Every time I tell people about my life, they tell me I’m courageous. Now I have to admit that I like the fact that people are impressed with what I’m doing. I mean it does set me apart from the run-of-the-mill, seventy-eight-year-old, overweight woman next door. But there is always a part of me that is whispering in my ear, Tell them how courageous it is to walk along a path in the middle of the rice fields of Bali, flirting with the farmers and waving at the dragonflies. Or to move into a village in New Zealand and join the Kiwis in their community activities and volunteer-teach in their schools. Or even to blow bubbles with a mother and son in the swampy jungle of Irian Jaya. It is in fact glorious, gentle, and not the least bit dangerous. It is most likely infinitely less courageous than dealing with many of the life situations that the run-of-the-mill woman next door is having to face.
I wrote the book to let people know that if they dare to dig up the buried person inside, to uncover the dreams and desires of the young man or woman they once were, they would probably realize that they can make some of those dreams happen.
I do not expect men and women to leave their families and run away to do my life. But I’m hoping that within the context of their own lives and their own dreams, they can awaken some of the spirit that lies trapped inside. Maybe it’s just to sing out loud and loudly. Or perhaps to sit through three movies in one day. Or to go deep sea fishing some weekend when everyone thinks you’re at a church retreat. How about going to a strange city and playing your saxophone on a street corner? Don’t forget to leave the open case with a few dollar bills in it just in front of you.