6 things people over 60 do differently, and it's why they're happier

I love spending time with people who’ve been around the block a few times.

They’re less rattled by life’s noise. They laugh more easily, worry less about what strangers think, and seem to have found a steady groove the rest of us are still hunting for.

Over the past few years—between volunteering at my local farmers’ market and running with a crew that skews a bit older—I’ve been taking notes.

Here are six things I consistently see folks in their sixties (and beyond) doing differently.

Try any one of them, and you’ll feel the lift.

1. They right-size their commitments

In my analyst days, I built models to figure out what was worth the investment. Funny thing: people in their sixties seem to do a version of this with their calendars.

They don’t cram. They edit.

They say no faster, and with less drama. They’re done collecting obligations for the badge value. No more “I should pop by that networking thing” or “I guess I’ll join that committee because they asked nicely.”

They ask a simple question instead: Will this add energy or drain it?

Here’s a tiny script I stole from a 68-year-old friend who is joyfully busy, not frantically busy: “That sounds lovely, and I’m full this season.” No apology. No novel-length explanation. Just clean boundaries.

When you right-size like this, two dominoes fall: stress drops and presence rises. You stop time-slicing your life and start living the day you’re actually in.

Try this: open your calendar, pick three low-ROI commitments, and bow out with grace. Notice how quickly your shoulders relax.

2. They curate relationships for depth, not breadth

There’s a lovely paradox that shows up with age: less social quantity, more social quality.

The happiest older adults I know have a tight inner circle they water regularly—and a very loose outer circle they enjoy without obligation.

This isn’t antisocial; it’s wise. As our priorities evolve, it makes sense to lean into people who bring out our best stories.

You know the ones: the friend who listens without fixing, the neighbor who walks with you at sunrise, the sibling who can make you snort-laugh in aisle five of the grocery store.

The science backs this up. Psychiatrist and researcher Robert Waldinger, who directs the 85-year Harvard Study of Adult Development, put it bluntly in his TED Talk: “Good relationships keep us happier and healthier.”

When I remember that, I stop chasing acquaintances and start tending to my handful of truest connections.

A practical move I learned from a 62-year-old neighbor: set “friendship anchors.” Every Tuesday, she texts her two closest friends to plan a simple walk or coffee the following week. That’s it.

No elaborate dinner parties required—just dependable contact that compounds.

3. They trade status for purpose

Around 60, I notice a lot of people swap scorecards. Less “How impressive does this look?” and more “Does this matter to me or help someone else?”

Purpose gets simpler and closer to home. Mentoring a younger colleague. Babysitting grandkids on Thursdays. Serving at the food pantry.

Teaching a skill they’ve had for decades but never thought to share.

When I shifted from finance into writing, a retired client told me, “At some point, you stop auditioning and start offering.” That lands differently when you’ve got miles on your odometer. Offering can be quiet and powerful.

If you want an on-ramp here, ask: Who benefits when I show up fully? Then put it on the calendar.

The happiest elders I know don’t wait for a bolt of meaning to strike; they create it with repeatable actions.

4. They move their bodies for joy, not punishment

Yes, many sixty-somethings track steps and care about longevity. But they don’t treat movement like a moral debt. They move because it feels good and keeps them in the game.

Think gardening that sneaks in squats and lunges. Think dancing in kitchens, not just at weddings. Think long walks with a friend where the conversation pulls you along faster than any playlist.

One woman in my running group, age 71, smiles through hills because she chooses routes with three small delights: a house with a friendly golden retriever, a patch of zinnias, and a view over the river.

She fashioned a joy-loop, and it keeps her consistent.

If “exercise” feels like a chore, rename it. “Move and look for one beautiful thing.” That’s a practice you’ll actually keep.

5. They practice self-compassion out loud

Here’s a superpower I hear in older voices: kinder self-talk. Not coddling—kind.

They’re less likely to call themselves names, less likely to add a layer of shame on top of a mistake. They still hold standards; they just don’t weaponize them.

Psychologist Kristin Neff, who pioneered the research on self-compassion, puts it like this: “Self-compassion is simply giving the same kindness to ourselves that we would give to others.”

When I first read that, I realized how lopsided my own kindness was. I had oceans of grace for friends and a teaspoon for me.

People in their sixties model this in small, audible ways. “I missed that detail—good catch. I’ll fix it.” Or, “Huh, that didn’t go as planned. Let’s try again.”

No flogging. No catastrophizing.

It’s astonishing how much lighter life feels when you drop the whip.

Want a starter habit? Every time you catch a harsh inner comment, pause and ask, “What would I say to my favorite person in this exact situation?”

Then say that, to you.

6. They savor and ritualize the everyday

When time feels more precious, simple things get louder. Morning coffee becomes a ritual, not a reflex. A sunset becomes an appointment, not a screensaver. A handwritten note replaces a dashed-off text.

I learned this from a 66-year-old vendor at our farmers’ market. She sells heirloom tomatoes and writes the farm’s name, the variety, and a cooking tip on each brown bag. “It slows me down,” she told me, “and it honors the food and the person.”

The line at her stall is always longest, and it’s not just about the produce.

Savoring isn’t performative. It’s private attentiveness. But rituals help: the good mug, the same bench in the park, the playlist you cue while chopping vegetables.

These small anchors keep your days from blurring into one another. They’re also memory-makers. Ten years from now, you’ll remember the ritual, not the random scroll.

Final thoughts

Let me be clear: you don’t need an AARP card to do any of this. You can start today. In fact, it might be easier now than later because you can build these muscles before life forces your hand.

A few closing nudges:

• Put boundaries on autopilot. Decide your default “no” for the next 90 days and practice it until it’s smooth.

• Name your top five people and set recurring reminders to reach out. “Thinking of you” plus a date on the calendar is a love letter to your future self.

• Choose one purposeful action and make it weekly. Don’t wait to feel inspired—let the doing create the feeling.

• Redefine movement as “joyful consistency.” Track delight, not just metrics.

• Catch your self-talk in the act. Swap the critic for the coach.

• Create one ritual you’ll still want a year from now. Light a candle before dinner. Step outside for three slow breaths at dusk. Write a two-sentence journal before bed.

If you’re still wondering whether any of this will actually make you happier, borrow the wisdom of those who’ve been stress-testing these choices for decades.

Their revealed preference—how they spend their time, attention, and care—is the best data we’ve got outside a lab.

And if you only remember one thing, let it be this: the good life is not a future project. It’s built, piece by piece, in ordinary days like this one.

P.S. If you want a single research-backed place to start, invest in your relationships. The longest-running study on adult development keeps landing on the same conclusion: connection is the not-so-secret sauce. “Good relationships keep us happier and healthier.”

And when you stumble along the way (we all do), remember Neff’s reminder to treat yourself the way you treat the people you love most. “Self-compassion is simply giving the same kindness to ourselves that we would give to others.”

I’ll be over here savoring my coffee in the good mug and texting a friend to walk at sunset.

Join me?