Happy birthday to me! What's next?

Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

- from "The Summer Day" by Mary Oliver

Here I am at level 63, having more-or-less successfully completed the first 62 years of my life. It seems impossible that I'm really that old, but there you are. The five years since I retired have disappeared in a heartbeat. 

As I launch into yet another trip around the sun, I find myself thinking a good deal about what I've done and haven't, the state of the world and my relationships, and what the future holds. As you can imagine, not all those thoughts are rosy ones. 

On the other hand, I've also been reminded of  just how many people love me - or, at least, like me enough to say "happy birthday" - so perhaps I'm not a total failure after all.

Just for fun, I completed a few of those online life expectancy calculators today to see how much time I might expect to have left - you know, if Mother Nature and/or capitalism don't kill me sooner. I learned that, given my lifestyle and health history, I can reasonably expect to be around another 25 to 30 years, which is sobering to say the least. 

Because, of course, if I'm going to live that long, I'd like most of those years to be reasonably good ones, preferably filled with joy and purpose. That's not as easy as it sounds - not when you're someone who struggles to maintain relationships (for reasons too complex to write about on my birthday) and cares too much about what's "right" and "just" to take the miserable state of the world in stride. 

In any case, here I am - launching into another year with a renewed (oh, let's be honest, "shaky" would be a more accurate description) commitment to trying harder (which applies to pretty much everything though I'm especially thinking about how I might help make the world a better place), being kinder to myself and others, and savouring joy wherever and whenever I find it. 

Oh - and I want to write more - here and elsewhere - since writing is one of the very few things that helps me make sense of my "one wild and precious life". 

There, I've started.