Forever incomplete

Alanis Morissette has a song called Incomplete. When I first wrote about it I called it one of the most beautiful things I had come across, and I meant it.

The song is about someone who has spent years trying to get somewhere. Calmer, wiser, finished. Then she realizes that all that time she was so busy trying to arrive that she missed the joy of being on the way. The not quite there yet. The part where you are still learning, still stretching, still becoming a little more than you were this morning.

It is a sad thing to miss.

Half a life

It takes most of us half our lives to see it. We are so fixed on the next goal, the next deadline, the next thing to tick off, that we never stop and breathe in what it is like to be exactly where we are.

Careers, family and relationships can all be stressful. Learning your way through them is still a privilege. Every morning we get to wake up and take a breath. With that on offer, why are we in such a hurry to reach the end?

If you are over 50, you are past the halfway mark, which is a fine time to notice. The kids are grown or nearly. The career has gone wherever it was going to go. It can feel as though the finishing part has arrived and you are supposed to be done.

You are not done. Nobody is.

Lucky to be unfinished

I wrote at the time that I could count on being forever incomplete, and that I felt lucky to be just that. I liked the idea of meeting every new day with the same welcome: a new lesson, a new idea, a new skill, a new book, a new friend.

The way I put it then was to take a long, deep breath, keep your eyes wide open and enjoy the ride.

As plans go, it is a good one. Start with the breath. You can do that one today.

From the archive. First written for my journal years ago, and rewritten for life after 50.