Still, if I have another 63 years, could I do enough?
OK, maybe just another 63 summers.
I don’t mean, can’t do everything.
I mean, can’t do everything we planned to do.
Maybe that’s a better definition of that difficult to describe mid-life point where mid-life people realize they are really past mid-life. Mid-point, left behind quite a while ago. I’m not sure where my turning point was. It might have been years ago, it might have been yesterday. Probably closer to yesterday.
Change tactics. If things aren’t working out as we wish, we can always change tactics. In sports, in war, in business – it happens all the time. In relationships too, I suppose.
If there is a pile of work to do or earth to shovel, give me a spade and I’ll start right in.
If there is a pile of personal work to do – head work, belly work, think-work – it isn’t so simple and garden tools don’t seem to work because we can’t de-pile it, wheelbarrow it, or spread around.
When did a decision occur, when did a feeling change?
I don’t know what works for anyone else – difficult enough to find what works for me but it seems clarity is coming around some corner, getting better/closer to some resolutions, getting better/closer to some solutions and feeling more like there is a revolution inside.
Something has to change.
If it can’t be everyone else, that leaves me.
If life is a jam-filled donut, what’s in the middle of yours?
column written/ published from Calgary
morning walk: 0C/49F, we walked just before sunrise – moon sliver and star lit the way as well as street lights; then came dawn, Gusta could see what she was smelling/eating in the tall grass but I still have no idea what it was. Soon enough it will be covered in winter, so she might as well enjoy it while she can …