A change in seasons sometimes brings about changes in character, moods, and dispositions. Just as “Spring Cleaning” marks the airing out of what’s been closed up all winter. It’s a preparation for the summer breezes, flip-flops, and fruit salads.
In life this similar preparation occurs. “Spring Cleaning” in one’s life is getting rid of the baggage of the Winter Season of your life. You shake off the dust that’s collected on the throw rug of your emotions, hang it out on the Line of Courage, and beat it until all the years of abuse, frustrations, and disappointments are gone with the wind. You wash down the Walls of Inferiority and prepare them for new artwork. In place of the old, beautiful framed works of Stability, Encouragement, and Faith hang in their places. You stand back and admire them proudly, knowing the Creator of these works is still working on you.
Fall has become that season for me. I’m starting with one room at a time. Getting things in order has been long over-due. The Summer of my life has passed and it was truly hot. Steamy and long were the days causing slight confusion and anguish in the halls of my mind. It was all part of “The Plan”; lessons were taught and some were learned. Did I get it all? No, but I’m catching up.
I’m smiling now as I sit in the park and the crisp winds of Autumn tickle my ears. The scents of accomplishments drift along, the aroma so strong I can almost taste them. I can hear songs of Victory softly playing in the distance…I’ll dance now anyway.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
40 and A Day ©
With the exception of one, the pivotal age of growing tends to be linked with a birthday ending with a zero.
Twenty-One is the iconic “Legal” age. Although technically you’re considered an adult at 18, it’s not until you’re 21 when you can really flex. The nervous twitch dissolves when you hand over your driver’s license to show proof that no laws are being broken (this time) with the purchase of the six-pack on the counter. You left hand is raised with enthusiasm when the police officer raises the question, “Who’s here over the age of 18?” when a situation calls for an ‘adult’. The awkwardness slips away as the realization sets in that you no longer need your parent’s permission to sleep over at your friend’s house. Little things like that are golden.
So, with that in mind, I bumped around my 20’s (literally) making the “allowed” mistakes and missing the lessons of most of them. By 26 I had it figured out…or so I thought. I still had some lessons to learn and bruises to earn. Through others, I began to see what I was missing; in more ways than one. I suffered and endured heartache, and experienced loss like none other. I had my share of fun too; the kind of fun that is laced with blissful ignorance and freedom. Yes, parties, traveling, quitting jobs because the manager made you mad or simply because you didn’t like it are all acceptable when you’re in your 20’s. I enjoyed them, but was also happy to be done with them.
Thirty slid in rather quietly, which should’ve been my warning. I was still grieving and trying to find my footing when out of nowhere, I was suddenly 35, working with no clue as to what I wanted to for a career (still wrestling with that one) and just questioning everything I did. Some old habits from my 20’s were lingering and tapping me on my shoulder, but I pressed through. A medical procedure forced me to grab hold of some hard truths and I accepted that is was “OK” to be me flaws and all. I’d like to say that by the time I reached 39, I had it all together. I didn’t. There were more questions and stumbling, even more questions and lessons (some learned)
40.
Here it is, and here I am. I’m curious about it. I’ve heard all the stories. The phrase “40 is the NEW 30” doesn’t sit well with me because I’ve had enough of the 30’s. I told myself that I wouldn’t fall into the “Pre-40” pit, but I did slip in for a few days. I tried to tell myself that my mood was attributed to “other” things, but my True self knew better. About a week before the big day, I fell into a funk that was so bad I didn’t want anybody around. I didn’t want talk about it, because I couldn’t explain it. I just wanted to be alone. I prayed constantly. I cried periodically. I couldn’t sleep or focus. I was a sad site to see. I started having heart-to-heart talks with myself and doing what I thought would snap me out of it. Praying (a Given!), Tom & Jerry, and Diana Ross (Diana works every time…) What does it feel like? I haven’t noticed the shift yet.
I’ll keep you posted…
Twenty-One is the iconic “Legal” age. Although technically you’re considered an adult at 18, it’s not until you’re 21 when you can really flex. The nervous twitch dissolves when you hand over your driver’s license to show proof that no laws are being broken (this time) with the purchase of the six-pack on the counter. You left hand is raised with enthusiasm when the police officer raises the question, “Who’s here over the age of 18?” when a situation calls for an ‘adult’. The awkwardness slips away as the realization sets in that you no longer need your parent’s permission to sleep over at your friend’s house. Little things like that are golden.
So, with that in mind, I bumped around my 20’s (literally) making the “allowed” mistakes and missing the lessons of most of them. By 26 I had it figured out…or so I thought. I still had some lessons to learn and bruises to earn. Through others, I began to see what I was missing; in more ways than one. I suffered and endured heartache, and experienced loss like none other. I had my share of fun too; the kind of fun that is laced with blissful ignorance and freedom. Yes, parties, traveling, quitting jobs because the manager made you mad or simply because you didn’t like it are all acceptable when you’re in your 20’s. I enjoyed them, but was also happy to be done with them.
Thirty slid in rather quietly, which should’ve been my warning. I was still grieving and trying to find my footing when out of nowhere, I was suddenly 35, working with no clue as to what I wanted to for a career (still wrestling with that one) and just questioning everything I did. Some old habits from my 20’s were lingering and tapping me on my shoulder, but I pressed through. A medical procedure forced me to grab hold of some hard truths and I accepted that is was “OK” to be me flaws and all. I’d like to say that by the time I reached 39, I had it all together. I didn’t. There were more questions and stumbling, even more questions and lessons (some learned)
40.
Here it is, and here I am. I’m curious about it. I’ve heard all the stories. The phrase “40 is the NEW 30” doesn’t sit well with me because I’ve had enough of the 30’s. I told myself that I wouldn’t fall into the “Pre-40” pit, but I did slip in for a few days. I tried to tell myself that my mood was attributed to “other” things, but my True self knew better. About a week before the big day, I fell into a funk that was so bad I didn’t want anybody around. I didn’t want talk about it, because I couldn’t explain it. I just wanted to be alone. I prayed constantly. I cried periodically. I couldn’t sleep or focus. I was a sad site to see. I started having heart-to-heart talks with myself and doing what I thought would snap me out of it. Praying (a Given!), Tom & Jerry, and Diana Ross (Diana works every time…) What does it feel like? I haven’t noticed the shift yet.
I’ll keep you posted…
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