In my work as a Passion Mentor, I often hear this excuse as a reason for not living a passionate life.
I get it.
At the age of 44, I felt like I was too old to enjoy the sport I once was so passionate about as a teen. The day before my 44th birthday, I attempted to barefoot water ski with my oldest son driving the boat.
I’ve entered a new season on the parenting journey: I’m now a mom of three young adults. This phase has required a shift in my parenting experience, one that requires a new skill set. It requires letting go and stepping back versus the heavy guidance of earlier years.
And it’s hard.
I keep wishing I could step back in time, to hold them once again as toddlers and revel in the innocence.
When I look around, I see people just going through the motions throughout their day. The routine of stress and mediocrity is etched on the faces of people shopping at the local food store. There’s the usual pattern: the dread of Monday, the perk of aliveness on Wednesday, the celebration of Friday.
Not the words I wanted to hear, but I shouldn’t have been too surprised. My daughter, Ren, had a love/hate relationship with formalized education since she was in elementary school. I can remember some days having to shove her out the car door to make her go to school.