Being afraid

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A few things I fear as I age:

Losing my youthful  vitality.  It’s getting harder and harder to stay up at night.

Losing touch with friends as we lead separate lives. Facebook is the greatest connector, thank God for that. But Facebook is also my window into the new worlds occupied by my friends. We live in parallel universes.  Perhaps I have changed.

Not being able to understand new technology. I have trouble with Instagram, let alone artificial intelligence or driverless cars. Despite the few years’ gap between my generation and the Instagram cohort,  iPhones and iPads have done wonders to the latter generation that I will not understand.   Perhaps we will reach that stage in human progress where machines will take over so the human brain no longer matters.

I have always loved words and count reading as my top priority in life.  As I age, I fear that I can no longer sit still and enjoy a good piece of long-form journalism. I get too impatient. And my attention span appears to be shrinking with each passing year.  I used to devour pieces in the Atlantic and New York Times, but these never-ending pieces now frustrate me.

What I fear the most? The gradual disappearance of my creativity.  As a child, I enjoyed creating stories, which is naturally an extension of my love for reading.  I found ideas in books and in everyday life.  I was an observer of the world around me.  But I was also intrigued by the genius of Francine Pascal and Ann Martin to bring their ideas first to books and then to television.  But as I grow older, I fear I am losing touch with the creative side of me.  Every one of us has a unique story to tell whether through writing or painting.  It is that magic potion known as creativity that will bring that story to life. That unique story, much more than your resume virtues, will be your lasting legacy, and how you will be viewed by history.

So never let your creativity die. Keep on creating.

 

Disappear

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