I really want to learn how to (fill in the blank), but I am so busy.
I would rather be in jeans and a nice shirt, but everyone is wearing (insert fad here)
Okay, so we have all heard these things. Probably from our own mouths and definitely in our minds. I personally am never more self concious then when I am in a dress. I have yet to find one that I think is flattering, yet people are always wanting me to put one on for their “dress-up” event. A few years ago, I rebelled. I bought a new dress shirt, pulled out a nice pair of black jeans, spit shined my boots, chose a bolo tie and belt buckle from my collection and attended the function as myself. Now, the world may see that and label me as a butch, or any other name they want to slap on me. I never claimed that label, I only ever claimed to be me. The event was held to honor a friend and I knew that she liked me for exactly who I am. It was the last chance I would ever have to be myself for her, the event was her funeral.
The whole “I don’t have time” thing?? Let’s be honest. We don’t take time for our dreams because they often take us out of our comfort zone. The last thing I have time for right now is writing a book, much less two! However, I have a choice. I can carry the title of dreamer and bemoan my current state of life or, I can own the title of do-er and change it. Do you carry a title that weighs you down? Or do you own a title that lifts you up?
Practice being old now. Remember, life is what happens when you are busy with other things. The wisdom you want to be able to impart, the stories you want to be able to tell, the friend that you want to be, all of these things start with a choice. You must chose to learn, to change and to be the person of your dreams. Here’s some incentive:
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickles for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.