You either start now, or it is not going to happen for you, and you are going to wake up at seventy years old (or eighty, if you are already seventy) filled with sorrow that you let your dream, your passion, gift, fall by the wayside. You start now, as is. ‘As is’ is the portal to creation, to new life.
Not that grief vanishes…but that it begins in time to coexist with pleasure; sorrow sits right beside the rediscovery of what is to be cherished in experience. Just when you think you’re done.
No, you cannot stop the birds of sorrow from flying over your head, but you can stop them from building nests in your hair.