The most amazing thing you can find is yourself.
I’m constantly obsessed with upping my game. Improving my score, strengthening my swing (Steven Pressfield). And I don’t even play sports! (Unless you count being a Nerd Jockey.) My FOMO (fear of missing out) escalated with the recent deaths of my dear brother and two best friends. What if I, like they, die in three months notice, or within hours of notice?
I want to be ready! Time’s awastin’.
I strew notes to self, while reading Elon Musk, Richard Branson, and Diana Nyad; not that I’m likely to become an astronaut or ocean swimmer, but these folks are so waaay out there. My greatest deathbed fear is that I’ve lived below my potential. As paralyzing as box jellyfish (just ask Diana).
Find a way! says Diana, who swam from Cuba to Florida at age 64, on her fifth attempt. In her teens as a competitive swimmer, she did 1000 sit-ups per day, training hard for eight years without a day off, while her coach was secretly molesting her. No excuses, this girl.
I’m really not going to change much and that’s knowing myself, not making excuses. I’m currently out of epiphanies, ahas, ravenous passions. Maybe I used up my quota.
I think Oprah and her posse are mistaken to preach, “find your passion/life purpose/calling”. It’s all marketing, book sales, cable TV and Tony Robbins seminars. (I used to be into the self-help human potential thang. Even Wayne Dyer died recently.)
I’ve answered a “priestly call” (in training I discerned not to enter the Episcopal church business), and at other times was “meant to be” a composer, traveler, wife and mother (miscarried and divorced), performer, humanitarian. I haven’t grasped there may be no such thing as calling lightly.
Except the calling to be myself, any given moment. Today is the best day of my life; as will tomorrow be, if tomorrow comes.