This past August I turned another year older. At my age some might consider it traumatic, some might even consider it a miracle. I certainly got enough teasing from my 32-year-old daughter to remind me that I’d advanced. All I can say is I hope I live long enough to see her turn this age because I’ll certainly have some choice worlds for her.
The thing is I got up on my birthday morning the way I do every morning. Fixed my hot tea, read my emails, went over what I’d written the day before. Then I wrote about as much as I do any given day, called the vet for an appointment for my dogs, went to the grocery store then stopped on my way home for my one favorite addiction – a Starbucks Black Shaken Lemonade Iced Tea. Yum. The only difference was it was free on my birthday. Meaning I’d reached another milestone. Big deal!
Except it really is a big deal. I’d made it through. Had four more new books on the market since my last birthday, had four lined up to go before my next birthday, and my editor was already talking about my next books. In this jumbled up world of publishing that was something to celebrate. Sure I may have also had a new wrinkle or two but somewhere out there I’m still vital. Maybe that’s the birthday message all writers need delivered to them rather than their free tea. We’re still vital.
I saw this word that I posted to my desktop – entelechy. In simple terms it’s the condition of a thing whose essence is fully realized or, in some philosophies, a vital force that directs us toward self-fulfillment. We all have that capacity for self-fulfillment in us somewhere and in my case it’s what makes me write. OK,so maybe when Aristotle coined that word he had something else in mind. But I really like believing I have a vital force that drives me toward self-fulfillment. It’s a comfort on a birthday. It’s also a comfort as I prepare to start my next books which will carry me closer to my next birthday. I only wonder if Starbucks will still let me have my black shaken lemonade iced tea lemonade then?