Reading over some past posts, I realize I bring up turning 30 a lot.
I am not one of those people the fears getting older. Not really, and certainly not 30. Sure, I acted like a dork when I found my first gray hair, but that was more theatrics than actual concern. Generally speaking, I am a 4 year old for much of my day, and that is fabulous.
No, I bring up my most recent milestone, not because I fear aging, but because it has been my catalyst for months. The satisfying roundness of 30, or 40 or 50 or 90, speaks to something in me, maybe in all of us. These milestones underscore the finite amount of time we have to dabble in the millions of things that interest us. For those of us striving for enlightenment and inner peace, they demand self-reflection.
I’ve been reflecting a lot lately. What am I doing with myself? What do I want to be doing? Combine this little milestone with the freeing age of my youngest child, and suddenly, I’m on a binge of self-exploration.
I’m writing again, instead of waiting for the right time, the right story, the right state of mind. Regardless of the outcome, publish one day or not, it is incredibly satisfying to spend evenings and nap times exploring stories, watching characters come a live. Only 8 months ago, I didn’t really believe characters could come into their own voices the way two of mine have recently.
At the same time, I’m striving for better health, mindfulness, a luscious garden, and a simple, satisfying lifestyle. Though I’m still in the process of reflecting, and probably always will be, I’m no longer waiting for the right time to begin projects that sing to me. I’m jumping right now.
The new risk, instead of waiting for someday, is taking on too much. So the reflection continues.