Why I Finally Decided to Start this Creative Journey at 47

Don’t we all only live once? I wake up every morning wondering about what I would be doing in the ‘afterlife’. Must I plan it out now that I have just turned forty-seven years old? Oh gee. Hmm. Let’s be serious about this.

It’s stupid of me to brag that I am a polymath. You know, someone who’s passionate about a lot of things but can’t really tell the difference between a career jackpot and an endeavour that just deserves to be kept behind the curtains? One creative interest caresses a heart, another is a drum beat of fun, and there’s another one that can be defined as just – ahem – “casual hookups”.

One minute I’m plunged back into making music, then the next minute I’m obsessed with crafting a story for a new book. Not to mention the “in between” dedications; street photography, cinematic videos, updating a blog site, poetry, screenwriting – you get the picture of how scattered and doomed my life has always been.

But here are the ‘practical’ and ‘essential’ industries that have paid my bills since moving to Canada in 2008: restaurant, hospitality, retail, and facilities services. Then almost two decades later I end up with a lump in my left shoulder which has to endure itself no matter what – all because a doctor visit terrifies me.

I’m lying in bed as of this writing; reviewing my life as if I’m at the Pearly Gate, arguing with God over Him entrusting me with all these sparks that have been wallowing me around in wild delusions, understanding what matters most, organizing my priorities, and being kind to my heart.

Having a poignant realization of “my soul purpose” forces me to confront my mortality. What would my legacy be? Who am I to God? How would I like to be remembered? What gives me emotional fulfillment? How would I die happy?

I don’t even know what my ideal life looks like. I know I have been hiding. I put something out there and then I stop caring. I dim out. It’s like I’m asking the universe to keep it alive in obscurity instead.

But wait a minute now.

I am still alive. Is it too late yet? I’m not sure. All I know is I’m going to keep on writing and creating even if no one cares. I must never give up now – I mean after all these years? Come on. I must only surrender to the “creative magic” that God may have given me at any given moment.

It doesn’t matter where I work or what I do for a living – whether or not I’m making a cent off my writing. None of it matters anymore. I have written wonderful pieces that have not been read before – and I am ready to unleash them now.

Before my life types down “The End” without kissing me goodbye and asking me how.