Good morning friends.
This is my (slightly idealised) view, 48 days from turning 48. I’ve taken some creative license and brought us into autumn, because let’s face it, autumn is the most magical of the seasons.
48 days from now I will turn 48. I like the symmetry of that.
Recently, I’ve been pondering how I got here, who I am and what’s shaped me. Ive been wondering what markers along the way have been most significant, and perhaps more importantly, whether there are worthwhile and transmittable ideas, processes or unshackling posts that I could point out to others. (Does that sound ridiculously arrogant? I hope not.)
48 isn’t 50, it’s not a Hallmark sponsored milestone, but it is what’s cresting in front of me.
It’s a long time, isn’t it? 48 years.
Not compared to the planets or the stars, or even the trees in the nearby hills, but for a person, it’s a good stretch of days and nights, of summers, autumns, winters and springs. It’s a lot of Christmases and birthdays. It’s a hell of a lot of Monday mornings!
Will I write 48 daily posts? I’m not sure, I kind of doubt it, though I do have the time at the moment.
What I’m hoping is that by making a concerted effort to both reflect, and to scout what’s ahead, I might stumble across some things that help me join the dots.
I’ve got this sneaking suspicion that the truest, best changes in our lives, the really important work of the soul (ugh, sorry about that!), happens not on the mountain tops, but germinates slowly, incrementally, often without us having much awareness of what’s going on, in the every day, in the mundane.
There’s no mapped out plan for the next 48 days, there are no draft posts waiting in the wings, but I do want to tell you some stories.
No matter how SnapChatty the world becomes, I think we still need stories. Stories and questions.
Let’s find out.
This is me, 49 days from 48.