Monday, January 12, 2015
The third Set
Time. Too little time. Too much time. Where does time figure into your life right this moment? Do you feel like time is running out? Or, do you feel like you have all the time in the world? If you are over 40 and reading this, my guess is the former. Time is a luxury after 40. Before that, it seems like there is a never ending supply and flitting it away is no big deal. I have done my fair share of flitting.
Nowadays I am conscious of my flitting. There is an underlying fear around it. And it is not a fear of death. It is the fear of not having enough time left to do all the things I still want to do. The only thing that really bothers me about dying is that there are a few people that might suffer when I die. The thought of their pain and grief around my dying is the part that saddens me. I see dying as a transition into another realm. Another energy form. The next big adventure. However, if all that turns out to be bullshit, as it could, then that is why I figure we really need to make the most of this lifetime. But what does that mean really?
There are days when I think I am living up to my own expectations. And then there are days when I am clearly flitting away my precious days. I am quite certain I could be doing more in terms of contributing to the world. But it is so easy to justify our existence even if we are not doing as much as we could. My personal favourite is that I have exceeded a few benchmarks in my lifetime in contrast to my family history, so that in itself is a contribution - sort of. I can proudly say I am the only member of my generation on the paternal side of my family to have earned a university degree. That's something I think. The next generation has fared better in that department, so perhaps I was the initiating force behind an evolution of education in my family.
Tied in first position with that achievement is the manner in which I (and her father) raised my daughter. It may even exceed the education badge when I think about it. I raised her without any physical discipline. This was not learned because gawd knows I was subjected to it countless times as a child. It was the most important thing in the world to me. From the moment she was born, I promised myself I would never spank or hit her. In addition to that, I was always very careful to avoid shaming or psychological abuses. Words were chosen consciously and carefully and raised voices were rare. So, I broke the cycle of physical and psychological abuse in my immediate family and my hope is that, should she have children of her own one day, she will carry on in the same fashion. I am pretty certain that previous generations of my family were never able to break that pattern.
So, there are two examples of how easy it is to rest on one's laurels. Gee, I think to myself, if I never accomplish anything else in my life, at least I did a couple of things to improve the future generations. Yet, still, I beat myself up. It's not enough. I need to do more. Stop flitting. Sometimes I can even talk myself into thinking my job here is done now. I am tired. Those two tasks were exhausting. I just want to flit now. However, what I really think is happening is that I have been on a break. A much needed break before my next contribution. It does feel that way. After all, if I live to the average expected age for a woman in Canada, I have almost another third to go.
The last third. The big one. The final curtain call. The "go big or go home" third. The one that requires the most energy. Perhaps it is why the time in between the second third and the last third required so much flitting. I was storing up for the finale.
2015...the beginning of the third and final set.
And I plan to win the match. (With the odd flit between games.)