Thoughts again have consumed me this week as to what exactly it is that I want. This has been the year for that and by the end of this year I am determined to decide and to act upon it.
It occurred to me recently that my life at the moment is sort of like a blank palette and I, the artist can paint pretty much any picture I want. A few things are foggy still but I'm getting there.
Actually I'm pretty lucky, there aren't many people who can paint themselves a new life. But here I am at 50, all alone, no real ties here where I've landed for the last eight years, and so ready to move on to something new. And yet, something still keeps me from actually committing to that first stroke of the brush. Most people tell me it is fear. FEAR has never been a problem for me, especially when it comes to changes. But I can't prove them wrong, maybe it is fear.
One little problem is being able to afford the paint I'll need to make the perfect picture of the life I'd like to have but I might can get pretty close. Perfection can come later. And who wants perfection anyway? That would make a pretty dull piece of art I would think. Life shouldn't become a masterpiece until you're all done living. And then, if you're lucky, maybe, just maybe you can leave the painting of your life here on earth so that a few people will cherish it and have it to remember you by.
My goodness I'm quite the philosopher this morning. I need more coffee!
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