I just turned fifty. There wasn’t much fanfare for the day, just the usual routine. Well usual for us. Roger played his guitar in the office. I sat in the corner of the couch and edited my next book. Soccer was on the TV and the dogs were complaining about not going outside. Is this the stuff of dreams?
Yes, in my world it is.
I have spent forty some odd years waiting. Waiting for something good to happen. Waiting for my attempted good behavior to pay off. Waiting to wake up one morning living the scene of Snow White, with the birds and forest animals singing to me. Not however, waiting for the seven dwarves coming home wanting dinner. I am passed the caretaker stage, thank goodness.
It wasn’t all passive. I’ve read the classics, watched the news, and sought out thought provoking movies. I’ve participated in all night life conversations with varied walks of life. Bob Dylan, bottles of wine, and my soul have had cerebral late night meetings. An immobile saturated sponge, I was absorbing life.
There had to be a point, though, where I started actively living. Why can’t I expect more from life than just inhaling and exhaling until my body deteriorates? Why can’t I live the life of my dreams?
This is where it gets tricky. It took me a long time to strain the excess of my expectations. What do I really need out of life? The best options are usually the stripped down ones. All those bells and whistles just confuse me or the first thing to break. So this chapter of my life will be naked and true.
This blog will be a weekly progress report on how I am attempting the life of my dreams. Taking charge and responsibility for my choices, while maintaining my sanity. Feel free to take notes or just laugh at my attempts. Until next week, Dream On.