Having a birthday six months away from the start of each year means that I somewhat compulsively look at any New Year's resolutions I made for that year and consider whether I'm doing what I resolved. My resolutions of six months ago were not that specific, as seen here and here.
In terms of the first one of those, have I made some art, dreamed dangerously a time or more, and made some epic mistakes? I'd like to think so. I know I've made some epic mistakes, but who hasn't. I've definitely opened my mouth more than once and inserted my foot, at times both of them. I should perhaps try to live the sentiment I found on a friend's blog a while back: Don't make the same mistake twice or you won't have time to make them all. When it comes right down to it, a perfect life would get boring pretty quickly. I've definitely dreamed some dreams, some bigger than others and some which might be looked at askance by some people. Some might even come true. Finally, I've definitely made some art. Anyone who knows me knows that I do that as often as I can.
In terms of the second one, have I lived the life I imagined? I have, at least in some respects, though the life I imagined has been a different one at different points in that life. As I sat in the husband's arms in an underground bar in Coober Pedy, South Australia, in May, listening to oldies and sipping some local brews, it occurred to me that the life I'm living is probably better than any I have imagined along the way. It was one of those transcendent moments where time almost seemed to stand still and all was right with my world.
My brother turned 60 a month ago and has pointed out that my turn is coming in two years. He lives in Maine, so he marked his 60th by climbing Mt. Katahdin at the northern end of the Appalachian Trail. I suppose I shall have to give thought to how I might mark mine. As for my 58th tomorrow, I have no real plans. There will be birthday push-ups at SEAL Team PT, more than some people might like. I do not expect much hoopla at home given that younger son is coming down on the weekend meaning hoopla may arise then. Older son has suggested that I might want to make a honeyed apple pie in place of a birthday cake given that he is doing a nutrition challenge in which he cannot eat any processed sugar. I think what he meant to say is that if I tell him, his brother, or the husband how to make one, then one of them will make it. I can draw the line at baking my own birthday treat, can't I?