When I was younger, it was easier to set goals and make plans. When I was a kid, I once sold "grow your own" Christmas trees door-to-door just so I could have money to buy my family Christmas presents. I set a goal, and I achieved it. I started and finished more crafts and DIY projects while balancing 4.0 GPA's and my mother's list of chores.
Those doors used to hold excitement, some rite of passage, some sense of accomplishment that I'd even had the courage to knock. And it's not like I've stopped being happy, but I've stopped pushing. I have goals, but how much do I really work to pursue them? Am I out everyday trying to accomplish it the fervor I did when I was a kid?
And then question hit me: How much am I actually participating in my own life?
I have goals, but it seems I am on autopilot. I don't have the gumption and courage to knock on those metaphorical doors anymore. I feel more like a turtle that has Eeyore's attitude coming across the finish line. "Well, I'm here, I suppose. Glad someone noticed."
I didn't used to be that way. I got kicked down a lot. I got kicked when I was down a lot. And I honestly cannot remember how I got through it. I try to think what I would have been told.... what advice my elders would have given me. I can't remember.
But, there is one thing I remember... the celebration.
So, I'm going to start participating in my life. So I can celebrate again. When I see any of the people in my life achieve something, be it friends or family or the kids (especially the kids) I make a point to celebrate... to jump up and down and scream and be happy for them in that moment.
Perhaps, if we start to pay attention to our own lives, if we participate in them... maybe then we will feel the excitement and freedom of the celebration again.
