This year, while still very young, has me feeling old. I know no-one likes a Debbie Downer so I’ll keep the downing to a minimum. Essentially the hit my immunity took a couple of months ago has left my body a wreck, prone to falling ill again and also making the recovery very slow. Not one to pop pills, my new best friends are ginger, lemon, honey and hot water. Oh, let’s not forget good old black pepper. That leaves me thus: a blocked-nosed, pallid-faced, lackluster little dreamer.
Oh no, the dreaming must not stop. Though I read something profound on a traveller’s page the other day, about not thinking of something as a dream, but as a plan. Inspiring. That’s what it was. Why do we relegate the things we want with every atom of our being into those wispy puffs of fantasy that disappear faster than the sleep we rub from our eyes each morning? Why must it be a dream? Why not a goal, a plan? Don’t get me wrong, it’s a wonderful thing to dream, I’d be lost without it. However, for a dream to have substance, there must be some work to propel it forward from the ether.
As you can see, in all the time that I try to force myself to nap (and fail over and over again) in a bid to regain some energy, I do some thinking. And I thought, in relation to the promise I made myself this last birthday, why was that trip so monumental? I mean, it wasn’t like I went on an ayahuasca (which I didn’t know existed until a few months ago) self-revelatory trip to some obscure town in South America. No, I did something most people would probably find tame, I went on a trip, albeit alone, spent a week there and thoroughly enjoying myself, came back a happy kitty.
So, what changed? It was the promise. It was this: before, I’d always waited around for things to happen. Waited for someone to make me feel special on my birthday and ended up disappointed. But in all fairness I had said I didn’t want a fuss (when an over-the-top fuss was what I did want). Something about the way I was brought up to refuse offers of gifts, help or food. Don’t ask, I’m as stumped as you are! And let me tell you, refusing food when your tummy is growling like an angry Bengal tiger isn’t very convincing.
What changed was that I decided I’m not going to wait around any longer. My happiness, my responsibility. Did I have to travel to another country to figure this out? Not really. But you know what, having all those beautiful, endless views of the sea, the gorgeous food, and first-time experiences didn’t hurt! Not one bit.
How is your 2016 going so far? Any new life philosophies picked up along the journey of the last one? Also, any advice on how to shake a pesky cold & cough?