“One who fears failure limits his activities. Failure is only the opportunity to more intelligently begin again.” ~Henry Ford
I’m 40 years old, and I’m starting over again. This is not the first time I’ve done something similar to this, but it is different than all the rest, because I’m different now. There’s something to be said for experience being a sure teacher, and yet it seems like my whole life all I’ve been doing is repeating mistakes. That won’t happen again, because of where I’ve been, and because of where I am now. This is my declaration, at 40 years old, with a wealth of fiery carnage in my path. I’m tired of being engulfed in flames.
It’s time for something new.
All this year I’ve been doing new things. I’ve been branching out, stretching past my comfort zone, waiting for exactly this moment — to start again. It’s always been fascinating to me watching the seasons change. They always change differently, at different times, and in different ways. While the actuality of them hardly changes (summer is hot, winter cold) the degrees and architecture of them shifts subtly from year to year, and sometimes even within themselves. I feel like I’ve become that now, worn and aged by time, but also a little unpredictable as I become this best version of myself. Well, as I become at least this better version of myself.
I just finished a novel manuscript last month that explores a whole new world I don’t think I could have envisioned before. The wealth of experiences, the starts and stops of my life, have made it possible. We are in our new house now, and I finally have the study I’ve always wanted. It is calming to me in a way I didn’t realize it would be, even when I dreamed it up as a boy in Southwest Philadelphia. But most importantly, I’ve grown closer to my wife, our shared disappointments and commitment to improving us just so much more focused.
It has all opened my eyes.
I’ll be 41 next week, and before I even approach the significance of what’s to come, I want to embrace being 40 in a sort of last hurrah, because this year has taught me to be patient, to be focused, to be more authentically myself than I’ve ever been before. I don’t make New Year’s Resolutions because my birthday is its own resolution, a chance to clarify who I am and where I’m going. This year I have even more reason to be grateful as opportunities have risen that I wouldn’t have dreamt of even a few years ago. The me I was then wouldn’t have even been ready for them.
Yet here I am, restless at night, but for good reasons, eyes wide open for joy, for blessings that I wouldn’t have imagined could come my way, not after all this time, after all this self-inflicted pain. I’m here, ready to start all over again, because life is short but not so short we can’t have several chapters. I’m ready to read the next one.