I just turned 30 a few days ago, and let me tell you…something’s shifted. It’s not just the number, although that’s a big one. It’s more like…perspective. There’s this quiet inner shift that I didn’t expect but kind of welcomed, like a surprise guest at your birthday party who brings the exact gift you didn’t know you needed.
People talk a lot about the Saturn return in astrology – that big cosmic reckoning in your late 20s when everything starts to unravel and rearrange. And although I’ve been into astrology for ages, I thought maybe I was the exception. But now? I feel it. Deeply.
The Simple Act of Sitting
A few days after my birthday, I found myself doing something unusual. I went to a park just to sit. Not to scroll through my phone, not to meet someone, not to get in a run. Just…sit. And as I sat there, watching the trees sway and the sky slowly shift in color, I started thinking. About everything. My life. Where I’ve been. Where I think I’m going. Who I am now that I’ve crossed into this new decade.
That’s when I noticed them – the older people. Just sitting outside. Not reading. Not talking. Not even walking. Just…sitting. Some on benches, some under trees, some on their own front porches. I used to see that and think, what are they doing? Isn’t that boring? But today, it hit me.
They’re doing exactly what I was doing. And maybe something even deeper.
They’re sitting outside just to sit outside.
From Hustle to Stillness
When you’re younger, life feels like a race. You’re moving fast, always thinking about the next thing – the next class, the next job, the next trip, the next relationship. There’s this constant buzz of becoming. And yes, there’s beauty in that too. But in all that becoming, you rarely just be.
Then you hit a point, and for me, I guess that point was 30, where you start to crave stillness. You start to notice moments. You realize that time is actually not unlimited, that life isn’t some endless highway, but more like a series of now-moments that you either show up for or you don’t.
What the Elders Already Know
That’s what the old people know.
They don’t sit outside to kill time. They’re outside to feel time.
To witness the way light changes through the leaves. To feel the breeze on their face. To hear kids laughing somewhere in the distance. To remember. To reflect. To sit in peace without being pulled every which way. Just be.
I used to think stillness was laziness or boredom. Now I understand, it’s a kind of quiet celebration. A slow dance with the present.
And maybe it took turning 30 for me to really get it.
A Kind of Wisdom
Maybe it took my own pause, my own moment on a park bench, to see that life isn’t always about chasing more. Sometimes, it’s about learning to sit still with what is, and finding that what is is more than enough.
The old people aren’t sitting outside because they’ve given up on life. They’re doing it because they’ve figured it out. They’ve lived through decades of hustle and heartbreak, of worry and work. They’ve earned their stillness. They know the richness of a simple moment. The way sunlight feels different when you’re not rushing through it. The taste of air when you take the time to really breathe it in.
Doing Nothing Is Doing Something
Maybe we should all aspire to be more like them, not in age, but in awareness.
Maybe sitting outside for no reason at all is actually a spiritual practice. A way to connect with something deeper than Wi-Fi signals and to-do lists. A form of wisdom that doesn’t need to speak to be heard.
I think our culture has it backward. We glorify productivity, action, noise. But there’s something revolutionary about doing nothing, especially in a world that’s constantly yelling at you to do something. Sitting quietly outside is like reclaiming your time. Saying, “I choose presence.” Saying, “I am enough, here, now, just like this.”
The Lesson I’m Taking With Me
Turning 30 made me realize I want more of that.
Yes, I’ve already come quite far. I’ve visited nearly 50 countries on my own, lived abroad, learned four languages, and achieved this and that. But now, instead of chasing things, I crave those moments where I’m not just filling time, but feeling it – more pauses, more awareness, more sky-gazing and people-watching, and letting my thoughts simply wander without needing to capture them or turn them into something.
So now, when I see old people just sitting outside, I don’t see passivity, I see power. I see people who know what matters. People who aren’t in a rush. People who’ve learned the art of being.
And I hope I don’t wait until I’m 70 to sit like that.
I hope I can be the kind of 30-something who stops and breathes and listens. Who sits outside for no reason at all, and smiles at the wind. Because maybe the best parts of life aren’t the ones we chase, but the ones we slow down enough to catch.
