Strange Combo

Fifty-seven, I am finding, is delightful age to be.  Gives me three years to anticipate 60 and the happy possibilities that await me as I approach a decade of opportunities I would never have imagined I'd be imagining.

It's also an age where I am experiencing a strange and satisfying collision of change and consistency. 

My personality defaults to consistency.  As a perfectionist Type A, everything in me craves order and routine.  It's how I get my best work done.  It's the pathway to being most centered in my spirit, most satisfied, most convinced that all is right with the world.  Small rituals of every day, every season, the repetition of it, marks my life, brings me back to true north, marks my journey.

Life, however, isn't consistent.  Not at all.  It's random, surprising, doesn't mind interrupting, loves knocking ducks into disorganized, untamed messes.  Change is always happening, it seems, whether I like it or not.

Used to be, I did not like it, not one little bit.  And I won't pretend I LOVE it these days, because I'm not there yet.

But lately I've noticed that change doesn't phase me like it used to.  When change comes unexpectedly I'm more ready to embrace it, look for the new opportunities, celebrate the chance to clear out old 'stuff'.  And, even though I rarely go seeking it just for its own sake, I find that sometimes, these days, I am more and more the one making the suggestion for how something could be different, particularly when it serves the bigger purposes of what I believe my life is about. 

I am finding a way, these days of my 57th year, to set up the rhythms that allow me to change.  That I don't have to abandon my consistency in order to embrace change, but rather let the regular and repeated beloved practices embolden me for new things ahead.

No growth without change.  And I want to grow so....


And random surprises and interruptions make for better stories anyways.