When I was a Sophomore in college, I wrote a list of New Year’s resolutions that was two pages long. It probably had bullet points, subcategories and an appendix; like any good News Years resolution list should.
I wrote line after line of concrete ways I would improve myself, my life, my friends lives, their friends lives… you know, the usual. And I’m proud to say, I hit every, single mark.
For two whole days.
Then on New Years Day 2002, a full 6 weeks before I delivered my third son in as many years, I followed tradition and wrote three pages worth of detailed, well ordered goals. I think mostly because being honest and writing “survive” seemed uninspired. I mean, why couldn’t I learn to speak Japanese fluently, knit leper bandages, master French cooking, run a marathon and teach my 18 month old to read during 2002?
Now that I’m 46. Now that I’ve realized goals don’t live on paper, but have to breath if they want to survive, I cut my list for 2022 down to one line.
And that is enough.
I wrote keep going, because I finally understand that hope isn’t always shiny, it’s dark and gritty. The soil is rich with the charred ashes of old dreams; the burnt charcoal fairy dust of growth; it sinks into the earth like spilled milk. The past triumphs, mistakes, joys and sorrows are all churned up in the generous clay that cradles the fragile roots of what if.
It’s the place where new dreams start to grow.
Keep Moving Forward
Over that stretch of time from then until now, I’ve learned if you want to get anywhere, or do anything, you have to keep moving. Physically, mentally and emotionally, moving. You can’t give up because it’s uncomfortable, or new, or is taking longer than you expected. #dammit
You have to keep moving even when you feel boxed in, wedged like an orange segment in the tight, squeezing spaces of growth. You have to keep going even though any measurable progress happens about as fast as tectonic plates shifting.
But moving isn’t enough. I’ve learned you have to be grateful for even the army crawl inching forward in the mud moments, because gratitude is the fuel movement runs on.
Life has taught me to be grateful for a seat. Any seat! Even if it is the middle seat of the back row, in front of the lavatory, that’s leaking blue lav water onto my white canvas slip-ons.
Forward is forward.
I’ve learned you have to be grateful to grow exponentially.
Grateful, even if you end up seated between two 6’8 350 pound identical male twins, who share everything, including one pair of earbuds.Grateful even if everytime you try to raise your hand to grab your complimentary beverage, your movement yanks out the ear bud from Twiddle Dee who glares at you while Tweedle Dum grinds out the words, “DO YOU MIND?”
It doesn’t matter where you sit.
What matters is that you are on board and you are on your way. Anything is possible when hope is your copilot.
And besides, who knows? Maybe next time an ear bud comes shooting out of one of the twins ears, it will land in your drink and shock him? And, then the flight attendant will take pity on your earwax contaminated beverage and give you an extra bag of pretzels and an entire unopened can of shining, shimmering, knight in shining armor gleaming Diet Coke
#agirlcandream #imonmyway #wannacome #dontbringtoomuchbaggage