Time is short. ​Such a trite statement, and what a shockingly valid observation. I can think of a myriad songs from the '60s that speak to the brevity of our existence: "Wasted on the Way," "Dust in the Wind," "Fly Like an Eagle (Time Keeps on Slipping...,)" and no doubt there are countless others that are echoing in your mind and you read this. Back in the day, 27 seemed to be the age when rock musicians succumbed to drugs. Lately, it's 69, and this time it's all about age. We're closing in on the end, folks.

So, what are you doing today? Is it meaningful? Loving? Valid? Worth expending your breath? As we approach the third act, time matters. Most of us still have our wits and mobility, to a certain extent. I want to use it wisely, and perhaps, at times, even recklessly. Travel. Play. Experiment. We still have the opportunity to get out and be.  

So what holds us back? Okay, sometimes I feel too exhausted to venture beyond my cozy walls, worn out from the sad and sorry forces that have eaten away at my confidence. You, too? Perhaps it's time to move on. This whole cautionary approach is a waste of our lives. I'm not going to hold myself back from any experiences that present themselves to me any longer. Logistics play a role in our day-to-day lives, but other than that, I'm going to strive to be open. See you out there.

​~ cfd
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At what point do our choices become patterns? Some are beneficial... You know, that decision to cut back to one cup of coffee in the morning becomes the "Coffee Ritual." My one cup is now more important to me that when I kept a pot going all day.  And that morning yoga stretch I forced into my routine has become the ONLY way I can get out of bed. But relationships? How is it I have chosen only men who couldn't love me wholeheartedly? Looking at sheer numbers alone, it's gotta come down to me. Perhaps I am the one who can't love wholeheartedly and chose for safety. Or not. What the heck, why try to figure it out now? Whatever the reason, I feel more stable and secure on my own than when I was with a man. And at 64, it seems silly to wonder if there's a man out there who can make me feel as free as I am on my own. If he's out there, he'd better find me. I may have an uncanny ability to find and incorporate varied pleasures into my life, but choosing the right man isn't one of them. Am I alone in here? Who else is crafting a dream life ... and living it alone? Maybe that's what it takes - the freedom to move about at will, create one's own pleasure patterns, and THEN find someone with whom to share it. It's too late for me to grow up with my best friend, and for us to forge patterns together. So now, it's more like two toddlers playing side by side in a sandbox - create the life, share some of it, and keep the healthy patterns going. 
​~ cfd