I believe that, until we take our last breath, we are always invited by Life to become more.
I save newspaper articles about people still being productive well into their 80’s and 90’s. It doesn’t matter whether they paint, garden or mentor a third grade student. They inspire me. I tell myself: that will be me in twenty-five years. Though not an official baby boomer, I am definitely of the generation that sees this time in our lives as a chance to do something new and wonderful: to fulfill the dreams that have been on the back burner, to dare to do what we thought we never could do, to become who we always wanted to become. I believe this can happen.
For me, that dream was to be a writer. I’ve never published anything literary, but as I read through my journals of the past thirty years, I’m amazed at how many times I make reference to writing a book. I have titles like “Under the Veil” about my years in the convent, childhood memories of growing up Franco-American and a poem interspersed here and there. Then I go on in the following days writing journal entries while this bombshell sits on the previous pages.
Now I’m ready to claim the title writer and am willing to light a fire under these ideas, just as I’ve lit a fire under my life and am bursting myself into a future that will be fantastic. How do I know that? Because my present life sparkles with an excitement I couldn’t have imagined three years ago when I decided to leave a relationship whose fuse had more than fizzled.
I kept reading about how our thoughts create our lives. Living alone for the first time in my life at age sixty-two, I dared to believe that and I began to write, so I could discover my deepest thoughts which would help me create the life I’ve envisioned. Previously, it could take me two years to fill a journal. Now I fill one each month.
I remember hearing on television someone say what they knew for sure. I had no idea what I knew for sure but I yearned to discover. I wrote and wrote and still write today. From this have come poems, essays and memories with overwhelming emotions that explode on the page, tired of being held hostage within me.
I believe in Life and the energy behind Life that created the stars and me, the energy in my breath and which fuels my thoughts, draws me deeper to a place of truth that I cannot deny. I allow this belief to open me to compassion toward myself and others.
I may never get published but now I know my heart and mind. I write with freedom because I believe in the self I’ve discovered, the value of my struggles, and the limitless possibilities of the future.
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