I'm going to keep it simple today, on this first day of my 35th year of life.
I'm not normally a goal setter. Or rather I am, I just don't write them down, or say them out loud, or make resolutions or anything of that sort. But I have a lot of goals for this year. Many, many, many, many goals.
+Finish Autocad and be working for a design firm, or for myself as a designer by this time next year (check to the first part of that, just registered for fall semester today).
+Take a honeymoon to somewhere neither of us has been before (Italy, Morocco-I'm dreaming of you).
+Go back to Hawaii, just to lay on the beach and take walks in warm night breezes.
+Start reading lots of books again.
+Resume my long lost Ashtanga practice, not for my body but for my soul.
+Start cooking delicious, intentional food during the week. By myself. For my husband.
+Stress less about money.
+Stress less about everything.
+Whittle down my wardrobe to only completely chic and lovely things.
+Make a baby. If not have one, at least #pleasegodinheaven let me have one in my belly by this time next year.
+Move out of this city.
+Buy a house and renovate it.
+Start concepting a retail storefront to do my design work out of.
+Get another dog.
All of these things. I want them. Some of them I can control, some I certainly can not.
But as I sit here on the eve of the end of 34 I know that the only goal that I truly have my eyes on for 35 is to finally grasp life as a journey, and not as a destination. All of these moments that I push through to get to the next? I don't want to live like that anymore. I thought I would enter into 35 kicking and screaming. And part of me is, for sure. But the other part of me is gliding into it smiling. Because I love the life that I have made for myself.
All of it.