Earlier this evening I was on the phone. I was speaking with a good friend.
Long story short, one of my many illusions about someone that I care about had been shattered. (In spite of my advanced age, I’m still a bit naive. Bear with me.)
One of the things that I love the most about dalia is that she keeps it real. There is no falseness in her. No pretense about her.
We moved on a bit from discussing my latest minor explosion, to discussing life in general. One of the things that we touched on was my lack of one.
Lest you don’t know, after a very brief stint back in Toronto (as of late November 2010), I moved back to my hometown [name removed to preserve my privacy] (earlier this spring). And although I led a relatively quiet life in my urban environment, here, I’m virtually a recluse.
Thankfully I’m not comfortable with the status quo. Something has been stirring inside of me. I’ve taken a long, hard look at how I’ve lived. From the year I first graduated from university, I reckon I have attempted to make a go of things in the city at least half a dozen times. And each time I’ve returned with my tail between my legs.
Yet after this last attempt, I have no burning desire to go back. I feel as though I’ve wound up back where I started so many times, partly because I belong here.
Ten years ago, I wouldn’t have been caught dead admitting that.
However as I grow older I can’t help but believe that there is a life that I was meant to enjoy and experiences that I were meant to have right here, right now, as is.
There’s a little something else that I learned.
If I am to live the life that I was meant to love, I need to get beyond one of my really deep fears.
For you see, Dear Readers, I think there’s something glorious that scares me.
That keeps me indoors, and away from different events, and yet all the while…Longing for change.
The prospect of A Glorious Life.
As I said, tonight dalia and I talked briefly about living. And it’s only in the aftermath of our discussion that something occurred to me.
There’s a significant part of me that doesn’t want to “get a life”. Mainly because I’m afraid that it’s passed me by.