Two months ago I joined a group of women over sixty who are working their way through the book “It’s Never too Late to Begin Again,” by Julia Cameron. I was wildly excited about the project, having read “The Artist’s Way,” written by Julia in 1992 as a “Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity”. The new book covers much the same material with the difference that it is largely addressed to retired people who are feeling a lack of purpose. I grow wistful when reading references to the challenge of dealing with large swathes of unplanned time. I’m employed and yearn for even brief swathes of unplanned time. Back when I read “The Artist’s Way” in the  nineties I was as wildly excited as this time. Back then I was as undisciplined about doing the work as I am today too.  “The Artist’s Way” reproached me from my bookshelf for almost thirty years, one of many paths not taken. The process involves free-form writing upon awakening each day, one-hour dates with oneself to explore a place or experience totally on one’s own; and various tasks, one of which is to write a memoir broken into blocks of approximately 6 years for someone my age. (The blocks consist of one’s age divided by 12). The group meets once a month; we  are covering one lesson each month, though the book is formatted to cover one lesson each week. Even with the expanded time frame I found myself “too busy” and did not write my morning pages this past month, our second. The first month I did not do the other exercises, but I wrote my morning pages and I was feeling good! I had established a regimen! I was following up the writing by making and drinking celery juice to cleanse my liver! Then when I broke a tooth my fragile habits fell away. I was uncomfortable and medicated. So now the second month has almost passed; today was the first day I wrote my morning pages since our group last met. My Inner Critic is telling me that I failed, but my Higher Self is telling me it’s never too late to begin again!