’s struggles. It’s precisely because your life, and pretty much everyone else’s, is peppered with transitions and challenges, tumultuous ups and downs, shadows of darkness and glimpses of light, that books offering information, ideas, and strategies can be so useful.

As I wrote in my book, You’re Not Too Old, and It’s Not Too Late:

“Many of us are interested in gaining fuller understandings about how to live the best lives we can at any stage – learning strategies to thrive in the face of our vulnerabilities and whatever life throws at us.”
(Berns-Zare, 2025, p. 11)
Recently, as I pondered my unwanted thoughts, I settled on my green recliner and closed my eyes for a few moments of breath awareness and mindfulness practice. My restless monkey mind and I sighed. Then I turned to one of my favorite practices, lovingkindness meditation, which derives from the practice of Metta in Buddhist tradition (Salzberg, 2018, 2010; Goleman & Davidson, 2017). Research reveals that engaging in lovingkindness meditation can increase our experience of positive emotions and compassion for ourselves and others.

So I began: “May I be safe. May I be healthy and well.” Then I paused and noticed a new phrase floating around in my head.

“May I be open to new possibilities throughout my life.”

As I silently repeated this phrase several times, I noticed I felt more settled and a bit more hopeful. I continue to experiment with this phrase. It sat well with me on that cloudy afternoon, and I have continued to practice with it.

Mindfully pausing to be present in the moment is a practice I appreciate on the meandering journey of my life. I have become a believer in quiet noticing – settling for a moment to notice my breath and the energies flowing through my body, the energies of my feet on the ground. Paying attention to the current moment rather than all the other stuff.

Cognitive psychologist Michelle Chapell in her book, The Power of Authenticity, reminds readers to “dwell in possibilities,” and to “try on something new” (2026, p. 131 & 134). This phrase invites a recognition we have choices about where we put our attention and that our attitude matters.

And then there is hope. Hope is not simply wishfully thinking things would get better, rather hope involves determination and actions to make them better (Dreher, 2025; Feldman, Dreher & Shapiro, 2026).

A large-scale 2026 study reports longitudinal links between hope and long-term outcomes including improved wellbeing, perceived and objective health, resilience, the ability to adapt, and an internal locus of control (Graham & Mujcic, 2026).

As I wrote in my book:

“We can face our vulnerabilities, while calling on our strengths and our            courage, choosing to embrace who we are, imperfections and all.  Exploring these options and decision points can offer greater introspection, new understandings, and an invitation to transform our beliefs about midlife and beyond from a mindset of inevitable, automatic decline toward greater empowerment, possibilities, mindful wellbeing, and a fuller life at any age”

(Berns-Zare, 2025, p. 21)

Dwelling in mindful possibility and actionable hope can be important drivers contributing to living with wellbeing.  And I’ll take that for now.

© 2026 Ilene Berns-Zare, LLC, All Rights Reserved