Bridging Gaps

Yeah....

I'm at THAT age.

The middle part.

Yes, I'm only 37, and to most, that seems young for much-maligned "middle age", but do the math. Double 37 and you have 74. I'll be lucky to see 74 because genetically speaking, The Cancer is pretty much my mode of death in my 60's. Hell, I might even be a "late bloomer" in the "middle aged" phase of life.

I'm awakening. Slowly.

And, when I peer through the squint, and manage to make out the images through the foggy, sleepy-eyed me, I can see a figure. The figure is Potential Jackie. She's smiling. There's levity as evidenced by her very countenance. She's finished school. Her kids are happy. She's present in moments. I see her dancing, a full, white, long skirt flowing in the wind; her long hair wrapped around her shoulders and neck spinning with arms outstretched.

Over here, I'm standing. I'm Stuck Jackie. Split fifteen different ways. On the inside looking out. Passive. Heavy with emotional, spiritual and physical weight. Even sad but very, very aware of the goings-on and ruminations of my soul. I am sitting in black, indian-style, head bowed in prayer, sometimes even looking away.

There's my beloved body of water between Stuck Jackie and Potential Jackie. I love the water. As I always say, it frees me. The water frees me. But now, it's between the Me-s. I can swim it. I can boat it. I could float it. I could build a bridge.

Building a bridge requires a lot of activity, planning, hard work, struggle.

I think I'll start doing that.