Breathe, pause, and breathe again. . .
I am beginning a new book. As I “see” it now, it will be a book of essays that will drive home to the reader the idea that just because we are moving into a later stage of life, we need not assume that our joys will diminish. On the contrary, for most people they will flourish because they are relieved of myriad responsibilities they were saddled with in the earlier decades of life. Children are grown and educated. Retirement is at hand or already being enjoyed. Fewer expenses have to be worried over. Down-sizing has become the ideal and time for relaxation is now the norm.
Slowing down means that all those projects or hobbies we always wished there were time for can now be pursued. The unread books stacked by the bedside or next to the comfy chair in the living room can finally be devoured, either savored or quickly forgotten. It matters not. In fact, so few things matter in the way every thing seemed to matter when we were in the prime of life. We can simply take time to breathe, pause and breathe again, knowing that we, and only we are in charge of what we decide to accomplish, or not, today. It’s a delicious space to live in.
Becoming committed to the idea that life is to be appreciated, in the moment, each moment as it happens, isn’t a new concept. Unfortunately, few of us “lived here” very often. Our minds were on the future, the next task to be accomplished; the next promotion to be sought or the next child to get educated. Looking to the future and counting the years to the freedom that has finally visited many of us is what I want to address in this next book. We have reached that place we dreamed of so long ago. What we do with it is uncharted. And that can be both exciting and intimidating.
As I look at my own life, I feel excited. I am grateful that my “work” isn’t done, but neither is it demanding more of me than I want to give. The gift of a somewhat retired life, my gift specifically, is having the time to fully appreciate the power of now, the power of nothingness. Which is, of course, the power of everythingness. This is a space I’m growing into in these days and weeks, hopefully months and years too, since turning 74. Everythingness, what a glorious doorway to the unfolding of a life already well lived, and yet one that is ripe for far more living.
Each one of us can move forward with the assurance that just as in the past, the opportunities that will present themselves have been divinely selected for our joy and edification. All we need to do is breathe, pause and breathe again.
