Having a few dreams dangling in the future is fun and makes life interesting. Always has until now. It is the weirdest thing ever.......for the first time in my life, I don't really have any. There's no burning in the bosom to accomplish anything specific, no fire in my belly to fight for some cause, no curiosity to explore or go, no unbirthed dreams that need some wheels put to them. Feels a bit empty, sort of a bleak or maybe blank horizon. Strange and unfamiliar.
However, there is contentment in the common everyday things. It's all very ordinary, a bit predictable, satisfying in a way and puttering. Not doddering; puttering - like puttzing. Dabbling. Lots of freedom to do or not to do. It doesn't feel like a waste of time or anything like that. Nor does it feel like I'm living by default instead of on purpose. But, nothing feels grand, intense, earthshaking or adventuresome; it's hard to see any one thing in my day mattering tremendously in the grand scheme of things.
Maybe I'm living in normal now? On a street named ordinary. With a common house number. It seems good. Maybe there is here. Maybe here is now. I do believe that the best is yet to come. That definitely gives me a little tingle of anticipation.
Ok, whew, there's still a bit of juice left. :)
Maybe it's not a blank horizon, but a blank canvas......to paint on? But what to paint?