I’ve read many of Shirley MacLaine’s books, from an early age, like in high school when I sat up in a tree devouring Out On A Limb.
I felt kindred to her spirit and I’ve always appreciated her bold foray into the metaphysical – especially for doing it publicly, long before it was more commonly acceptable, and despite her movie star status. I love her salty style and big talent.
So I’m triple-loving her newest memoir, I’m Over All That, in which MacLaine shares her perspective, looking through a lens of done-ness in the third act of her life. Shirley is over many things, including politics, events she should attend in order to be seen, red carpet madness, worry, parties, scheming for roles, and what other people think.
I like her stance (a lot) of being over things we make too much of a hairy deal about. Â I notice a lot of people growing old reach this place of arrival, but I like that at mid-life I’m arriving at a similar stance of my own; better earlier so to enjoy the delicious freedoms that come with it.
When we need the world around us to be a certain way, the degree to which it mortifies us that it isn’t is the degree to which we are not keeping up with the expansion of all that is, including the expansion of ourselves.
And that I am very over.