I woke up one birthday morning thrilled to partake of all the magical events that were planned in my honor. From husband and step children to best friends and work mates, I was treated to a day-long celebration worthy of a queen (I am a Leo after all!). As I lay my head on my pillow that night and the glow of the day began to fade, I realized that just by living, I had achieved a significant but dreaded milestone. I was now middle aged.
I thought more and more about this ‘age’ thing and as I realized that I had probably lived over half of my life, I sat straight up in bed. My mind began rewinding – like the film on those old microfiche machines – to the day just passed, to the last year, to the last five years and beyond. I thought about my life – the highs, the lows, the successes, the failures, the times I wanted to give up (and almost did), and those exciting, ‘want to jump out of my skin’ feelings every time another dream came true.
And then, I realized that I had done everything I ever really wanted to do.
I didn’t sleep much that night.
The next day I called one of my dear aunts looking for a little sympathy. Her response?
“Heifer, call me back when you get to be my age…then maybe you’ll really have something to talk about.” After we both stopped laughing, she reminded me of how young I still was, and how remarkable it was to have already realized all my dreams. She reminded me that I was healthy, and was surrounded by people who admired, respected, and loved me. I had created a career and life that most people only dream about. I lived in a beautiful country, in a beautiful house, and had a beautiful family. She told me that getting older was nothing to be afraid of, and that I would be on this earth as long as God had stuff for me to do. Our conversation ended with her telling me to ‘get to praying’ for guidance and planning my ‘next big thing’. She also told me to start taking better care of myself.
That was fifteen years ago.
I took my aunt’s advice and I’ve dreamed a bunch more dreams. And as those dreams have come true, more have been born. I’m literally making up my life as I go. (Thanks and Praises!)
Things have not always gone according to the plan though. Some who knew me then have said that my life is not as charmed as it used to be. I have encountered challenges that I swore I would never experience as long as I lived. Sometimes those challenges have brought me to my knees. Caused me to empty the tear ducts. Caused me to yell at God asking “What the hell are you doing?” I’ve even thrown a few massive pity parties. But I shut them down early because, well, no one comes. And nothing’s sadder than a pity party that no one comes to.
And I’m still going through stuff. I’m still working on me. Because this is a cradle to the grave joy ride, with a full complement of bumps, bruises, spills, and chills.
Besides, what’s life without some challenges? How can we find out who we are if we don’t get the opportunity to work through life? How can we possibly discover our depth, our courage, our strengths, our joys, our boundaries, our resilience, our resolve if we don’t encounter some resistance? How can we grow if everything always goes our way?
When I’ve found myself standing knee deep in some crap I don’t remember creating or asking for, I’ve learned to get quiet. I close my eyes and breathe. Meditate. And pray for clarity, or peace, or a miracle. And I pray with confidence, knowing that whatever I have requested will come. I don’t fight or resolve to hang on. Nor do I ask why things happened or are the way they are. I simply ask that whatever I need to do, be, learn, or remember be revealed, so I can get on with the business of living. This for me is the art of dreaming and manifesting those dreams.
I’ve always been encouraged to share my life’s stories with a wider audience. My friends have been advocating for a book. I decided to begin with this blog. It is my intention to encourage you…to make friends with your best friend – yourself. To speak life into your lives. To keep trying. To keep dreaming. Or to start dreaming. Again. Because you’re here. You’re still here.
And so am I.
