What you might have been
You know that saying about how it’s never to late to be what you might have been? I fucking hate that line. It implies that who you are right now is– apparently– not living up to your “potential.” Whatever that means.
“What you might have been” implies that where you are right now isn’t THERE there, but someday you’ll Arrive, with a capital A, like a debutante sweeping down a dramatic staircase. Or maybe launched like a missile. But till then, your entire life is just leaning on the wall out back behind the kitchen, smoking cigarettes or sipping coffee or whatever, waiting for you to get your shit together.
Like everything up till that point– everything before that magical day when you suddenly become what you might have been (presumably in a poof of colored smoke and sparkly fairy dust) has been an elaborate dress rehearsal, but never the real deal.
Almost real. Almost like real life.
There’s no almost, folks. This is it. As I told Miss G when lecturing her about her abysmal grades this spring, “You can’t blow off high school because you think only college is real. It’s all real. Real life doesn’t start after you graduate high school or finish college. You’re living it right now.”
I finally signed up for a family rec center pass, which includes unlimited yoga classes. Because the time slots tend to fall when normal folk have work and stuff, the classes are a bunch of cute little old ladies, a couple cute little old men, and me. Sometimes there’s another person under 65 besides me– sometimes as many as two other people.
But damned if these deceptively soft-looking, potato-shaped ladies aren’t slamming out yoga in circles around me, without a hint of breathing hard or struggling to hold their balance. More often than not, when the teacher describes the easy way to do a pose, half the class drops into the advanced version instead, just for kicks. And without needing instruction.
Every day I attend is a reminder that appearances are deceptive. That age is a state of mind much more than it is a limitation of the body. That almost-40 is not even close to too late for me to build a foundation of physical health, so I, too, can someday be a cute, potato-shaped little old lady doing yoga in circles around those young upstart whippersnappers.
I will not wake up at 40 or 50 or 80 and think “Hey, I did it! I’m finally what I might have been!” But I can wake up every morning and pour energy into manifesting the life I want that day. Every day. And you can too.
It’s never too late to be what you might have been? How about being yourself every day right now? How about not putting off those things you always wanted to do, and doing them today instead? And how about letting today’s yourself be enough?