45 New Things

“A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.” -- Oliver Wendall Holmes, Jr.

In the months before my 45^th birthday, I had what one might call an old fashioned mid-life crisis. It manifested itself internally rather than in the more stereotypical ways we have all witnessed. As I did this internal evaluation, I knew that as much as I had enjoyed my life, I wanted to keep growing, expanding and experiencing rather than growing ever more comfortable and complacent in my “zone.” So, my birthday gift to myself was a challenge: Do 45 new things over the next year.

I hiked the Narrows in Zion. I got myself to Bryce Canyon after more than a decade of saying I wanted to go. I took my sons kayaking down a river; we hiked the Grand Canyon and experienced Carlsbad Caverns. I got my first pedicure, did a zip line adventure, read Thoreau, consciously tried new ways of dealing with patterns in my most significant relationships, got certified as a Life Coach, and the list goes on.

About a month ago, I downloaded a free trial of some “mind mapping” software to use in my coaching. I have always been intimidated by technology and it was completely unlike me to experiment with software with such reckless abandon. What had gotten into me? I was going to add this to the list of 45! Or wait--- was this new behavior a result of the list of 45? What I did know was that I had subtly changed.

A year has passed, and on my 46^th birthday, my sons and I boarded a plane for Puerto Vallarta as I have done for the past 23 years. On the plane, I looked at the “45” list in the back of my journal, somewhat in awe. I was beginning to see the ways in which the impact of these new experiences permeated into all areas of my life.  And then I noticed that the list stopped at 43; I didn’t actually meet my goal.

The weather in Mexico was unusual while we were there, and one morning I found myself completely alone on the beach, sitting under a palapa, while it poured down rain. It was beautiful, and I made a mental note to remember how peaceful I felt in that moment. When my sons arrived, they of course went straight to the water. The air was cool, but I pulled off my cover-up, ran through the rain, and submerged in the Pacific in spite of the storm. When I came up for air, I looked toward the mountains emerging through the dark clouds in the distance. What an incredible morning it had been.

Then it hit me; I had never experienced the beauty of a sitting on the beach alone during a storm. Nor had I ever been swimming in the ocean while it poured down rain. And with that realization, my list of “45” was complete.

Many Blessings,

Tomorrow is promised to no one.

      “Remember, tomorrow is promised to no one.”

                             -Walter Payton

My life, of course, creates the fodder for what I write. I have begun to realize that experience, be it good or bad, holds within it the opportunity to seek grace and uncover wisdom.

Such was the source of the Timeless Waters blog for March of this year, and alerted by the message that my post contained, an old friend contacted me. Speaking to me in a language I could understand, he referenced an experience I wrote about in my book, Timeless Waters, and opened a dialog about where I was in my life. Of all that conversation contained, there was one thing he said that has stuck with me the most; “What do you want the next half of your life to be about?” He is indeed a wise man.

I took a few weeks and let that simmer. My young to middle adulthood had been about working hard; building my career, a family, a home and a life. Wrapped up in those things are my values of service to humanity, productivity, success, accomplishment, stability, and so forth. All those endeavors were worthwhile and are the foundation of where I am today. I have no regrets, but a new season of life is upon me, and with that comes the question: what do I want that to look like?

Joy was the word that came to mind; and a life fully lived. Living life fully would mean living a little differently; creating new patterns in my existence to balance out the paths of experience so well traveled the first forty five years. Joy, spontaneity, time for recreation, and tending to my list of dreams—this was what I wanted and was where I would start.

After a solo-trip to Utah to explore Bryce Canyon and Zion National Park-- an experience that fit my newly established criteria-- I told my sons I wanted them to hike the Narrows with me for my 50^th birthday.  What could be more exhilarating than a ten mile hike through the Virgin River in the heart of Zion, with 1500 feet canyon walls towering on both sides? My youngest, now 12, asked “why are we going to wait until your 50?”  He had a very good point. Two months after that conversation, I found myself hiking the Narrows with my boys, as well as Bryce and the Grand Canyon. It was a literally a dream come true. I am still not sure how I made that a reality. Come to think of it, I’m not sure exactly how this entire summer has become a reality. It is as if I am living my life from a different paradigm, and I hope it is where I have taken residence rather than a short visit.

Perhaps the quote at the top of the page should be Walt Disney’s “if you can dream it you can do it,” rather than “tomorrow is promised to no one.” Or maybe, just maybe, the two together are the formula for a joyful life indeed.

Blessings,

Sheryl