As a child, I was always reaching for the next thing.
I learned to roll over, then crawl, then pull myself up, stand, walk, and eventually run.
Nobody had to tell me to strive.
Growth was instinctive.
I was always interested in what came next.
That continued throughout my life. I came to Los Angeles to pursue Hollywood, then stepped away from that career to raise my three children. For years, life gave me a reason to keep moving.
Then my children grew up.
The apartment became quieter, and I began thinking about what happens when the things that once gave your life momentum and resilience aren’t there anymore.
Maybe that’s when we’re vulnerable to the seduction of comfort.
We start looking backward.
I used to be stronger. Faster. More agile. I used to have more energy. My children used to be home.
But the past will always win that comparison.
So I’ve started asking a different question:
How do I fill the void left?
I may not be able to do everything I once did. That’s okay.
I can walk, write, create, learn and play music. I can explore.
I can still reach.
At sixty, maybe the goal isn’t to become who I was at twenty.
Maybe it’s to realize who I was and discover something worth becoming now.
Because as long as I’m still reaching for something beyond me, an experience once removed…
I’m not finished growing.
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Chu The Cud 