You are never too old to be what you might have been.
— George Eliot [Zen Calendar, ©2004 Workman Press]
Somehow, I find this statement both reassuring and frightening. I know it's true, like I have faith that the sky is still blue, and that I exist (existence precedes essence, etc). I mean, it's a statement that floated off the morning's calendar page, stood up in front of me, and said, "What are you gonna do about it, buddy boy?"
What might I have been? What am I now? In what ways am I missing my potential?
What am I going to do?
Today, I'm taking my Moleskine Journal and Notebook (two different Moleskine products, IOW) to the library. I'm copying addresses from old phonebooks - the house my parents lived in when I was born, and at least two others they lived in up to the time of their divorce. Find where the hospital I was born in used to be. Find out where Mommom & Poppop lived before they moved to the house I'd always known.
Still looking backward to look forward. Feeling nostalgic. Taking my camera and recording it all.
The journal is to record addresses and image numbers. The notebook is to write thoughts and reflections. Who knows which will come first?
Today is what I have. Today, I will take these steps, and breathe the air, and reflect on my secret sacred heart.