“I can only answer the question “What am I to do?” if I can answer that prior question, “Of what story or stories do I find myself part?” – Alasdair MacIntyre
Why does my mind constantly wonder, question and change ideas? At 30 years old I know for a fact that we humans do not know everything- and to try to claim that we know everything, or how everything is, is just foolish, egotistical, but also hopeful. I get that. However, I would much rather confess that I just don’t know the things we don’t know, and focus on the good, and on being as good of a human as possible. I’ve let go of many things out of my control, and I’m holding on tightly to what and who I love most. Love. I can’t stop my plane from crashing, but I can bring myself to peace in acknowledging that I’ve lived a full life that was full of love. My thirtieth has been about roots, commitment, and acceptance. Puffy circles will darken underneath my eyes and I am celebrating the silver hair strands- Like a shiny star for doing life thus far! The idea of death really doesn’t bother me, pending I have no working heart to break from missing my husband and family so much after life.
What does bother me is that as I get closer to death, my time shortens, I am highly aware of it, and I don’t quite have the “to do on earth” list in order. I have vague ideas of the paths I could take, but one life to live. I’m long overdue on updating my mission statement, but I would prefer that this be more of a “mission story” that I can breathe life into and share, and that I can return to at 40 or 50 and know that I participated as a good human, that there is always some goodness in life to seek out. So the lingering question of year thirty has been, “How do I want to do the rest of life?” This journey isn’t ending anytime soon, and there are many bugs to satisfy. That travel bug lives deep inside of me, and can never be fed enough. Will that bug ever be satisfied? There’s a bug that requires projects of kindness and sustainable development, and that makes my heart sad if I don’t listen, or give, enough. A differing bug inside of me tells me to be careful because my heart cares too much. And yet another that says, “Just love yourself and everything else will come naturally”. I don’t think that these bugs will ever go away, and that’s OK because it just makes me human. I would like to dedicate this blog to those bugs- and may this journey motivate you to think about your own demanding, unsatisfied bugs.
