I count it as miraculous that every day that we open
our eyes we get to write, and rewrite, the story of our lives.
Having just celebrated a birthday, it’s not surprising
that I’ve been thinking a lot about who I am and how I got here. And even more,
about where I want to go.
Now it’s true that we don’t get to dictate the prologue
or earliest chapters of our lives. But once past the beginnings, we do co-create
on the table of contents…as life constantly requires that we add to, revise or
delete these entries.
Chapter 4: Be an international singing sensation? That
one (totally aspirational), was deleted decades ago. Chapter 6: Gift the world
two amazing women. Check. Chapter 12: Sign up for the Amazing Race with my
youngest, Karima? Hmmm…
There comes a time that each of us has to pick up
the pen and begin to compose. And once we do this, we can no longer deny
authorship. We have to own the reality
that we get to create the characters in our life story. We choose to insert or
delete the drama. We decide when to alter the environment and when compelled, to
change direction.
While we don’t get to erase what’s already transpired
in our life stories, we always get to write the next chapter. In fact, we keep
the pen the whole time, until it’s dropped – or plied – out of our hands!
I’m acutely aware that others will not necessarily
write my story the same way I will. It motivates me to be aware of what I do
versus what others see. But even more it reinforces for me the necessity of writing
my own.
I get sad when I see people - of all ages - slow down
or stop their pens – or keystroke or swipes – prematurely. When they decide their
story isn’t worth it. That they’re too tired. Too lazy. Too old. Too…
I’m just too curious to see where my pen’s gonna lead
me next that I just don’t understand giving up.
But I get it. I’ve only got my story and my pen. And
don’t you know I’m gonna keep on writing til I run out of ink.
