At TurningSixty, we think there is a particular joy in turning sixty that no one quite prepares you for. It’s not just a milestone, though it is that. It’s a quiet gathering of everything you’ve lived through and the quiet realisation that there is still so much left to do, to feel, to notice, to begin again. The best part is that the celebration doesn’t have to be grand or expensive. Some of the most meaningful ways to mark the moment cost little more than time, thought, or a gentle leap of imagination. 

You might start with something simple. A walk somewhere you’ve always meant to go. A place on the map you’ve driven past for years but never stopped to explore. You could spend a day alone with no obligations, allowing yourself the freedom to follow your instincts, to sit by the sea, visit a garden, get lost in a gallery, or just watch the clouds roll by with no guilt attached. 

Others find celebration in expression. You could write a letter to your younger self. Or to your older self, still waiting ahead. Some mark the day with a photograph, not posed, not formal, just honest and present. You might keep a journal for sixty days, noting one small thing each day that brings you joy, or peace, or laughter. 

There’s something very grounding about doing something physical to mark the year. Planting sixty bulbs or baking a cake and giving away slices to friends and neighbours. Learning to juggle. Swimming outdoors. Signing up for a tai chi class. Not because you must, but because you can. Because sixty, as it turns out, is not an ending but a hinge, a moment to stretch into who you are becoming. 

If you feel social, you could gather people not for a party, but for a shared walk, a picnic, a kitchen supper where everyone brings a dish. Or spend time with just one old friend and talk late into the night about how you got here. The decades. The detours. The things you thought you’d have figured out by now, and the ones you did. 

Celebration can also mean giving something back. Some people choose to make sixty small acts of kindness. Sending postcards. Leaving flowers on a bench. Donating to a local cause. Volunteering time. Reaching out to someone they’ve lost touch with. Not because anyone expects it, but because it feels good to rejoin the world in new, quiet ways. 

You might take on a personal challenge. Read sixty books you’ve always meant to. Try sixty recipes. Learn sixty new words in a language you’ve forgotten. Keep a list, or don’t. The point is not the number, but the intention, the way it frames the year as something worth leaning into. 

And then there’s pleasure. The long-postponed ones. A morning in bed with a book and no interruptions. A visit to a local steam railway. A proper bar of chocolate. A trip to the cinema on a weekday afternoon, alone, with a cup of tea and no phone. A slow afternoon nap without apology. 

The beauty of celebrating sixty is that it invites you to stop measuring time by what is gone and begin noticing what remains. What is here. What is opening up. You do not need permission. You do not need applause. Just a small moment, set aside, in whatever shape feels right. To say, “I am here. I am still learning, still laughing, still utterly capable of surprising myself.” And that, in itself, is cause enough for celebration. 

We’d love to hear your ideas for celebrating turning sixty, or the story of how you did mark the event. Get in touch and let us know!