I’m currently sitting in my friend’s kitchen in Florida. I ran away for a long weekend filled with sunshine, good food, and wonderful company.
All around is a world filled with retirees and people soaking in “the good life.” Sunshine, golf, beaches, and money.
I know that so many of my colleagues and family members yearn for this lifestyle in their later years. They are all working towards retirement. A time they can kick back, relax, and enjoy the fruits of all their labors. As close as an earthly paradise that they can afford in their “golden years”.
And yet, I can’t see myself slowly dying in a paradise where the monotony of my retirement years mirror my working years.
I want to write. I want these boisterous stories rumbling around in the vast landscape of my cluttered head to get out. I want my stories read, and heard. I want to show the world’s humanity in its own reflection with grace, and elegance.
I can’t just enjoy the good life. My soul and intellect tear it apart, reexamining it, reimagining it and delivering it back to the world in a way that can resonate with humanity.
Maybe this blog is my cathartic coming to terms with what I really am, a writer, which in essence, makes me an exile of humanity. I see and feel the world differently. I think I’ve convinced myself it is a curse. Maybe it’s a gift. A gift of perception that most of humanity lacks. A gift that God has given me to give back to the world something it needs to see.
That maybe life is more than a series of seasons in which we are always seeking a way to lessen our misery. We need to embrace the moment, relinquish our fears of rejection, embrace love, truth, and adventure.
There is so much more to be, and connect with, other than to sit on a sun drenched patio waiting for your turn to play golf, because you feel you’ve earned the right to live a luxurious life.
It’s not the life for me, even though I feel I should covet it more, but all I want to do is write beautifully, and show the world a slice of the interconnected soul of humanity. Our connection, love, and the beauty and grace that can exist in pain and horror.
That’s my retirement.