what War & Peace & hiphop can teach you about it's not too late

or how to make Napoleon krump

First off hi to my new subscribers. Thanks to

Kirsten Powers

for her story about Frances Mayes publishing Under the Tuscan Sun at 57. I shared that note and all of these wonderful people responded with their not-too-late stories which was super inspiring and some of you subscribed. Thank you!

Who I am: I spent my career writing personal growth books about women’s empowerment, speaking and leading retreats, also coaching writers on their books and how to market said books. I’m working on a novel and my last book was about hope even though it has a cheeky non-hopeful title. This will always be a free newsletter.

Now what’s this about War and Peace and hiphop?

Last week I saw the documentary Hip Hop-Eration at our local film festival.

It’s about a group of New Zealanders, ages 66 to 94, who learn hip-hop and compete in the World Hip Hop Dance Championships in Las Vegas.

I went to the movie because friends invited me. I expected a predictable story about old people doing something cute. I did not expect to be on the edge of my seat, my hands clapped on my face like Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone, weeping.

There were so many moments and takeaways in the movie that moved me but the biggest one was the character’s attitudes. They were so open, so matter of fact.

They didn’t have anything to lose. They had lost much in their lives already — partners, children, parents, friends, mobility — and they were pretty impossible to ruffle.

Here comes War and Peace

I’ve read War and Peace twice, once in my 20s when I went on a Russian lit jag, and again in my 40s because, when asked, I would say it was my favorite book, and one day I thought, “Is that even true anymore? Do I even remember the story?”

I’m rereading it at 61 with

Simon Haisell

‘s slow read club - we read a chapter a day (chapters are about 3 pages on average) and then discuss that day’s chapter in the chat. It’s been one of the most profound reading experiences of my life.

Near the end of Book 1, Prince Andrei is mortally wounded in a terrible and stupid battle (which all battles are) and as he lies on the battlefield dying, staring up at the sky, he thinks:

“Above him there was now nothing but the sky — the lofty sky, not clear yet still immeasurably lofty, with grey clouds gliding slowly across it. ‘How quiet, peaceful, and solemn, not at all as I ran,’ thought Prince Andrei ‘— not as we ran, shouting and fighting, not at all as the gunner and the Frenchman with frightened and angry faces struggled for the mop: how differently do those clouds glide across that lofty infinite sky! How was it I did not see that lofty sky before? And how happy I am to have found it at last! Yes! All is vanity, all falsehood, except that infinite sky. There is nothing, nothing, but that. But even that doesn’t exist, there is nothing but quiet and peace. Thank God!…’”

In the middle of horror and death, here comes enlightenment.

Or as Simon wrote about this chapter,

“We all want to be loved and admired for who we are and what we do. We all make plans and steer our lives by uncertain stars.”

Here’s where Napoleon krumps and I hopefully make my point

You know how after you do something you’ve been afraid to do, maybe something you’ve been afraid to do for years — write or date or take surfing lessons or sing in public or heck, get to know your neighbors — and later, you look back and think,

“What was I so afraid of? Why did I wait so long?”

Of course, you remember what you were afraid of and that fear had something to do with what you thought could go wrong that would humiliate you or you would fail. Your fear was entwined with your need to be loved and admired and your worry you wouldn’t be. (Or maybe it was also fear of drowning and cold water, which I get!)

Only now that you launched into action, your fears feel insubstantial, flimsy like the only thing stopping all that time was one of those toilet seat bands which as a kid I thought meant I wasn’t allowed to use the toilet until somebody else took it off.

What Hip Hop-Eration and Tolstoy are telling us is we are all going to die, and our fears of looking stupid or getting our hearts broken or trying to impress an Emperor with our plans are illusions.

We’ve got nothing real to lose.

Nothing real stands between us and living life full out.

That’s why it’s never too late.

Of course, it’s too late for specific things that you really want — maybe to have a baby or makeup a fight with a friend who has since died or share a cup of tea with your father. I’m never going to win a Nobel Prize or run a 5-minute mile or hug my parents again — and that last one makes me so sad but that’s what the documentary showed me. Don’t let your sorrow of what’s gone stop you from opening to life now. Let it sweeten your gratitude.

Thanks, Tolstoy, thanks Hip Hop-Eration, and thanks to our beautiful human hearts that can keep opening no matter what.

Love,

Jen