Not very long ago, I believed I was past the age of dreaming big. By the age of 60, I had achieved far more than my 16 year old self could ever have imagined. More than my 26 year old self, or indeed even my 36 year old self. I thought that maybe by my age, vision should be retrospective. There was just a hint of feeling as if my time for new dreams had passed and I should graciously accept that fact.
I felt that I should be satisfied with what my life had brought thus far. And I was. I am. More than satisfied, I’m grateful and amazed with this good luck life, grateful and amazed to have taken the adversity and challenges in stride, even surmounting them in some instances. I have survived and thrived and find myself in a really wonderful place, mentally and physically and emotionally. All is well.
Sort of. Or it will be now that I have rooted out this silly unconscious notion that at some magic age (for me that seems to be 60) or perhaps after some momentous event (retiring from teaching) I need to simply give up on dreaming big dreams and be content with what I’ve manifested thus far.
The idea that there is an age or an event that signals “time to stop going for it” isn’t just silly–it’s depressing. And I was depressed for about a year without really knowing exactly why. I kept giving myself the pep talk about having had a great life and now I could simply coast…enjoy the scenery, keep writing, have a glass of wine.
Not that any of the above are bad things. But there was the nagging spark inside that begged me to dream some new dreams before it really was too late. Slowly, I have gathered my courage and uncovered a few gems. Things I still want to try. Things that are a bit scary. Things that I might fail to achieve.
But damn I’m going for it. The time to stop dreaming, planning and achieving will come when I draw my final breath, and not before. This is my mantra for 2016. Stayed tuned, there’s much more to come.
Happy new year!