It's not surprising my excitement and determination expressed last July to start writing again, to start exploring this thing called 50, waned within a couple of blog posts. Keeping up with blogging has often been for me another task on the perpetually full to-do list.
I suppose I have this idea that someday I will finish a to-do list and it will remain finished, another list won't call to be made, for several days, maybe even a week. Those ensuing days will be weightless, void of the unrelenting sense of responsibility, free for spontaneity. Or if not spontaneity, at least things like tea, walking, reading, puzzling, or LEGO-ing without a sense of foreboding about what I am not doing and the consequences of not doing that thing, those things, so many things.
Less than two weeks from 50 and I don't understand it much better than I did six months ago. Maybe I have to actually BE it in order to understand it. Maybe I have to LIVE it, for weeks, and months, to understand what I mean by 50. Me, not others, not what they mean by 50, but what I mean, how I am, who I am at 50.
Ha. Of course. Just a few paragraphs in and I'm content from the inside out, more than I have been in weeks. Thinking out loud always helps me, and yes, writing is an out loud endeavor.
Thank you, dear readers, for being great listeners. I will rely upon your ear to help explore and understand this new decade.
I suppose I have this idea that someday I will finish a to-do list and it will remain finished, another list won't call to be made, for several days, maybe even a week. Those ensuing days will be weightless, void of the unrelenting sense of responsibility, free for spontaneity. Or if not spontaneity, at least things like tea, walking, reading, puzzling, or LEGO-ing without a sense of foreboding about what I am not doing and the consequences of not doing that thing, those things, so many things.Less than two weeks from 50 and I don't understand it much better than I did six months ago. Maybe I have to actually BE it in order to understand it. Maybe I have to LIVE it, for weeks, and months, to understand what I mean by 50. Me, not others, not what they mean by 50, but what I mean, how I am, who I am at 50.
Ha. Of course. Just a few paragraphs in and I'm content from the inside out, more than I have been in weeks. Thinking out loud always helps me, and yes, writing is an out loud endeavor.Thank you, dear readers, for being great listeners. I will rely upon your ear to help explore and understand this new decade.
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