Unwritten @ 30

In one morbid moment, the topic came up -- what age do you want to die? There were a lot of numbers thrown in-- 40, 60, ah, er, now? Who wants to live forever anyway?

I used to think that 30 is it for me. If my life were to turn out the way I had planned at 20: five years ago, I would have been at the peak of my profession and living my dream job; at 27, I would have traveled the world already; at 28, I would have found “The One” and been married; and about six months ago, I would have died and gone to heaven.

I wanted to die young because I was vain. I wanted to die young because as a twenty-something, I was restless, impatient and frustrated about a world that's getting more dirty and harsh with each passing year. Every time I tuned in to world events, I found myself asking-- what's the point? And finally, I wanted to die young because I figured there's no place like heaven.

Now I'm 30 and I realize that I was missing a very big point. That life is a gift. If we fight it and hurry too much, we miss the taste of heaven here.

Looking back 30 years, I see that life doesn’t always turn out the way we plan it to be. After all, today I’m still single, a traveler not really of the world but of cyberspace instead and, just recently, rebuilding a career in an industry I did not mind while in college.

But then, if my life had turned out exactly the way I had planned, I wouldn’t be in the moment. I wouldn’t have known the beauty of having different dreams and living them through one job after another. Maybe I wouldn’t have experienced the pain and madness of loving the wrong men and discovered the strength of letting them go. Maybe I wouldn’t have learned that the tide always changes, that time heals all wounds, and that you get second chances.

And most importantly, I wouldn’t have known what a blessing it is to be able to close three decades of your life and begin again with a new perspective.

At 30, it feels good to be alive and know that the rest of life is – like Natasha Bedingfield’s song – yet “Unwritten”. To borrow her words, “I’m just beginning, the pen’s in my hand, ending unplanned.”

As I stare at the blank pages before me, I imagine a red carpet of new possibilities -- fresh dreams, greater loves, bigger adventures. New words, new faces to meet, new places to go, even new mistakes to learn from.

At 30, my heart is learning to beat again for the moment. At 30, I’m feeling the rain on my skin.

If you feel the same way, sing Natasha’s song with me. You may hear it and view the complete lyrics at ayin713.multiply.com.


-- SunStar Weekend, 1/10/09