So I was cruising down the road today in my oh-so-hip ride, a Ford E350. I had a couple of my Littles in the back and my radio turned up. Yeah, I still listen to radio and yeah, I listen to it way too loud. I was singing along to Time For Me To Fly and then I started thinking, or maybe it was dreaming. I'm not sure yet.
I started to wonder when. When would it be "time for me to fly"? No, not as in a big break up like the song, but just spread my wings and take off.
I bet this will sound a lot like I'm not happy in my life or not content with what I have. That couldn't be further from the truth. I love my life. Even when it's hard and ugly and sucky. Believe me, with the stuff I do, hard, ugly and sucky comes along all the time. I am super content with all I have. Who wouldn't be? My life is pretty stinking close to picture perfect.
We all knew I was going to say it. It's what comes next.
A lot of times it feels like there could be more, maybe even should be more. And not just a little more, but a lot more, like rattle the world a little more. You know?
This seems to be a season of looking around and seeing myself small. It feels like all around me I am noticing all the "big" people doing "cool" things. You know how it is. There are those people in your life, your circles that are doing big things, important things, success things, realized dream things. A good bunch of them are younger than I.
It's a strange thing. At 20 I had the time and the means and couldn't figure it out. At 40 I can't fit the pieces together to make the magic happen. Just typing that makes me laugh. Some of my 40-something friends have already died. They left a mark.
Have I? How will I? Will it be the mark I want to leave or just the one I made along the way?
It's hard to put words to what I'm thinking and feeling. That's the rub of writing. Always. Put the internal into the external so someone else outside of yourself can feel and know what you feel and know. It's a riddle without answer.
So it's not that I'm ready for a break up, or not in the traditional sense. I just wonder some days where I will find the space to stretch. It's like I've sold my soul to my own life when I wasn't looking. Not in a bad way, like sold it to the devil, but more like the life I live can consume me if I'm not watching and even when I am the space to breath and think and create is thin.
So I turn on Pandora. I self medicate with old tunes. REO Speedwagon. Boston. Journey. 38 Special.
"just hold on loosely, but don't let go
if you cling to tightly, you're gonna lose control"