Upon wishing me “Happy New Year” this morning, my mother proceeded to ask if I had any resolutions. My answer was “no”. However, I’ve come to believe this is not the case. I do have one very important resolution – to thrive.
The dictionary defines thrive in this way:
[thrahyv] Show IPA
verb (used without object), thrived or throve, thrived or, thriv·ing.
to prosper; be fortunate or successful.
to grow or develop vigorously; flourish: The children thrived in the country.
1150–1200; Middle English thriven < Old Norse thrīfast to thrive, reflexive of thrīfa to grasp
It feels as if I have simply been existing. And, I want more.
I long for vibrancy, electricity, passion and grand moments of exultation.
I want to know that every breath I take, from this moment on, means something.
Sadly, I’ve come to realize that life is much too short.
Within the blink of an eye, we’re suddenly older, or sicker or simply too tired to care.
I don’t want to wake up some day and realize that this magical ride known as life has simply been siphoned away.
I no longer want to let fear hold me back. Instead, I want to use the fear to vault into the unknown. Fear means you’re doing something right, right? It means you’re stepping out of the comfort of the known and plotting a course into a realm of possibility. And yes, there’s always a bit of failure along the way, but it’s no longer okay to let setbacks rule my existence, or the journey I will make for myself.
So, I am resolute. I want to live, thoroughly, compassionately, passionately and fully.
This is my 2014 life resolution.
My new beginning.
And yes, I suddenly have the urge to say “Live long and prosper”. I never said I wasn’t a Geek.
It’s quiet now.
My mind, which races through the days
slows like molasses.
Darkness permeates the room
allowing me to float effortlessly
No restraint, untethered and free.
sparkling bits of universal dust
drift about like fairy magic.
My heart says “make a wish”
Then suddenly, the word appears.
The letters are crisp and clean but with a softness about the edges.
Re-entry into the body is gentle.
There is –
An unsent card –
dancing ballerina –
memories of moments shared.
I don’t know what to do with them all.
Currently they reside in a neat pile
next to pink leather.
Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like
to be heartless.
Without the inclination to keep happy – Summer windswept bits.
But if I was, would I be the same?
In the place of warmth
Cool and controlled.
In the next life?