The older I get the more I realize how much more I need to learn. That said, in my sixty-seven years, I have figured out a few things. Here they are, for better or worse: 

• The key to sounding good is knowing when you sound bad.
• It’s possible to gnash your teeth and feel gratitude at the same time. 
• You’ve looked at life from both sides now. Joni’s right. It’s confusing. You really don’t know life. At all.
• Activities that might cause injury include unloading the dishwasher, wrapping a birthday present, opening a bottle of water, playing an F# minor arpeggio, or sleeping.
• The beginning of a project is exciting, the end of a project is rewarding, but the middle is where the magic happens. 
• Cosmetic surgery and aesthetic adjustments are not evil. Nip. Tuck. Tweak. Whatever makes you feel good is okay. But exercise caution with the puffy lips.
• Voice of Doom will occasionally pop into your head and cause an unnecessary anxiety attack. Kick his ass to the curb. You have better things to do. 
• You can be confident and still maintain your humility.
• If you’re stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea, go swimming. Avoid sharks and jellyfish.
• Get off the potato chip couch and do something productive. This might include a nap, planting daffodil bulbs, practicing some Bach, learning how to make vegan Pho, or editing the essay on bunion surgery that you wrote twelve years ago.
• Never ever talk in a baby voice unless you’re conversing with an actual baby—and even then, it’s probably not a good idea.
• A vintage hat could throw you into the realm of eccentric old lady, but if you wear a wide-brimmed chapeau with conviction you’ll look as if you’re off to the Derby, a British royal wedding, or a photo shoot for a catalog of safari-themed resort-wear. 
• Check your email once a day. Respond promptly to business inquiries or friends. This is not difficult. 
• Diversity, equity, and inclusion are signs of a civil society.
• A minimalist approach to life allows for maximal enjoyment.
• Support your local orchestra, theater company, ballet, opera, or piano player. 
• If you plan to go the gym seven days a week you will go three days a week. If you plan to go three days a week you won’t go at all.
• Lift weights—the weight room is where all the younger, buffer humans hang out. They will welcome you, give you compassionate glances, and helpful tips.
• Never ever wear an elastane onesie to the gym (or your piano gig), unless you are twenty-three, under five feet tall, and training with Simone Biles.
• Never ever wear beige leggings to the gym (or anywhere else) unless they are covered by a cute ankle-length kilt. 
• Big breasts, the pride of your younger years, are now a nuisance. They will hurt your back during a three hour piano gig, weigh you down, and cost a lot to keep appropriately hoisted.
• Good bras cost more than shoes. 
• Spanx is another name for a girdle. Best avoided if you enjoy breathing.
• Nausea and hunger are opposing sides of the same menopausal butter knife.
• Your gluten and dairy intolerances will leave you thinking of nothing but pizza.
• Alcohol was once your good friend. But the friend ditched you for a more resilient, newer model. Get over it. Congrats! You now have a clear head and the dreaded lime-infused mocktail. 
• You can pretend the mocktail is a real drink if you put it in a festive wineglass. 
• You will often be the only sober person at the party, which is its own kind of high. Raise your festive wineglass proudly. More lime!
• Your musical performances, and just about everything else, will be better without wine. It’s okay to miss it. 
• Your greatest accomplishments have been the most challenging—for instance, raising children, writing a few books, playing the piano at a memorial service for someone you love, tracking giraffes on a muddy hill in South Africa.
• Big black sunglasses (think Karl Lagerfeld)—will hide the bags under your eyes, cover your crows’ feet, and cause people to feel sorry for you when you refuse to take them off indoors. 
• Big white sunglasses will make you look like an aging Gaga or a young Lina Wertmüller. 
• Don’t drive at night. Headlight glare is dangerous—with a capital D and that rhymes with C and that stands for crash.  
• Broccoli tastes pretty good but it must be cooked perfectly, something only you have mastered. Do not eat broccoli prepared by anyone else.
• You will be queasy in the morning but by eleven o’clock, when everyone else has eaten and the breakfast dishes have been swept away, you will want to eat a vegan, gluten-free horse with a side of broccoli and several cookies. 
• You can spend big chedda on fancy nightgowns and pajamas, but you will insist on sleeping in your husband’s old True Fire t-shirt.
• A well-cut black suit is always gig appropriate. Toss anything that makes you look like an unemployed hooker or an aging extra from the set of the original Carrie movie. 
• Nothing beats a good makeover show. The Queer Eye guys are heroes.
• Laughing is the best medicine, even in horrible situations.
• Clean out your makeup drawer. Discard anything purchased before 1994. This includes nail polish.
• Make sure to have a smart, non-judgmental beautiful friend who is at least ten years older and several volumes wiser. She will be your guide to graceful aging.  
• Not all cashmere is good cashmere.
• A hang nail can ruin your day, especially if you’re a pianist.
• Eat vegetables. 
• Look in the mirror and see only the good stuff. Not easy, but worth a try.      
• Slow mornings are golden.
• If you swing between monkey mind and zombie mind, deep breathing will help you find the sweet spot between the two.
• You can actually have too many pairs of black pants. You can also be too thin.
• Volunteer. You’ll help yourself.
• See your adult children whenever you can. Hold on to them; then let them go. Wear your Karl Lagerfeld sunglasses so they don’t know you’re crying.
• Take care of your feet. You need them to run toward the things you love (your partner, your children, the overrated third season of White Lotus), and away from things you detest (proud boys, oath keepers, or cockroaches with wings).
• Take care of your voice. You need it to protest the daily human rights injustices that swirl around you. 
• Take care of your spirit. Meditate. Sleep. Stretch. Repeat.
• Playing the piano with intention and love is therapy for both the player and the listener. Double win!
• Keep your very small corner of the world organized, beautiful, and civilized. 
• Anne Patchett wrote: “Missing people is a fulltime job.” She’s right. Remember that your golden years may require a lot of work for this very reason.
• Your golden years are now. Celebrate.
• Read a book of Mister Rogers quotes. “Look for the helpers.” Or better yet, be a helper and look for yourself.
• Refuse to be a victim.  
• Flowers always help. 
• If you’re going to cry, let it flow. Holding it in makes your throat swell and gives you a headache. 
• Don’t suffer from achievement addiction. Once you release your need to achieve, you’ll be more content (thank you, Karolina Strassmayer). 
• Information is power. Don’t give it away.
• Read a book or two every week. 
• Subscribe to the New Yorker.
• Oatmeal is a Dickensian drag, especially if you call it porridge. 
• Hang out with good friends—the ones who give you space, truly listen to your worries, and cheer for you when you need it. 
• Grief endures but so does love. You can’t have one without the other.
• You’ve read Nora Ephron’s I Feel Bad About My Neck several times and finally understand why a woman could be fabulously successful and feel bad about her neck. Or her knees, for that matter.
• It’s okay to ignore holidays invented by greeting card companies.
• It’s okay to stay away from social media, or any place where predatory advice is deemed helpful.
• The wellness world is a racket. Eat real food, exercise, sleep, stay calm. That’s all you need to know. 
• Time doesn’t fly; it flows.
• There are a thousand shades of blue.
• Hope is the thing with feathers, unless the thing with feathers is a pigeon that poos on your Max Mara coat when you’re on your way to work.
• Unexpected sunlight in February is one of life’s greatest gifts.
• Fiber.
• Music describes the world. Listen.
• Love is love is love.
• Enough is enough is enough.
• Let the gusts from yesterday’s storm blow you into a peaceful future. 
• Having options is the secret to contentment.
• Any free choice is a blessing.
• Keep playing, especially for yourself.
• You have given enough to the people. Stand up. Take a bow. Sit down. Breathe.

Photo by Julia Goldsby, snapped at Excelsior Hotel Ernst, where Robin Meloy Goldsby has been performing for the past ten years. Goldsby is a popular solo piano artist with over 250 million streams on Pandora in the USA. Listen to her music on all streaming platforms.

Goldsby’s newest book, Piano Girl Playbook: Notes on a Musical Life [Backbeat Books], is available from bookstores everywhere. She is also the author of Piano Girl: A Memoir; Rhythm: A Novel; Waltz of the Asparagus People: The Further Adventures of Piano Girl; and Manhattan Road Trip: Short Stories.