In My Next Life, I Want to Be Daisy

I’m super excited to have been invited to join a blog group alongside three talented bloggers.  Each week, one of us chooses a topic and we all post a blog entry on that topic, usually on Thursdays.   

Here are the links to the other fabulous blogs:

Merryland Girl

Froggie

Moma Rock

This week’s topic came from Froggie, who simply said:  YOLO (you only live once).

Here’s my take:

When I read Froggie’s topic, two lines immediately popped into my head.  The first is a line from Eminem’s song Lose Yourself: 

You better lose yourself in the music, the moment.

You own it.  You better never let it go.

You only get one shot – do not miss your chance to blow.

This opportunity comes once in a lifetime.

The other is a line from my very favorite book, The Great Gatsby.  It’s uttered by Tom’s lover, Myrtle, as she explains her thoughts upon meeting Tom:

“All I kept thinking, over and over, was ‘You can’t live forever; you can’t live forever.’”

Although most people don’t often compare the lyrics of Eminem with the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald, both men make the same point, albeit in a slightly different way.  That message, of course, is:  You only live once. 

Eminem encourages us to grab the brass ring with both hands, while Fitzgerald offers an excuse to grab whatever (or whomever) we want.  One is inspiration, the other a bit of an excuse.  Both men hint at the threat of regret if we miss the window of opportunity:  one over lost success; the other over lost love.  Both remind us:  you only get one go-around. 

I know not everyone believes we only live once.  Some of my friends embrace the belief in multiple lives or a continuous energy; even more believe in an afterlife.  As cool as I find both, I believe neither.  I do believe you only live once.  But I don’t always live my life as if that message is true.  I’m guilty of “surviving” as opposed to “living.”  I often worry too much and “do” too little.  I overthink.  I under try.  And then I stand in bemused wonder every February as my birthday again arrives, the number growing larger, the years flying faster.  There’s so much I haven’t yet done, so much I want to change.  And yet . . .

I really don’t know too many people who truly live their lives mindful that this life is their only shot.  Perhaps that’s because I don’t live my life that way and we tend to be drawn to kindred souls.  I know people who live in the past, and I know others who focus only on tomorrow.  I even know some who seem to have given up on this mortal existence and instead focus on the promise of an after life.  I can think of just a few people in my life who, at least on the surface, seem to take YOLO quite seriously.  The take big risks and they live big lives and they make every day matter – or so it seems to me, looking in from the outside.  I envy these friends.  I wish I were wired that way. 

I also know a few people who endorse Fitzgerald’s approach to YOLO, the take-what-you-want-while-you-can mindset meant to excuse seemingly selfish choices.  This one’s a bit easier for me to grasp.  I certainly have not fully embraced this mindset, though I can say I’ve used it in the past as an excuse to explain away some pretty poor choices.  To regularly take Fitzgerald’s road, though, is to dismiss the feelings of others, and that makes me uncomfortable.  Although I want to embrace YOLO, I simply don’t want to be that person.

I do think a lot about the idea of YOLO, and I have of late made a conscious effort to live more mindfully of the fact this is my only rodeo.  I’ve begun to write more and to share it with a wider audience.  I volunteer in a setting that requires a level of presence I’ve not often exercised in the past, and in return I’ve felt a satisfaction I haven’t experienced in a long, long time.  I’ve encouraged my kids – particularly my eldest daughter – to take chances and to live her life on her terms. 

But I cannot say I’ve fully embraced the YOLO philosophy. 

Assuming genetics or the Universe don’t have other plans, I’m hoping I still have many years to get it right.  Because if I don’t, well . . . FML.