By Rose Weaver

Picture an hourglass on a table before you. The sand is low, the stream is thin — and you hear that whisper: "You're almost out of time."

But then something shifts. You reach out, turn it over, and suddenly… there's motion again. Possibility again. You realize aging is not running out of time — it's rewriting how you use it.

Changing the Story of Aging

Most of us inherited a tired script about getting older: aging as loss, menopause as silence, elders fading from view. But research shows that our mindset about aging directly impacts our energy, health, and even longevity. Those who see later life as growth — not decline — actually live longer and thrive.

One of my songs in my show, Menopause Mama, captures that turning point. The song is called This Woman Is Not Done (©2001). It embodies what positive aging means to me: that we're not fading, we're evolving.

From Menopause Mama

This Woman's Not Done

Everything in life is a test
That's why women are here
To leave lessons from our youth
To grow older without fear

This woman's not done

Salty tears stained my pillow
I wondered how I would cope
Then something changed late one night
With the morning came a new scope

Said, this woman's not done

First, we were young, then too old
Kicked to the curb, robbed of our souls
Reached for the ceiling, hit the glass
Was either 'bout gender, color, or class

Some treated us good, others handled us wrong
At times we were weak, but now we're strong
We're singing our new song, we're right on the track
And this train still runs

This train still runs
And we can't turn it back
We can't go back

Look into my eyes right now
Can you see we're still here
There's so much more of us to live
And I love we, I love me for all my years

And this woman's not done

Owning Our Whole Story

We don't arrive at this third act untouched. Many of us have faced double standards — told we were too much when young, and too old now. Yet here we are, wiser and still radiant. Turning over the hourglass means honoring every grain of sand that's fallen and still choosing joy in what remains.

    Turning over the hourglass means honoring every grain that's fallen — and still choosing joy in what remains.
  

Your Invitation

Each of us has an hourglass. Maybe yours is aging parents, a changing body, a shifting dream. Ask yourself:

What story am I telling about getting older — collapse or unfolding?
What one act of rest or joy can I claim this week?
How might I treat each day as a promise, not a countdown?

· · ·

Closing

As you leave, imagine holding your own hourglass. See the sand that's fallen — your laughter, your lessons — and notice what still flows. You can't add more sand, but you can decide how you'll spend it.

My song ends with the words:

"Look into my eyes right now… this woman's not done."

— This Woman's Not Done

Neither are you.

So flip your hourglass. Rest deeply. Move gently. Choose joy. And live your third act wide awake, still declaring — what an amazing ride it's been.