Today my son is playing his guitar in Athens, Georgia. Which is, you most likely know, a musical hotbed. REM. The B-52s. Probably the most well known bands but there are many that hail from Athens. My son’s electric guitar though is here in my home. Not with him because he is a devoted player of classical guitar and I couldn’t be prouder. He flew yesterday from Boston to Atlanta and if he didn’t have business to attend to and little time to visit, I’d have gone down to hear him play.
I mention him because lately I’ve considered dreams and passions and what we’re put on the earth to accomplish. My above mentioned and only son introduced me to Chef’s Table, a program on Netflix. While my daughter was visiting this summer, she and I watched an episode which featured Christina Tosi and her bakery, Milk Bar. The program told her story, how she moved to NYC and worked extremely hard to become what she is today. And for whatever reason, my daughter and I became engrossed in the story. Perhaps because Christina is a cute, determined blond woman who established herself in a tough environment and reminds me of my daughter in that regard… Perhaps she is relatable in a way many success stories are not for me. Someone I can identify with and someone who shares some of my interests. I do love to bake.
My son went to NYC over his fall break and spent a weekend with his sister. They visited Milk Bar and I’m jealous. I plan to the next time I’m in NYC. I also plan to buy Tosi’s recently released book, All About Cake, and I’ll most likely re-watch the Chef’s Table episode a few times. I have also added her to my list of people I’d invite to lunch, which yes, includes author Barbara Kingsolver. I just read a recent interview with her this morning: By the Book.
I am now in a place where I feel I can adequately consider what my dreams actually are. And that’s kind of harrowing. Because it would be easy to carry on. Keep on doing what I’m already doing. But I feel a need to evaluate. And decide upon personal commitments.
I have some ideas. Some thoughts buried in the recesses of my mind. What I’m good at and wish I was good at and could be good at if I’d practice. What I want. What I don’t want. The word “goals” is not my favorite so I will probably write out a list of hopes and planned on accomplishments and not label it anything in particular.
October is, quite possibly, the hardest month. As far as reflection goes. Five years. Four years. One year. Happenings which make it difficult to do much more than get through. I know I tell myself to stop. To let go. To not ponder the past and the outcomes. But look forward.
People ask questions and don’t quite understand. In a way I’m moving backyards. To a place I missed years ago. But I’ve come to realize that is a good thing. A starting point I skipped but now have time to ponder. A timeline which will reveal. If I’m careful and deliberate. If I don’t let busyness persuade me.
Seeking will reveal where I fit…how it all fits. My uniqueness and that of others. It’s taken longer than I anticipated. Longer than perhaps was necessary. But I’m arriving. Sailing into shore. About to get off the ship, uncertain exactly what I’ll find on land. A familiar place yet so much undiscovered.