If I were able to live my life anew,
In the next I would try to commit more errors.
I would not try to be so perfect, I would relax more.
I would be more foolish than I’ve been,
In fact, I would take few things seriously.
I would be less hygienic.
I would run more risks,
take more vacations,
contemplate more sunsets,
climb more mountains, swim more rivers.
I would go to more places where I’ve never been,
I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans,
I would have more real problems and less imaginary ones.
I was one of those people that lived sensibly
and prolifically each minute of his life;
Of course I had moments of happiness.
If I could go back I would try
to have only good moments.
Because if you didn’t know, of that is life made:
only of moments; Don’t lose the now.
I was one of those that never
went anywhere without a thermometer,
a hot-water bottle,
an umbrella, and a parachute;
If I could live again, I would travel lighter.
If I could live again,
I would begin to walk barefoot from the beginning of spring
and I would continue barefoot until autumn ends.
I would take more cart rides,
contemplate more dawns,
and play with more children,
If I had another life ahead of me.
But already you see, I am 85,
and I know that I am dying.

Found on: http://www.alastairhumphreys.com/adventure-change-life/

Woah. What am I doing with my life? wasting it concerning myself over pointless irrelevancies….worrying about what people think…when in truth, there’s so, so much more to life than what there seems, than the surface… good god. change things. it’s in your power. dont mind me just talking to myself here. on a public message board.

I’ll see you your speil and raise you a poem:

What do you see, nurse, what do you see?What are you thinking when you’re looking at me?A crabby old woman, not very wise, Uncertain of habit, with far away eyes.

Who dribbles her food and makes no reply When you say in a loud voice, “I do wish you’d try?” Who seems not to notice the things that you do, And forever is losing a stocking or shoe.

Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will. With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill, Is that what you’re thinking? Is that what you see?Then open your eyes, nurse, you’re not looking at me.

I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still, As I use at your bidding, as I eat at your will. I’m a small child of ten with a father and mother, Brothers and sisters, who love one another.

A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet, Dreaming that soon now a lover she’ll meet. A bride soon at twenty, my heart gives a leap, Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.

At twenty-five now, I have young of my own, Who need me to guide, and a secure happy home. A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast, Bound to each other with ties that should last.

At forty my young sons have grown and are gone, But my man’s beside me to see I don’t mourn. At fifty once more babies play around my knee, Again we know children, my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead, I look at the future, I shudder with dread. For my young are all rearing young of their own, And I think of the years and the love that I’ve known.

I’m now an old woman and nature is cruel, ‘Tis just to make old age look like a fool. The body, it crumbles, grace and vigor depart, There is now a stone where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells, And now and again my battered heart swells. I remember the joys, I remember the pain, And I’m loving and living life over again.

I think of the years, all too few, gone too fast, And accept the stark fact that nothing can last. So open your eyes, nurses, open and see, Not a crabby old woman, look closer – see ME!!

Two posts in and I struggle with long sentences.

Legend, yours is rubbish.

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

Bunch of introspective self absorbed tosh.

I’m not sure about the line play with more children.

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

/snigger

He forget
“Wining the lottery”
“Having a rocket powered gold car”
“Magic powers”

Whereas the sentiment in the op is nice, DrP with his sensible hat on acknowledges that actually in life, we can’t just choose to do what we want, when we want, where we want, without consequence!

DrP

Trust you to bring the mood down with a clang! 😛

fleas

Adam,
Had’m

Trust you to bring the mood down with a clang!

Don’t know about you but I’m sitting here dreaming about which magic power I’m going to have. Flying would be pretty cool, but how about invisibility? Hmmm.

I’ve just had a holy shit moment realising I have wasted 5 minutes of my life reading this post.

Not a crabby old woman, look closer – see ME!!

The crabby old women I know were crabby when they were younger too (also applies to men etc..)

Likes though. Fiddles with nuts and giggles at eskay

Trust you to bring the mood down with a clang!

At your service 😉

DrP

Conversely, it being 0802 hrs, I’ve just had a great shit.

Rather than a crap one?

This thread wins “cynic-al’s copy and paste thread of the week” award.

Very much so bear

One day you’ll grow up and realise that your anarchic youthfull self who had the trainspotting monologue poster on their uni bedroom wall, is now over halfway through ticking everything on the list off.

Still, I’m off to race boats on the sea this weekend, working for a paycheck might not be idealistic, but it has it’s advantages!

I was one of those that never
went anywhere without a thermometer,
a hot-water bottle,
an umbrella, and a parachute

No wonder you wrote a poem, weirdo.

If you were 17, you’d have a crappy “blog”.

If you were 17, you’d have a crappy “blog”.

and about 300 tattoos and piercings…..

I’m with mos on this one. What a load of old bollocks. That kind of crap belongs exclusively in American corporate headquarters, with a picture of a ****ing sunset or a rainbow above it

Have a word with yourself!

Have I ever won it?

Junkyard it’s reserved for amateurs, you’re a pro.

I would have more real problems and less imaginary ones.

How can I take this seriously if they can’t even be bothered to use correct grammar?

You should take yourself fewer seriously, TBH..

DrP

What on earth does that mean?

Get money
Get paid

Dollar bill…
Dollar bill y’all

The creedo in my house is “less drama, more thinking”

But I’d like laser eyes please, if there’s superpowers being handed out…

Grammar aside, the basic message that life is short and you’d better get on with it isn’t bad. At 55 I’m acutely aware of how little time we have and also how unimportant are many of the things we worry about. Just get out and ride.

…I thought this was a post about someone who had actually managed to get tickets to the Foos tonight 🙁

I remember Luton,
as I eat this crouton.

Mmmm something to think about there for all of us.

You should take yourself fewer seriously, TBH..

DrP

POSTED 1 HOUR AGO #
Pook – Member
What on earth does that mean?

It was a joke…
He wanted the text above to say “fewer”, rather than “less”, so I played a (bad, IMO) grammar joke back…

Fail.

DrP

Me

Whee!

What do you see, nurse, what do you see? What are you thinking when you’re looking at me? A crabby old man, not very wise, Uncertain of habit, with far away eyes.

Who smuggles in burgers and grins in pleasure, When you say in a loud voice, “mind your blood pressure!” Who seems not to notice the things that you do, And hobbles about in jeans and skate shoes.

Who makes sexist jokes and pinches your bum. Who constantly asks to meet your mum. Is that what you’re thinking? Is that what you see? You’re probably right nurse, that sounds like me.

I’ll tell you who I am as I refuse to be still, As I ignore your concerns, as I eat at what I will. I’m a small child of ten with a toy Tonka truck, sword fighting with sticks, jumping in muck.

A young boy of sixteen, with a BMX bike, exploring the woods and goes where he likes. A student at twenty, collecting wisdom like pearls, if wisdom is drinking, drugs and girls.

At twenty-five now, some money’s been made, and gone again on a new fireblade. A man of thirty, a milestone day, spent on the slopes with a snowboard at play.

At forty the fireblade is sold, it’s lost. The money went on riding motocross. At fifty my body’s too old and too slow, so the crosser’s converted for riding enduro.

Dark days are upon me, my pension is small, the bikes are all gone and life has a pall. But the young are all riding BMXs again, so I buy one from a neighbour for a ton plus ten.

I’m now an old man and nature can shove it, riding is great and there’s ways to love it. My hip is broken but it warmed my heart, To be the only pensioner in the BMX park.

Inside this old carcass a young man still dwells, And now and again my battered heart swells. I remember the joys, I remember the pain, and I’m getting back onto that bike again.

I think of the years, all too few, gone too fast, And accept the stark fact that nothing can last. So I’ll rest only briefly, while you make me some tea, there’s some days yet to lived – and lived by me!!