So the new year begins, this year I turn 67, last year I got two new granddaughters, today is the anniversary of my father’s death, next week is my husband’s birthday and so it goes, on and on.
One moment there is joy, the next my heart breaks, in between there is peace or ennui. This river raft ride we call life is not a flat and uneventful journey. The water is changeable at every turn and the winds come suddenly and just as suddenly they dissipate and the calm descents upon us like a cozy wrap on a chilled day.
I have always enjoyed the ride, the rapids and the pools, indeed I have even been known to stir the waters, when they were too calm, as easily as I have stretched out in the still water. I have needed the variety to truly feel alive.
These days however, I wonder as the numbers on my age soar to heights I have difficulty grasping, if my attitude towards the ride will change. I do tire more easily, what used to take me 20 minutes now takes 40. And my fantasies have changed from daring exploits to a small home by the sea where I live quiet days of reading and writing, minding a flowerbed and a big soft dog with intermittent visits from grandchildren and good friends. Not exactly the dreams of wild forays into foreign lands and mountain scaling challenges of my youth.
What does it mean when your dream life changes? Are you changed? Is it a message from your subconscious? Is it significant at all?
If I found myself in that hamlet by the sea with the large furry companion for say 6 months in a row, would my fantasies turn back to adventures of travel and trial?
Who knows!
Today is, as I began this rant, a day as any other, full on its own, shouldered by a past and a future and with space enough in it for my ruminations on living. How fortunate am I that the tools for such indulgence are available to me today.
Thank you and I will keep coming.