We are many stories ~ while some are not so pretty, there are many for which I am grateful. I sometimes endure severe depression combined with thoughts of weariness so severe I find I no longer have the energy to live. (My friends with military training call it life termination and this makes me laugh at my serious self.)
I often ask myself what do I want to carry out during this final phase three of my life?
Just what are my dreams in this phase? I reflect and squirm. Then I think, what if I am already living my dreams? What if I can be at peace with my world and all that it encompasses? Can I do this?
I can and do, most of the time.
My dream is to know and have a belief in a higher power (for my Papa, it was nature ~ for me, it is the Great Spirit Energy of First Nations).
I want to enjoy and harbor special relationships with my stunning now-grown children.
Never. Never. Never, do I wish to be a burden to either of them. When it is time for me to cross over, I want to just do it. Alone.
Additionally, I want to know the morning light on my face upon waking in my treehouse-type cottage and I want to dance until I fall spent and weeping for joy. I want to give a soft landing to rescue animals who are perhaps a bit estranged from their earlier (unknown to me) journeys.
I wish to live in a lake cottage filled with meaningful yet “non-matching” furniture; write daily, profound or otherwise; be bold enough to sketch, then paint; photograph nature; and, compose music when I wish ~ 4 am is good; meditate and pray; and, take educational courses in various areas of fine arts every day.
My dream is to have a dedicated falling-down music cottage/art gallery (it is parts of three cottages stuck together in the 1940s from a military compound across the lake), where I can be quite loud; design anything with fabric; or linger in the other cottage downstairs in my art studio.
Finally, I want to enjoy my dear friends who challenge, lift and encourage each other; to know the sheer quiet joy of kindness ~ true kindness toward others and toward myself, and to understand that mean-spirited humans need love more than anyone else and that I may not have enough love to love them. Yet.
Hurt people, hurt people.
In my world, I salute you. I thank you.
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