“Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.” George Bernard Shaw
When I graduated from college (long before electronic files), I gathered favorite poems and stories I had written and organized them in a black, three-ring binder. This was a real treasure, I thought at the time, to be appreciated by the masses in years to come. I hid it in an old trunk along with my third place bowling trophy, photos of a pretty girl who dumped me for a real athlete and other prizes of my youth.
Time passed. I got jobs, played tag with my kids, then my grandkids, and experienced the pains and pleasures of aging.
Until a few weeks ago, I had forgotten all about the black binder and the sterling pieces of writing within. Then Sherry said I had to dump stuff from the attic. I opened the old trunk and there it was.
Off I snuck to find a quiet room, a soft chair and reading lamp to fully appreciate the genius of my youth.
Ouch! Who was that guy full of silly adjectives and adverbs? How many ways could he express his emotional wounds, his “unique” experiences and all of the people who did not recognize or appreciate his achievements?
To the dump went my black binder and bowling trophy. George Bernard Shaw had it right. The actions I take today best define who I am. I won’t find myself in an old black binder. Thank goodness.