Today I join countless others who have come before me when I ask, “How the #$*& did I get to be this old?” I know this is not a novel question and because I try to live in the present I don’t ask it too often, but there’s no way to dispute the fact that I’m middle-aged. I think it’s about time I figure out what I’m doing.
What do I want?
I want to age gracefully. I want to grab life by the dangly bits. I want my life to count for something. I want to be happy. I want to be challenged. I want to read thousands and thousands of books. I want to create art and inspire others to do the same. I want to learn to tango. I want to watch sunsets and moonshines. I want to write a memoir that makes people feel good and strong and powerful while tears run down their cheeks. I want to swim in creeks and hike on the tippy tops of mountains. I want waves to take my breath away for just a moment. I want to squint in the sun. I want to feel calm and fulfilled. I want to feel enraged and passionate. I want to sit for hours with a notebook and a pen. I want to breath fresh air as deeply as I can. I want to be healthy. I want to meet new people and do interesting things. I want to live this life to the mother-fucking hilt.
But mostly, I’m just winging it over here. I’m going about my business, head down, ducks in a row while the clock ticks off the seconds. That annoying alarm continues to ring in the morning. I drink too much coffee every. single. day. of. my. life. There are emails to which I must tend. For some reason, the cats want to eat TWICE a day. Cats are needy like that.
But sometimes things happen to shake me up a little. Recently I found out that someone I love is very sick. It goes without saying that his illness will affect him far more than it will affect me. But still.
I went to see him. I hugged him and talked with him and then way too soon it was time to go home. And now I can’t stop thinking about it. About him.
Crying in the car with the radio up really, really loud doesn’t help. I know – I’ve tried.
I can’t help but marvel at how I continue to get caught up in the everyday hum drum details of life and fail to live that third paragraph up there. Why? Why is it so hard to live our dreams? Why do we fail to see the precious nature of every moment until after its over?
I’ll be pondering this question in the coming weeks because time is short and I’m getting older by the day. But while I’m pondering, I’m going to do my best to live in a way that fills my journals with poetry and art. I will dance. I will be reckless just often enough to feel alive. I will strive to understand that every day is a gift and treat it as such.
I hope you take some time this week to remember what it is that you want and then start making those things happen.
I’ve been traveling quite a bit over the past couple of weeks, but today I ran my first 5K complete with obstacles and mud and I’ve gotten around to a small bit of studio work. I’ve sprinkled images from those things throughout this post.
I’m wishing you a week filled with love & sunshine!