I can’t remember times as difficult as these, and I’ve been around the sun a few dozen times.
I — as well as you if you’re over 65 — am closer to the age of 100 than to the age of 30.
That is a truly remarkable thought when you let it sink in. I mean, remember, we were told not to trust anyone over 30 because they were “over the hill.” Looking at it through the eyes of immortal teens, 30 just seemed so, well, “old.” Of course, that decade flashed by in an instant, and at 40, we started to feel like grown-ups. Then, came the fifties, bifocals, a slightly expanded paunch, planning for retirement, and adult children (who were also fearing 30). Before you could say “I can now take money from my IRA without penalty,” the sixties knocked on the door.
It is the cycle of life. Despite magical thinking and a healthy dose of denial, to all, it finds its way.
Yet, again, as I’m sure for you too, aging doesn’t mean I’m going to curl up in a ball and wait for the grim reaper to knock on my door. I’m still vital and active. I still have dreams. After COVID has become a thing of the past, I will be on the road again, radio blasting, singing to my old faves as I head down that long ribbon of highway, hugging and visiting the people and places I’ve so missed.
As far as I know, I’ve still got several years ahead of me, so I’m back in school, studying a philosophy most of us equate with the “Law of Attraction.”
As a requirement for the class, we are required to journal regularly; something I’ve never done consistently.
Don’t misunderstand. I obviously like writing; this column in many ways is somewhat of a public journal. What holds me back is that I don’t like to write with a pen on paper. My mom wanted me to be a doctor; I learned to write as sloppily as one, but that’s as far as I got. So, to that end, if I record my thoughts in a journal, I won’t be able to decipher my hen scratches when I want to read them. I simply write too quickly, as I’m trying to keep up with my brain, which goes into overdrive. Should I slow down, while I’d be able to read it, my thoughts would evaporate before they got to paper; an empty journal is tragic.
Moreover, what happens if I have a life-changing revelation and my diary is not with me? Future generations will be deprived of my brilliance because I left my journal at home. How horrible would that be!
So, the obvious solution for a perfectionist like me who cannot do it perfectly? Don’t write.
Of late, however, I discovered the glories of an electronic journal, Day One, which syncs to all my mobile devices, computer, and even my watch. It allows me to record and tag my thoughts at any time, automatically logging the date, time, location, and even the weather at that moment. I can attach photos or images should I so choose.
One literally thought-provoking built-in feature is it asks a daily question, ranging from “what is your dream chocolate bar?” to “what happens when you die?” [Read more…]
