My morning tea comes with an inspiring tag. Sometimes a game-changer.
Taking a break for a month long cruise with Marie in January left me in a quandary about what to do next. Not just tomorrow – for the rest of my life. At 83, I’m in excellent health, I have a great marriage and family, but most of my life passions – flying, teaching, skiing, publishing, canoodling, etc. – are behind me.
Although 20 more years of life is unlikely, 10 is a reasonable expectation. And I’d like them to mean something to me … and perhaps to others.
I’ve toyed with two new vocations, but struggle with both:
Writer. For a few years, I’ve been posting tales on clapper.com. The process, although rewarding has been extremely hard for me. My mind works best with numbers – not words. Writing has been difficult, if not downright scary.
Gardener. Though I’ve never even grown tomatoes before, this spring I planted a vegetable garden. Most of the seeds that I sprouted in the kitchen died when I replanted them outside. It’s been decades since I was a freshman and, just like 70 years ago, what I don’t know is frightening.
My angst is palpable – and immobilizing. Enough so, that I shared my struggles with Steffanie, a professional counselor:
“I should be a gardener. It’s right in so many ways: It’s outdoors … it involves physical activity … it provides healthy and delicious food … it’s a great example for my grandchildren. But when I go out to the garden, I feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of what I don’t know.
“I should be a writer. Numerous readers have commented on how much they’ve enjoyed my posts. I can sit quietly and think of a multitude of things to say. But when there’s a keyboard in front of me, my mind goes blank.”
After sharing this angst with Steffanie, she said, “When I hear ‘should,’ I like to think ‘wish.’ Rather than, ‘I should be a gardener,’ think ‘I wish I were a gardener.'”
Brilliant.
For a week now, the first thing I do in the morning is spend some time in the garden. Then I come in from the Arkansas heat with a meager harvest and fix a cup of tea. I still don’t know what I’m doing. But I turn to the web and learn a little more. I’m not a gardener yet, but I know more than I did yesterday. And the strawberries I brought in for breakfast were delicious.
And as far as being a writer – this is my first post in months. And I’m looking forward to more soon.