Life… Journey or Destination

In the last month I went to two funerals. They could not have been any more different. The first was my mother-in -law. She was coming up on her 95th birthday but her health was failing. She had a long and varied life but she had lost her husband as well as two children and two grandchildren. It was time. She was tired.

The other was a young man of 34. He was a friend of my son. They met in grade ten when my son went to High School. He switched from French Immersion to English and soon developed a blended group of friends of French and English. That group continued through the University years and to today. While each person went their own way in time, the bond was kept. As they gathered to say good-bye to their friend it was evident that Austen had lived more in his short 34 years than some do in nearly a century. While his objective was never to achieve fame and fortune, he instead gathered experiences and friendships. That too was evident in the large and diverse gathering at his funeral.

While my own life was influenced greatly by the man I married, I know the choices we made are what allow me the freedom I enjoy today. On the other hand there are some dreams I had as a young girl that I never acted upon. School, marriage, children, career. All of these things take time. And they took precedence over dreams. That is not to say I didn’t enjoy life. Only that some of the big dreams didn’t fit into my life, or lifestyle. So often the decisions we make in this world are more for other people than for ourselves. My home was chosen by my husband. Throughout the last 36 years I have made it my own although I never wanted it. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about some renovation I want to make. Is it the ADHD or is it my deep desire for an early 1900’s craftsman style home. A style I have loved my whole life.

Another deep desire when I was young was to live in Scotland for a year. That desire has never gone away and I often wonder what holds me back. One thing is grandchildren. I am deeply involved with some of those wee ones and I don’t want to miss a thing. My time with them is fleeting. You blink and they grow up. I know there is a time in the not so distant future that they will be too busy for this old lady. Their own lives will expand and become full. I want to be a part of this time when their memories are made. The things they will look back on as they remember me. Until then I think a month in Scotland is a good compromise.

We spend half of our lives accumulating things and the second half of our lives getting rid of stuff. We come to realize that no one wants our crap. The possessions we worked so hard to get. As I look around my home I can’t help but feel overwhelmed by my “stuff”. Yet it is so hard to get rid of said stuff. Why is that? I think in many ways I get comfort from these things and yet if I didn’t have them life would be so much simpler. My life has become a paradox of sorts where what I want and what I achieve are in fact often contradictory. In time then I get caught up in the circular style of living. Busy, doing, yet achieving nothing really.

In the end I think to myself do I wish the rest of my life to be like my mother-in-law or that of Austen. In many ways I am like that old lady. Alone and content while holding on to the safety of stuff. Like a security blanket. Yet in my heart I long for freedom. To go and do and live and see. To explore and seek out new things. New people. But the reality is that when I go out into the world I become exhausted by the sheer energy of the people I meet. Which at the time is okay and I love it but I need time to hide away from the world. To rest and restore my energy. To cry and sleep and go deep inside myself. And so I return home to that peace,

I have learned that when we dig a deep comfort zone, we often can never get out. So when do we stop digging. How do we know when we have gone too deep. Or do we ever even realize it. Or is it just me. I have friend with a large family. They built a thriving business but travelled extensively and her life is so full. Yet whenever I spent time with her, she was always planning her next adventure. Rather than enjoying time with me. Her friend group is quite small and when we meet for lunch I hear all about her grievances about these people. Yet every waking moment is filled with people going here there and everywhere. We are so different yet for both of us there is some discontent. As if we both know something is missing. Yet we have different methods to figuring out what that is.

I don’t know if I will ever figure out my life. For 64 years I have just sort of followed along. Even today I am packing up my motorbike for a week long trip. My long time friend was feeling antsy one evening and called to suggest we get the bikes out. She needed to go somewhere. So here I am following along,. Yet, her need to hit the highway has me doing what I love most in life. Living simply. Drive until you need gas or a bathroom. Stop when you’re hungry or need to rest. Sleep in a tent until you need a shower. Cook over a mini camp stove. As usual I vow to take pictures. And yet history has shown I don’t do that. I take in the surroundings and feel the peace that comes with having nowhere to go and no where to be. I guess this is how it is supposed to be. I know when I get back I will feel comfort in my own bed. I will get into my hot tub and feel blessed to have one. I will feel the peace of my home as I recoup. Mostly I will be grateful that I can live this life my way. Even if I’m not sure what my way is.