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At a restaurant on the edge of the Place Saint-Sulpice, I noticed a family having lunch. There were six of them. Mother and father. Grandmother. Three children. The oldest was a boy with tousled hair. The middle child was a girl. The youngest was another boy, distinguished - at least in my memory - by a particularly unfortunate haircut. They were having a wonderful time. They talked. They laughed. They smiled. The children participated in the conversation. The adults listened

Your Turn by Alison Aubrey is scheduled for publication on September 8, 2026. In this blog I have treated Aubrey's published description and third turn framework as inspiration rather than implying that this four-part blog series is a review of the complete published book. Part 1 - Identity: The Third Act and the Third Turn: When the Career Ends but the Story Doesn't. Part 2 - Flow: The Flow State: When You Forget to Look at the Clock. Part 3 - Curiosity: Curiosity: The Fuel

Some time ago, I wrote about what I called the Third Act. The idea seemed straightforward. If life were a play, perhaps it could be divided - very approximately - into three acts. Blog At A Glance Retirement is not necessarily an ending. Leaving a career may close an important chapter without ending the larger story of a productive and interesting life. Allison Aubrey calls this the Third Turn. In Your Turn, Aubrey explores the possibility that midlife and beyond can be

I recently did something that, a few years ago, would have made absolutely no sense. I took one of my own blog posts and submitted it to an AI-detection program. The result came back: 7% of this text appears to be AI-generated. The accompanying graphic was reassuringly precise. Seven percent of the text resembles AI text. Ninety-three percent showed no AI text patterns. My first reaction was amusement. My second was curiosity. What exactly does 7 percent mean? Did artificial

I came to America in 1978. I did not come as an American. I came as a young Australian who had grown up in Australia, spent the previous few years in Canada, graduated with a veterinary degree from the University of Sydney, had some ambition, and possessed no particular claim upon the country that was about to become such an important part of my life. America owed me nothing. And yet America gave me almost everything. America educated me as a veterinary neurologist and neuros

The Journey from Achievement to Wisdom We spend much of our lives believing that success is a destination. Graduate. Get a job. Build a career. Buy a house. Raise a family. Save for retirement. Society teaches us that life is a straight line of continual achievement. Yet, when we step back, life seems to unfold more like a play in three distinct acts, each with its own purpose, challenges, and rewards. I recently came across a simple framework that captures this beautifully:

Give it away while you can still see the smiles. I recently read an article about a person in their sixties who had done everything right financially. They had worked hard, saved diligently, invested wisely, paid off the house, accumulated retirement savings, and achieved what most people would call financial security. Yet they faced an unexpected problem. They couldn't bring themselves to spend the money. Every purchase was scrutinized. Every expense questioned. Every indulg

There was a time when tipping was simple. You sat down in a restaurant. A server looked after you for an hour or two. If the service was good, you left a gratuity. If it was exceptional, you left a little more. Today, however, tipping seems to have escaped its natural habitat. Buy a coffee? Tip. Pick up a takeaway sandwich? Tip. Purchase a bottle of water at an airport kiosk? Tip. Visit a museum gift shop? Tip. The request appears everywhere, glowing politely from the screen

Eat until you are 80% full. It sounds almost too simple. No expensive supplements. No miracle drugs. No celebrity diet. No wearable technology tracking every heartbeat and calorie. Just three words from the Japanese island of Okinawa: Hara Hachi Bu. For centuries, Okinawans have practiced this principle, traditionally reciting the phrase before meals as a reminder to stop eating when they are about 80% full. It is one of the habits often cited in discussions of Okinawa's rema

After a recent conversation with a friend, I have been thinking about Australians explaining Australia to each other. Not through statistics. Not through politics. Not through tourism slogans. You’ll Never Never Know, If You Never Never Go. Just by being Australians. Australians project a glorious mixture of sarcasm, self-deprecation, affection, irreverence, and understated pride. The conversation reminded me that Australia is not merely a place. It is a personality. And Aust

Japan’s Quiet Epidemic of Empty Houses. In the foothills beneath Mount Fuji, where cherry blossoms drift across narrow roads and ancient temples sit quietly among cedar trees, there are houses slowly disappearing into silence. Their gardens are overgrown. Mailboxes rust. Curtains hang motionless behind dusty windows. Roof tiles sag under years of neglect. These abandoned homes, known in Japan as akiya - are becoming one of the most striking symbols of modern Japan. And the sc

There is a Japanese concept known as Oubaitori, written with four kanji characters representing four different flowering trees: Cherry blossom, Plum blossom, Peach blossom, and Apricot blossom. Kanji are the adopted Chinese characters used in the Japanese writing system. Each character carries both sound and meaning, often conveying an idea or image rather than simply a phonetic sound. In Oubaitori, the four kanji symbolize distinct blossoms, each with its own unique beauty a

Some people need mountains. Some need cities. Some need noise and movement. Others need water. Not simply to drink or bathe or cross in a boat, but to see it, to hear it, to feel its presence nearby. Water has a way of steadying a life that is difficult to explain to someone who does not feel the same pull. The Calm of a Water View There is a particular quiet that comes from looking out over water. A lake in the early morning. The slow tide moving through a harbor. A river be

There is something quietly revealing about how a person treats small acts of order. Making the bed. Hanging a jacket rather than dropping it over a chair. Rinsing a cup before placing it in the sink. These are not grand gestures. They are tiny decisions, almost invisible in the moment, but together they form a kind of daily philosophy. Neatness is rarely about perfection. It is about respect. Respect for one’s surroundings, respect for the people one lives with, and, perhaps

Almost everyone who has eaten in an Asian restaurant has faced the small, slightly awkward moment. The waiter sets down the food. There are forks and spoons on the table. No chopsticks. You hesitate. Should I ask for chopsticks? Will I embarrass myself if I can’t use them? Does the waiter assume I can’t? Or worse, does asking for them look like cultural posturing? It is a small moment, but like many small social rituals, it carries layers of meaning. The Perennial Question: “

The person it’s happening to has absolutely no idea. As far as they’re concerned, they just thought something through and reached a conclusion. Phrases such as: Fake news. Witch hunt. Deep state. You don’t say something that many times because you’re making a point. You say it that many times because you’re building a reflex. Mental Emergency Brake Imagine driving along a quiet country road at dusk. The road bends gently through the hills. You are relaxed, attentive, curious

Travel often teaches us that festivals are more than celebrations. They are windows into the soul of a culture. If you watch closely, they reveal how people think about life, community, faith, and joy. Holi , the famous Indian festival of colors, is one of those moments when India reveals itself most vividly. On the surface, it appears chaotic. Clouds of colored powder drifting through the air, music echoing through narrow streets, strangers laughing as they smear color acros

I recently had a conversation with a retired university administrator about conflicts of interest and conflicts of commitment among senior university leaders. The discussion was about the ethics of a full-time dean of a School of Veterinary Medicine in a public institution belonging to the board of directors of a large pharmaceutical corporation, particularly as the corporation in question is closely aligned with veterinary medicine. It was a serious discussion about confli

When I look back on my latest trip to India, I realize that what stayed with me most was not any single sight. Not the traffic. Not the towers. Not the monuments. Not even the colors and sounds that travelers always talk about. What stayed with me was the sense of scale . India today feels like a country holding everything at once. It holds ancient systems and new ambitions. It holds extraordinary wealth and deep poverty. It holds biodiversity and urban expansion. It holds

After days of traffic, towers, water tanks, and questions about infrastructure, the shift felt almost abrupt. I stepped into a marble-floored showroom. Outside, the streets were dusty and loud. Inside, the air was cool and scented faintly with sandalwood. Rugs hung from tall walls in layers of color and pattern. Tables gleamed with polished marble inlaid with semi-precious stone. Glass cases displayed necklaces, bangles, and gemstones under soft lighting. It was beautiful. An