Learning to Fly

Sometimes you just want to check out. I don't mean suicide or drugs or even grave depression. I mean more of the nagging feeling that everything is going wrong, you can't catch a break, you can't find your center, every smile is forced. It's not getting up on the wrong side of the bed; it's not wanting to get out of bed.

There's an old saying that goes something like this:

Sometimes the only way to learn to fly involves being pushed off a cliff.

That's the way I'm feeling these days. I so want to fly. I want to soar. I'm just not sure how. (I'm also not sure I've actually hit the edge of the cliff yet.)

Then I feel incredible guilt at the selfishness of these thoughts.

I'm not loving these extremes. Yet, I am clinging to my belief that I will fly again.

I do not recommend the combination of quitting smoking, finalizing a divorce and job hunting.

It's A Wonderful Life

As I write this on my birthday, I must admit to a few thoughts of "what if..."

So. let's play George Bailey. What if I'd never been born?

I did not (and will not) discover a cure for any disease. I did not invent anything that will improve mankind. I did not spread the gene pool. I did not do a lot of things that I hope I may have the ability and the time to do.

Tonight I will say my prayers and I will start them with the same prayer I have said and amended since I was a little girl.

Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.

I go off on my own from there so I won't bore you with that. But, most of my follow-up is about the gifts of my life and the abundance I have. Oh sure, I throw a few things in that are extremely and vitally selfish -- I'm human!

As another year has been acknowledged in my fleeting life, I mostly marvel at the gift of time. I hope I have more.

Even if I don't, I can put my head on the pillow, say my prayers and know that I have a wonderful life.

Happy birthday to me.