Midlife and Sunday

So here it is Sunday and I am ready for the service time, hopeful this week I pay attention. I am not sure if it is midlife or just a brain filled with chaos that makes me wander even in church. Midlife is a kind of crazy place.

So here is 52, I look differently than before, I feel most different and I am aware that much of what I have done does not excite me. I look back on a few distinct moments with pride and use huge amounts of good ole fashion denial to forget many. I laugh at some, I smile at some and I even fondly recall a few of the most crazy moments. But in total I find myself wondering. I am pulled by this powerful voice, the one that speaks to me in my sleep and my waking but no one else hears. The voice that warns me of danger and reprimands me for poor behavior. It is, of course my voice, and she can be a real challenge.

I wish that I could spread a bit of cheer here, a bit of hope that the world is as it should be and I am where I am supposed to be...but that is not what it feels like. I have been, if nothing else true to this blog and it has been my diary of reality. My father once said that if I lived my life as an open book that my actions would not haunt me. I guess that if I knew that all I did would be seen and examined by those I care about and those I may not even know I would be kinder, softer and at times harsher. But I would be free of guilt. Something to ponder.