Live a Little

Nothing like the death of a friend to make you think more about life. This past weekend, I unplugged. I just wanted to clear my head and think a little. I jumped off on Friday afternoon. By lunchtime on Saturday, the buzzing in my ears had died down and I could finally hear myself. I kept trying to think of things to do. I felt like I needed to be busy doing something. Anything.

I took the kids to a craft store and bought some dragons and scenery for my son to make a movie, a white board and markers for my daughter to write anything but poetry, and fresh paper and pencils for myself. I didn't know what I wanted to write or draw. I figured I'd let inspiration take over.

Eventually, I wrote some words down. I let my hand flow. I kept writing until I asked myself a question that I was surprised by. I wanted to put a title to a calling. Because titles make everything official, right? I guess. Titles are a succinct description to what it is that someone does. But titles also define limitations and limit the person to whom the title is attached.

In some ways, that definition is good. It gives us some clarity, maybe helps us write down some goals, and, at the very least, gives us an answer to the "What do you do" question. I was having this talk with a friend the other day. Then I blogged incoherently about the hippy and jet setter in me fighting. She asked me, well, what DO you want to do? I gave her an answer that surprised me.

No, I'm not going to tell you. Because once I write it down, I might have to walk away from my stable life, taking my family on a wild ride with me, and that just wouldn't be fair. But it would be cool if it worked. Still... if it didn't...

Today on Skimbaco Lifestyle, my friend Katja asks us to share our thoughts on not letting others define our limits. What about us, though, defines our own limitations? Somewhere, someone told me I couldn't do something and I believed it. That's what a therapist or Tony Robbins would say to me. They're right, but I'm not going to sit here and try to remember who all told me what I could or couldn't do. What I need to do is to stop telling myself that same old line. Wanting to do something but being afraid it won't work. That's what keeps me in defining mode. If I just keep playing where it's safe, defining those boundaries, never crossing over the line, I'll be okay. I might even be happy.

But I'll die with regrets. Just like my Nana did. And that was the whole point when I first started blogging five years ago: Don't die regretting a life that you never lived.

There's nothing like death to remind you of your words: LIVE.

Do you let others define your life? Do you do it to yourself?