This is just the beginning.
I can send out a tweet. Or a facebook status update. Or an instagram. Someone might like it or retweet it or whatever, but will anyone remember what I said? 100 years from now, will that profound tweet be making any kind of difference in the world? I’m not sure that anyone will remember what I said an hour from now.
I’m starting to think some of the though-provoking questions and conclusions I've made about life and love and all manner of soul-searching would be better suited to something more permanent.
I don’t want to be forgotten amidst the chatter of meaningless words and phrases floating around the interwebs.
100 years from now, I want people to remember me as someone who had something important to say and it mattered.
I think about that guy, Bret. He lives a small quiet life in Wisconsin and no one would ever think twice looking at him about what resolve and determination he has. About what he has overcome and what his entire life can teach us about humanity and spirit and love.
There’s a line in this One Republic song: ‘I hope you spend your days and they all add up.’
I want my days to add up.
I don’t want to waste one second of this precious gift not being me.
I want to leave behind a legacy of LOVE and LIFE.
I have this feeling inside me…like maybe I was put here for something great. That when I spend my days at a job I don’t love, as a number no one will remember….I’m wasting this gift. That my days don’t add up.
Some days it physically hurts my heart to be there knowing that I’m not DOING anything. I’m not making an imprint on the world. My heart and talents could be better served elsewhere. I get choked up some days thinking about how I have so much to give and time is just ticking by.
I don’t know what this means for the next decade.
I don’t know how I’ll end up.
But I can feel it in my soul.
The stirrings of something BIG.
I DO know I’m not wasting any more time.
I do know that when I turn 40, I can look back on the past 10 years and be proud of the ‘editing’ I did. I can reflect on the chipping away at the pieces that don’t belong. The way I allowed the best parts of me to emerge and grow and share with others. I can look back on that time spent in laughter and love with the people that really matter. I can tangibly hold in my hand words I’ve written, things I’ve made, pictures I’ve taken- all showcasing the best parts of this one incredibly imperfect life.
At 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90, 100….I can say ‘I lived.’