The Last Dance: Don't Stop Dreaming

What would you do today if you knew that, very soon, one of your dreams was going to come true?

Would you make a phone call?

Start writing?

Book the trip?

Plant the garden?

Call an old friend?

Take the first step toward something you've been putting off for years?

Or would you simply smile and say, "Well, it's about time!"

There is something powerful about having a dream and showing up for it every day, even when nothing seems to be happening.

Dreams rarely arrive on schedule.

They don't knock on the door and announce, "Today's the day."

Most of the time, they arrive quietly.

One small step.

One conversation.

One page written.

One application submitted.

One phone call made.

One afternoon spent learning something new.

One more attempt after the previous one didn't work.

And then there is another way to pursue a dream.

You can show up for it every day while sauntering through life, winking at the unexpected, laughing at your mistakes and giving out plenty of hugs along the way.

That's when something interesting happens.

You begin to enjoy the journey rather than simply waiting for the destination.

I think that is an especially important lesson as we grow older.

We are often told that retirement is the final phase of life.

The language itself can make it sound like we're approaching the end of a journey and should settle down, put our feet up and wait for the credits to roll.

I'm not buying it.

I prefer to think of our later years as the last dance.

Not the last dance because life is necessarily about to end, but because we have reached the part of the dance where we know the music, understand the rhythm and have finally learned that we don't have to perform for anybody.

We can dance our own dance.

For many of us, our younger years were filled with obligations.

Get an education.

Get a job.

Raise a family.

Pay the mortgage.

Build a career.

Save for retirement.

There was always something next.

Then one day we retired, and somebody handed us the strange gift of something we hadn't had enough of for decades:

Time.

At first, that can feel wonderful.

Then it can feel a little frightening.

Because once the obligations disappear, we have to answer a question we may have been avoiding for years:

What do I want now?

That's where dreams come back into the picture.

Perhaps you still have one.

Maybe you've always wanted to write the book.

Travel somewhere you've never been.

Learn to paint.

Play music.

Build something.

Volunteer for a cause you care about.

Reconnect with an old friend.

Spend more time with your grandchildren.

Start a business.

Teach someone what you know.

Or perhaps your dream is much simpler.

Maybe you want to wake up tomorrow morning and have a reason to get out of bed.

There is no minimum age for dreaming.

And there is no expiration date on curiosity.

So, imagine, just for a moment, that you knew for certain that one of your dreams was going to come true.

What would you do today to prepare for it?

Do that.

How would you celebrate?

Start celebrating.

Who would you tell?

Write them a note.

You don't even have to mail it yet.

Why would you be grateful?

Say it out loud.

Who helped you along the way?

Thank them.

And who could you help achieve something they still dream about?

Help them now.

That last question may be the most important one.

Because as we get older, our dreams don't have to be entirely about ourselves.

We have accumulated something incredibly valuable: experience.

We have made mistakes.

We have recovered from disappointments.

We have learned things the hard way.

We have discovered what matters and, perhaps more importantly, what doesn't.

Why keep all that wisdom locked inside our heads?

Pass it along.

Help someone write their first book.

Encourage the person who is afraid to start over.

Teach a grandchild something you know.

Invite someone who is lonely for coffee.

Tell a younger person about a mistake you made and what you learned from it.

Give somebody permission to dream bigger.

That may be part of the magic of the last dance.

You aren't dancing alone.

You are carrying people with you.

And maybe that's why we shouldn't spend our later years simply looking backward.

The past deserves to be remembered, celebrated and sometimes even laughed about.

But the past isn't where tomorrow lives.

Tomorrow is still waiting.

There are still people you haven't met.

Places you haven't seen.

Books you haven't read.

Stories you haven't written.

Meals you haven't shared.

Hugs you haven't given.

And dreams you haven't chased.

So don't wait for everything to be perfect before you begin.

Show up.

Take the step.

Make the call.

Write the page.

Buy the ticket.

Plant the seed.

Ask the question.

Say yes.

And while you're doing it, saunter a little.

Wink at life.

Laugh when things don't go according to plan.

Give out hugs.

Celebrate the small victories.

Help someone else along the way.

Because perhaps the secret isn't getting every dream to come true.

Perhaps the secret is loving the process of becoming the person who is still capable of dreaming.

And when the music eventually slows, I hope we can look back and say:

"I didn't spend my final dance sitting on the sidelines.

I got out there.

I danced.

I dreamed.

I loved.

I helped.

And I enjoyed the music while it was playing."

So, what dream is still waiting for you?

Maybe it's time to show up for it.

The music is playing.

Let's dance.