Next Qtr. Outlook

~ quiet audacity, creating what wasn’t there

Imagination isn’t an escape at all.

It could be, but consider it differently, see it differently - as a self-loving act of creation …

Maybe it’s advance reconnaissance for a place we haven’t built yet.

None of this means I’m wishing away limitations I can’t change or pretending age is irrelevant, or an excuse for repainting my every old mistake as useful experience.

Some things were losses.

Some doors were closed.

OK, some were slammed heavily …

Some consequences remain.

My point isn’t that anything is possible - but, rather, that the world/others/conventional thinking has no place in this; it’s that ‘nothing is impossible’ unless you say it is, and then it is.

It’s that something still is possible - whatever our age, condition, or curb-appeal might be, so deciding what our something should be remains a free and wide-open range of possibility … and IT IS for us to see.

And it remains ours to do.

At nearly 75, I’m not sorting life into smaller boxes.

I’m wondering how many boxes I can safely blow apart to make room for new ones I’ll need …

Imagination is tricky.

Is it daydreaming at night with the lights on,

or by day with our eyes tightly closed?

Maybe it’s simply refusing to believe what exists today is all there gets to be. That we’re done, nearly done, slowing down, moving to the go-slow lane or overnighting at every rest-stop on the road.

I’m restless that way. I want to sort this week’s schedule, manage the monthly money-juggle, finish unfinished things, chase what’s worth chasing, and decide what belongs on tomorrow’s shelf, someday’s shelf, or in the bin marked missed, lost, never tried, never said.

I’ve filled that bin.

But things and times, they are a-changin’

Or I am.

Are you?

After a year that sometimes felt like malaise, maze, and internal wreckage, I’m trying to put more behind me without pretending it didn’t happen; a canoe-paddling adventurer like a Fraser or Thompson, expecting everyone else in the canoe making notes for the map we’re making.

We can make maps to show where we’ve been, where others have tried and failed, or where we’ve failed, but we don’t have a map of where we’ve not been.

Not yet.

What do we need for going forward into uncharted territory?

Some might pack a lunch, camping gear - but for now, I’ve got a pen, a heart that pumps and most body parts are working well.

Maybe I’m an adventurer still searching for the cartographer.

The odd part is that I’m clearer about defining the destination than defining the route.

I’m eleven days from completing my 75th lap around the sun; I’m not thinking about winding down. My dad lived to 91, his father to 86, and my dad’s eldest brother reached 102, farming until 96. There’s no warranty in that, but I’m not ready to check prices on the best new rocking chair(s) …

It’s time for shedding fears, shifting gears, and dreaming larger.

Mogens Smed called his second big firm DIRTT: Doing It Right This Time.

I loved that tagline from the time I first heard it.

Because when we boldly chart a new course, there are no rules to obey, only the ones we create to guide our path, our destination and our outcome.

I don’t mean for the final chapters of life - but for the choice we make, all our lives - and now we get to choose what comes next.

And after that.

Sadly, too many people are not feeling great at this age/stage, seeing retirement as desirable (I never have seen it as a worthy goal for me), so I’ll continue with ‘retirement plan - buy lottery ticket every week’ - that’s my plan.

I’m not convinced there’s one right way.

There only needs to be the ONE each of us chooses.

Plenty of disasters were exquisitely planned. Plenty of extraordinary things were designed while being built. So are our lives - designing while building …

We lose opportunities, relationships, businesses, plans, confidence, and time.

Then we decide what to build next.

A painting. A building. A business. A poem. A friendship. A relationship. A different version of ourselves.

Before somebody begins creating anything, it doesn’t exist.

Then it does, immediately, exist - which doesn’t guarantee success, but it does confirm, without question, that a choice was made.

Because someone said, I want to make that ... make that happen!

And they made it happen; they defined and created the future they wanted, the art they wanted, the organizations or movements they wanted - and I believe that’s internal as well; we create the life we have, the choices we make, the fork of the road we take, and own it as ours - with passion and drive.

I’m one of those - now. More than ever, I think.

It doesn’t need to matter to anyone else, and most of the world isn’t watching, and doesn’t care.

And, for an alternate view, should you doubt me on this reality - just go visit any older-folks place of any kind, and it’s like a waiting room for death, waiting for the hearse. They are, too many of them, not concerned much about the vitality and future of their lives, let alone give a rat’s ass about yours. I choose NOT to be one of those …

My bus won’t be stopping there.

The longer view isn’t about preserving what remains, or re-living what’s passed or past us by, but creating more of what still might be.

P.S. - my late friend/mentor Frank Dabbs said, “Mark, when you write your book, where will it be found in the book store?”

I answered - not sure, but definitely not on the remainder table!

For those who might remember Frank, a career journalist and ghostwriter for many famous Canadians, was, at the time he was coaching me, also mentoring an unknown writer from Saskatoon. He’s not unknown anymore. Perhaps you’ve heard of Yann Martel and Life of Pi …