I am behind on my #scintilla posts. I've been at a conference this week, which already taxes my brain, and I want to give these posts the most attention I can. Here is Day 5.
Show a part of your nature that you feel you've lost. Can you get it back? Would it be worth it?
I think as we get older, we forget the little things that used to make us so happy: lemonade on a hot day, spending time with our friends, the smell of the air before rain, ice cream. Happiness gets complicated and tied up somehow in our jobs, our self-worth, our image of ourselves and what we want others to think we are. I've been thinking a lot about this in this particular year. My word of the year, as you may remember, is tend. And one of the things I've been attempting to do is tend to my relationships, but also to take notice of the small, simple things in a day and allow them to remind me of the wonder and hope I used to feel about getting older. It is not an easy task.
Lately, I have had these weird stress filled moments where I can't stop feeling as though I'm in a space without air. I worry too much. I am too serious. I want so much to relax, to trust myself and the universe.
There are times I wish I was a college junior again, brash and brave, confident. I've written about this before, this losing my muchness. I think the spirit is there, whispering to me about risks and chances, about belief and bravery, reminding me that as Seneca says, "Even to live is an act of courage."
I try not to think of this nostalgically, I know the college aged me was also sad and confused, and not completely sure about who she was. But man, she tried and she stood up for her friends and told stories about what she knew and what she didn't know and what she hoped one day she would know. What I long for, I think, is the feeling of cashing a paycheck on Friday, riding to the beach with the windows down, songs on the radio you are convinced are about your life, not thinking about what the next two days will bring except sun and laughter and maybe too many margaritas. I don't want those experiences, again, but I want to feel that way, free and happy.
I have glimpses now, an unexpected message from a friend, a bottle of good wine, great conversations, sleeping with the windows open, road trips, every time I laugh with Michelle.
I don't want to trade what I know now or my life as it is now. I don't want to give up the richness of my understanding. But sometimes, I wish I could be just a little reckless.