I spent this weekend trying to come up with an arbitrary list of 40 life goals to achieve before I turn 40.
I wasn’t successful.
A list of goals is meaningless. There is no value. I won’t be the same person in a year, let alone six. Everything left unfulfilled by the time I turn 40 will feel like a failure, even if I decide to cut it from the list.
I keep coming back to a beautiful line from Passion of the Nerd’s Wild at Heart essay.
But life articulated falls somewhere on a spectrum between pull tab to open, and poetry.
I don’t want to spend my life marking items from my to-do list.
I want to live it.