Twenty years and counting!

Next month (May 3rd) I will reach the age of fifty five. Not really a milestone of any sort I know but it occurs to me that both my dad and my Grandad died in their seventies and both on April 1st. Although I’m the youngest of five I tend to think I’m more like my dad than any of my siblings so, if that similarity carries through, then it’s very likely that I have just twenty or so years left. A sobering thought to be sure and it’s got me thinking. Could I have done better for myself with this life? Have I grasped opportunities as they arose, taken a chance or two when the easier route would be to sit tight? Could I have bettered myself in my career? Should I have had kids? Am I satisfied with my lot? Am I happy? Have I been a good husband…? And what about the future. What do I want to do in the time that’s left? Should I draft up one of those ‘to do’ lists of things I’d like to do before I die? Maybe I ought to start planning my funeral already, just in case? ;O)

I’m not panicking it’s just that these are the thoughts that have crossed my mind of late. Of course, the first part is of little or no consequence. The past is done and dusted so I don’t really see much point in dwelling on what might have been. Do I have regrets? Yes, I probably do, but I believe everything happens for a reason and so even though there are some things I might have done differently, the chances are I learned something from the mistake. And if you look at it in that way, maybe it wasn’t a mistake after all. Perhaps the lesson is the important part. I sincerely believe that we’re all here to learn and to teach as we go along our life path. A bad example is still an example after all and if we learn from our own, or somebody else’s, mistakes then that’s a form of progress.

Through the years I’ve had a handful of what I would call epiphanies. Something approaching a premonition but not quite. One was about marrying Reet and another was about becoming a postman. These were just very strong gut feelings which came to pass. There was another one about me becoming a lollipop man too but that hasn’t happened yet and, if it does, I strongly believe I will have another epiphany. One where I see myself beating some snotty nosed, loud mouthed little oik about the head with my children crossing Sign! Seriously, it isn’t a job I could ever see myself doing and yet that feeling that it just might happen has never quite gone away.

So what should I do with my remaining years, I wonder? I remember when I was very young I went through a phase where I believed I was here to do something special. To make a huge difference to the world. I had no idea what that something was but I felt I was here to share a most important message. Lofty ideas eh? And in some ways the idea is still with me. Somewhere, deep inside, the gnawing, nagging idea that I have something to say, is still simmering gently on the back boiler. So if I have a need or a wish to do anything at all before I die, it’s to get that message, that revelation, out of me and into the world. I think that’s why I keep on writing. Even though I’ve had a drought on the word front of late, the urge to write has never gone away, just the inspiration. So now I figure I’ve got twenty odd years discover what it is I’m trying to share. Sounds like plenty of time but since I’ve already been at it for a good twenty five years without success it narrows the odds considerably.

I’ve grown up a little though. I’m no longer expecting to deliver some earth shattering, mind blowing piece of prose that will instantly transform the world into a peaceful, loving community, no awe inspiring insight into how we should all get along and be nice to each other. But I do believe it’s special. I think that every one of us, in our own way, is sending a message. We’re also receiving messages from others as we do so. Not always in a big way, not with any global significance, but in our own small communities, our families, friends, fellow bloggers. Words do have power, I believe that. What we write in our journals can influence others as much as a moving song or a rousing speech. Of course, not everyone will be nodding their heads in agreement with what I’m writing here, some will think I’m just babbling. But maybe one or two of you will agree that when we put our ideas out there as we do with every journal entry, when we open ourselves up and share a little of ourselves with the small community of readers, we may just make someone sit up and think about something. And maybe that someone will be influenced enough to change their ways or attitudes. Maybe they’ll be inspired to write something of as much importance from their own hearts. And isn’t that what we’re looking for? To be read and for people to take something from the reading, even if it’s just a smile or a giggle?

Most of my journal entries are quite light hearted. I try to goof it up and have a laugh with it along the way, but some of you may remember my earlier journal entries when we were with AOL. I wrote some deeply personal entries about my family and it’s those entries that mean more to me. Sure I enjoy the fun ones too but when I’m writing from the heart, all guns blazing and burning a trail across the page, that’s when I feel like I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing. And this is where it gets confusing because I’m now thinking that maybe my message, this thing I so need to share, is actually unfolding in all these journal entries a little at a time. Maybe I’m not going to write a blockbusting world saving masterpiece but just a series of heartfelt entries that touch others of the same ilk. Perhaps it’s just the act of being myself and putting myself out there that’s going to affect people. I certainly read many blogs that inspire me. Some have angered and upset me too but that’s okay, it’s all grist for the mill and fuels further reading and writing on my own part.

I’d like to learn to play a musical instrument. Now that’s not too ambitious and it’s certainly something I can work on. Through various stages of my life I’ve wanted to be a drummer, a pianist and a saxophonist, maybe now is the time to take one of them on. That idea, along with a couple of others, came to me as I lay in bed last night thinking over what I’d written. I’d also like to write my own epitaph. I’ve been thinking about this for some time and it isn’t as easy as I first thought. I mean, do I go for something amusing or something dour and insightful? Well, okay, it’s got to be funny but it needs to be something really special and memorable if it’s to be my last words to the world. And I’ve only got twenty years to conjure something up!

But It’s a strangely taboo subject, dying. I mentioned to someone in work that I reckon I’ve only got about twenty years or so left and they were shocked. “Oh, don’t even talk like that!” was their response. But hey, we’re all going to die, no point avoiding the issue. Personally, I’m not afraid of dying at all. I’m quite looking forward to that next big step in the great adventure we call life. That doesn’t mean I want to go tomorrow, it just means that when the time comes I’m ready. The nature of my passing however, is a little more worrying. (I’d like to die in my sleep like my grandad did, not screaming and crying like the passengers on his bus.) Seriously though, I don’t fancy dying in any sort of pain, who would? But I must admit I’d like to know when I was going to go. I once dreamed I was asking someone (an angel?) when I was going to die and I woke up just as they were going to tell me. I was so disappointed! I’ve had many dreams where I’ve actually died. And I once dreamed that I was helping others to make the transition from this life to the next (weird stuff dreams).

But just imagine if you knew the exact date you were due to go. Wouldn’t that be great? You could put all your affairs in order, say your goodbyes, make plans to ‘contact’ your loved ones back here (and indeed, over there). You could even plan your own funeral. (Now that could be a laugh and a half, how about a vicars and tarts dress theme for the occasion?). Most importantly though, you could spend heaps on your credit card without having to pay it back.

Of course, it’s easy talking about such things when they’re still quite a way off but I wonder I’d really cope and how I’d actually spend that time if I knew they were my last few weeks? How would you spend yours?

As you can see, my beliefs do kind of edge towards the idea of reincarnation. It’s a much more comforting thought than just being worm food. And let’s face it, if I’m wrong, it won’t matter anyway. I wonder what I’ll come back as or whether I’ll even have a choice in the matter?

As for the other stuff, the material things like career prospects and wealth etc. I don’t have a great deal of concern for them. I’ll never be rich but I don’t think I’ll ever have serious money problems. I’ve believed for some years now that I/we are being looked after on that score. Mind you, with Reet still out of work, I could be wrong and that definitely wouldn’t bode well for the future! As I’ve said, I’m mostly content with where I am in my life. Sure, things could always be better in some areas but who’d want everything to be perfect? How boring would that be? And besides, it’s how we deal with those very challenges that shapes our lives and, quite possibly, prepares us for the next. And wherever the next twenty years takes me I’m sure it’ll be an interesting journey. That’s assuming I don’t get run over by a bus in the meantime, of course!

Toodle-Pip. x