This actually belongs with the last post, but it was my own good fortune in running across this rare photo from my ballroom dance days! (I'd really wanted to locate this and post it with the bit about "you don't have to win competitions to enjoy dance/life.") Yes, this is from 1992, at a competition at Rice University in Houston, Texas. I'm doing the cha-cha with partner Lamar, who was an excellent partner and quite lithe on the dance floor. And this post is to share this and some other treasures I ran across while cleaning out my file cabinet this weekend.
And here is a photo from New Year's, just a few months ago. Not in flagrante dance-o, but coming off the dance floor after a waltz with a new partner from the dance school we were checking out that evening. I'm proud to say that even after many, many years off the amateur ballroom dance circuit, I not only held my own, but I had a fabulous time doing it!
But enough reminiscing. Oh, no, wait; not yet. As I was cleaning out the file cabinet and determined to reduce the four huge drawers into two and regain the use of some of my office closet space, I also discovered another file cabinet treasure: a letter I'd written myself 10 years ago upon the celebration of my 10-year high school reunion. This garnered quite a squeal of delight and a hurried call to my best friend from high school, now living in San Francisco.
See, my dear friend from high school, Brad Vanderbilt, and I had gone together to our last high school reunion, and we had a blast. My rule for attending reunions: as with much of life, they are SO MUCH FUN if you don't take yourself too seriously!
After the reunion, we both agreed to sit down and write ourselves letters with advice/hopes/directions for the next 10 years. I found his letter and mine tucked away with a picture of us, along with our friend Tammi, at the reunion. I'm pleased to say that it was positive and kind. No "you need to be a rocket scientist;" instead, I was more focused on personal joy and growth. No specific benchmarks or goals per se, but the joy that would come from achieving whatever it is that life guided me to strive for. A few tidbits from history:
Thank God we left the "me me me" of the 80's; I think that's why so many peole I know who have been working the "real" power jobs are givign it up and following their (usually less profitable) dreams--writing, starting a home business, going to school for years and years just o get a degree that will help promote world peace, developing their own software. Somewhere in there we're all getting the message that it's not worth the money if you hte your job and your work environment.
And a message I sent to myself:
The only concerns I have in this respect is that you not give up--please, Heidi, don't just sell out and do the easy thing. Try it all and don't take that secure job unless it really feels right. Remember--it's not about the money; it's about doing what you love.
And the final advice I give:
And please, Heidi, don't start becoming a fogey--try new things! Look at all you've taken up in the last 10 years: ballroom dance, belly dance, roller blading, Renaissance Fairs, cooking, a little sewing, a little carpentry, interior design, photography. When you open this letter in 2007, there had better be a few new hobbies added to that list!
Wow, how smart was I? And I'm proud to say that there are--blogging and podcasting, of course, which eat up substantial portions of my time, but since then I've also become a water aerobics instructor, started reading sci-fi, taken up yoga and become very active with community activities.
Now, you all know that I'm a big fan of goal-setting, but how about this for a softer type of goal-setting? Why not sit down today and write a letter to yourself in 10 years?
