Thoughts on becoming older and (maybe?) wiser and thinking about some new things I want to do this year. Posted on Instagram a few days ago, but worth a reposting here!
But didn't want to write that,
admit it here like a secret.
The shame of it..
My hair greying and laughter lines deepening.
People have often told me I look younger than my years- I revel in their surprise when I reveal it for the first time,
except when that someone is a French guy I'm chatting up in a bar and I see him distance himself from my 34 years and my unspoken, but loud desire for deep love and family.
I tell myself over and over
I'm too old to start that thing now.
Wishing to be younger means wishing to believe all roads are open, all directions possible yet.
Step after step I've taken, wrong turns and crossroads and sharp bends and bonds, commitments not easily broken,
until I'm wedded to this path, the road not taken ever more distant.
All of this is illusion, all roads were never ours and years mean something less and more than you believed.
I cannot start that new thing. I'll be 50 by the time I'm done, someone wiser than me said.
You will be 50 anyway, someone wiser than her said.
Or 25 or 60 or 30 or 80 or whatever number you have decided sets a limit to growth.
So I choose to move,
To come unstuck and undone,
collapse and create and seek out the new forks of my path and lines of my life.
What new forks do you want to create for you life? What is that thing that you want to do, but tell yourself you're too old for?