our lives are ours to shape

a meditation on the fleeting nature of time, the power of presence, and the privilege of living artfully.

As a happily single woman in my 40s, I’ve arrived at an auspicious moment in life. The insecurities I carried in my teens and twenties are in the rearview. I’m standing in a pivotal place where, in many ways, the world is my oyster.

It’s a courageous thing to embark on a creative path—to live life through a creative lens. It’s unconventional and not for the faint of heart. While others seek tradition or narratives handed down by their institutions of faith, role models or favorite content creators, there are those of us living on the outskirts of mediocrity. We’ve chosen a path of growth, curiosity, wonder—a path that embraces the truth of reality: everything is uncertain, nothing is promised, the love we have to give is infinite, and our time is finite.

Time is the only thing we don’t have an abundance of. And the truth is, we are all running out of it.

As a writer and creative, stating the obvious sometimes elicits discomfort. Through a conventional lens, these words might sound bleak. But that’s the beauty of living artfully—the freedom to be with discomfort, to allow what the moment calls for, and meet it fully. To turn toward rather than away. To get curious about what life is asking of us.

Not everyone can live from this place of presence, deep listening, and attentiveness to the natural world. Many are taught to chase the mighty dollar or cling to fixed identities—status, class, race—as if they define us. Others of us seek to transcend those labels. They are constructs, tethered to ego and the stories we tell about ourselves and others. From this vantage point, living a scripted life, like resigning to the suburbs, can feel like soul death. We’ve been told it means we’ve “made it,” but at what cost?

The same could be said about conventional norms around love and relationship. We’re told we can’t love someone of the same gender. Or that we’re only allowed to love one person romantically. But the truth is, we humans have an infinite capacity for love. How else could we care for our families, friends, colleagues, and creative companions?

The only thing that’s finite is time.

Now that is something to get intentional about.

How do you want to spend your time?
Do you want to spend it chasing a status or dream someone else sold you?
Or running away from your dream, from yourself, from others?

I choose to run with curiosity and wonder.
To lead with my heart exposed, arms wide open.
To let tenderness and vulnerability steer the ship.
To own my missteps and take sincere responsibility when I fall short.

Mostly, being single and forty-something means I get to shape the life I want to live. A life with meaning. One rooted in creativity, connection, peace, and joy—even in a world where many are struggling.

Make no mistake, I know it is a privilege to feel joy.
A privilege to devote time to connection and creativity.
What we do with that privilege—how we show up for others, how we participate in our communities, advocate for others, how we strive to be kind, empathetic humans, is entirely up to us.

© Alana Foy 2025