From a reader:
It’s funny – you got me thinking – and I remembered that I used to have an imagination and used it. I was a very fanciful child and frequently lived in my own little world. I always thought I would do something creative and wonderful with my life, and here I am at 66 and I didn’t. Don’t know what happened. Life, I suppose.
I wrote a post here some time ago that dealt with learning to dream again, and what I want to say loud and clear is that until the nails are pounded in your box, or you're put into the fire, or you're dumped somewhere where nobody will ever find the body, you Are Not Finished. You Are Not Done.
Take each moment. Make it yours. Find what thrills you. Do not turn your back on the ideas that fall into your head.
But I believe that each of us also have another gift to make our world more miraculous than it already is. To leave behind a little color and surprise. It could be a song or a painting or a poem. It could be the stories you tell your grandchild at night.
The thing is, it could be. Don't give up. I don't care if you're 26 or 66 or 106. You owe your creativity to yourself. You owe your creativity to our culture (even if "our culture" consists of one friend), and if you're a believer, you owe your creativity to the one who created you.
You can blanket this world with one more layer of awe, by taking your own life and embedding it. Because each one of us has something worthy to leave behind.
If you're already a writer, what else would you like to create? A painting? A garden? If you're a parent, is there something else you've always wanted to try? A short film? A cookbook?
So, to my beloved reader who shared your heart with me: It could be.