I've been noticing two things develop hand in hand as I age: patience and regrets.
It's not that I regret what I've done ... just that, as I have grown more fully capable of realizing the goals that I once set for myself, as I have learned to dedicate myself to them and work for them in long stretches instead of short bursts, I have also learned -- had to learn -- how to pick and choose my ambitions.
I'm getting more done of consequence, I suppose, but I am taking more and more of my time to do it, settling into long, comfortable rhythms rather than a sense of perpetual urgency.
So it's regret for the dreams that I have not yet chased, I suppose. Premature regret, in some ways, since there's nothing stopping me -- but I feel a greater pull toward the things I am already devoting myself to, so I'm growing more conscious of the tradeoffs that would be involved.
You'd think patience -- the ability to more effectively track down your dreams -- would be a good thing. It's strange and a bit sad that this clarity comes at a price.
Posted via LiveJournal.app.