Still dreaming

But wide awake

As this weird summer starts to fade, I’m feeling better than I have in almost a year. I’m looking forward. Waaaay forward.

I’ve mentioned before being envious of people with long term hobbies or interests that have given them joy for years. I’ve absolutely no idea what it feels like to be able to return, again and again, and immerse oneself in a topic that holds your fascination. To be able to go from Beginner’s Mind, slowly, to Authority. To have that thing that others always associate with you.

Long ago I took the advice of whatever internet expert was holding court that week, and asked a circle of people who had known me for some years, what they thought of when they thought of me. Initially, the silence was deafening. Then a couple of replies drifted in, beyond trivial and honestly, humiliating. All the things I thought I stood for and embodied were absent. Unseen. And to add insult to injury there wasn’t even anything in their place. Just nothing.

With hindsight, maybe I picked the wrong people to ask and, in real life, unless we’re family by blood or choice, I’m pretty private. Also really good at deflecting questions and getting you to talk about you instead.

Anyway…back in 2026 I was still without a hobby; a special interest; a hyperfocus that lasts more than a week or two; a thing. I was, I realised, bored because I was boring. Sitting/lying on the sofa for a year will do that to you.

So began another round of “Find My Passion” spending hour after hour after day after week mentally trying on activities or topics or philosophies in the hope that one would fit like a glove and I’d never want to take it off.

Didn’t happen. I know…you’re shocked.

Then one day, freshly emerged from a ten months of the kind of ill health that starts to feel like an identity, I was driving into town and again throwing mud at my mental wall to see what might stick, when a voice (mine, as it goes) suddenly said, ”What if your passion is you?”

A wave of emotion hit, followed by a couple of tears, and I knew that finally I’d found it.

We’re not talking about narcissism here. What I mean is, what if my passion could be looking after myself? Working towards being who I want to be in 20 years. Doing the things I want to be doing for a long, long time. Moving myself from the bottom of my priorities list (where no one but me had decided I should reside) and directing a lot more of my energy at this “one wild and precious life”.

It’s terrifying how easy it is to not live that way - especially as we age and everything can feel a bit harder to achieve - but I can tell you I am so lit up with this. With the reality of having a dream I can pursue. I fully intend to be a Wild Old Woman who ultimately was untameable. That doesn’t mean living like a feral creature, it means living strong and capable. It means dignity and a fiercely open heart. It means my values embodied, not someone else’s. And, importantly, not caring if anyone else sees it or not.

I feel like I’ve already identified the things I want for myself at 83 (after all I’ve been corresponding with her). They’re lined up: building a strong, healthy body; creating and curating beautiful things; being part of Nature and Earth; being intellectually challenged (learning another language is in my near future); being ready for the total shitshow that the next couple of decades are warming up to be (see what I did there?)... I’m just not doing any of them because it’s all felt scattered.

Now there’s coherence. Now they all point to the same destination.

So I think I’ll just keep showing up here, sharing my experience of the magic and power of being an untameable 60-something with a dream. I know you know what I mean; I suspect you relate, and I hope you also have a dream. If you’d care to share it, I’d love to know.