At a memorial service, a couple of weeks ago, I bumped into an old friend from school. We talked about the trivial stuff of life and then we started talking about our new found selves. He has become his own man, a very generous one I found out that day, and while I was sharing about my now very common happenings in life, he was a bit stunned and needed a bit more proof to follow the conversation.
I told him about riding in the mountains of Guatemala with a Mountain Bike; uphill, downhill (although sometimes not intentionally) and a long line of bruises and falls that came along with it. I told him about running 5ks, 10ks, 15ks and half marathons and fulfilling my lifelong dream of running a marathon. He kept laughing and just saying “that cannot be so”. I shared how I am now a vegan, how I love to cook and how I don’t find my excited or cheap thrills in a liquor bottle. At the end of the conversation, he stared at me dumbfounded and said: “I need to see pictures of this”.
Proudly, I searched in my iphone’s history and found a picture of a black bruise that covered my entire leg (as a result of falling downhill, of course), a picture of me riding up hill looking all bad ass with my “let’s get it on” face, THE picture I bought from the Disney marathon I did last January and a whole collection of dishes I prepared myself that were posted on my Instagram account. At the end of this quick portfolio presentation, he sat back and said: “well, I’m certainly amazed… when I hung out with you, you hated to cook, could not play a sport to save your life and certainly did not enjoy staying home on a good friday night to write on a blog or Coach clients back to health”.
This blast from the past kept going on for a few good hours and, when a stranger (he knew her, but I didn’t) joined the conversation, he started describing this stranger that he had hung out with all his high school years. How this teenager used to drive him crazy with emotional drama (as we now have come to know it) and the usual stupidity that follows those first few drunken nights of an adolescent. I have to say, I’m glad it was just all a conversation and not the reality of my life today.
Back to today and the reference to the title; Anna Mary Robertson Moses was a woman like any other, she raised her family in a barn and when she reached her late seventies, she became an artist. She revealed her truer self through her works of art and is now famous for her “coming out” as an artist at such an advanced age in life. Her art has been sold for more than one million dollars in the United States and the “light hearted optimism” that emanated from her work of art certainly showed a side of her that her fans have come to admire. Even though her success became public late in life, I’m sure she was deemed as successful until then… I have to say, from what I’ve read, she was admirable and successful as any entrepeneur+self taught painter+mother of 5+wife+chef+worthy of an autobiography of today (which there are not many of today).
I never thought it would take me so long to find my passion: becoming a health coach being one of them. And, I honestly thought I’d be set with my entire plethora of goals by the time I was 25 and yet, here I am starting a wonderful chapter of my so called life at 29. The time that I sometimes feel I “lost”, was not lost at all. It gave me the boost I needed to move forward, to pedal on, to reach for another mile and to strike another keyboard in my laptop. All those things that make us human, the mistakes and personal anecdotes that have become part of our story does not dictate what we are today but rather how we became to be who we are. We can choose to remember what we lived through, but we are certainly allowed to live outside of that frame of story of what we once did or say. Let’s move forward with bigger goals; self loving attitude and broader definition of what happy is… IT’S NEVER TOO LATE.
With all the love and gratitude I can muster, xo