I'm 62. My child is 18 and will head off to college this fall. I did the heavy lifting of mothering for 18 years, and while I will always be part of my child's life, they will launch into their own. I have more time, energy, and mental capacity free to use in different ways. Working as a therapist is one project, and I love doing the work. I missed it so much before returning in 2021.
Another project of mine has been to renovate my life in such a way that I become physically healthier and more fit. Losing weight and regular intense exercise has improved my life so much, particularly my mental health. And goodness knows with the state of U.S. politics, I need to take care of this.
Lately, though, I've noticed I am prioritizing creating daily. It brings such joy and equanimity. It feels as important as eating and sleeping. It puts me in a flow state that enables me to be a decent human being and do good things in the world. But most of all, as I'm getting older, I'm acutely aware that my remaining time is finite and precious. I am going to die. Every day I wake up and put that awareness front and center in my attention, because I want to spend some time every day doing this activity that makes my life rich. When I'm on my deathbed, I want to have no regrets. I want the satisfaction of knowing that I gave myself to life and really engaged.
So every day since January I've been collaging (posted here). And lately I've been making small abstract paintings with watercolor, and converting other painted paper into notecards. It makes me grateful to be alive. And I am grateful to myself that I've made this practice a daily priority.
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